7:00 P.M. TEHRAN
10:30 A.M. U.S. EST
PRESIDENTIAL PALACE
TEHRAN
Ali Suleiman was dining alone in his small apartment inside the Presidential Palace when he heard yelling from outside the door, followed by footsteps. Suleiman got to his feet as the footsteps grew louder. There were several people running down the corridor, and he recognized Marwan, his chief of security, yelling over and over in Persian:
“Open the door! Open the door!”
One of the armed soldiers posted outside the door opened the entrance to Suleiman’s apartment and Marwan sprinted inside, looking desperately for Suleiman.
“IRGCAF near Jiroft detected at least four inbound missiles, sir. These are American Tomahawks, coming from a ship in the Gulf of Oman,” said Marwan. “We must get to the underground bunker immediately, Your Excellency.”
“What about our air defenses?” said Suleiman, an angry look on his face. “Do we not have the ability to shoot them down?”
“These are not drones,” said Marwan. “The missiles have evaded three separate Sevom Khordad TELAR units including one south of Kavir Park. One of them is within minutes of Tehran, Imam. Please, sir.”
“And do you know it is coming for me?” said Sulieman as he extended his arm and allowed Marwan to lead him to the door.
“No, sir, we do not know that, but your protection is our most sacred priority,” said Marwan.
Marwan and several more soldiers surrounded Suleiman at the entrance and walked briskly down the high-ceilinged hallway as, suddenly, air-defense sirens pealed from outside the palace. At the end of the hallway they went right, where two men in dark suits, clutching submachine guns, held open the door to an elevator.
“Hurry, Your Excellency, please hurry,” beseeched one of the gunmen.
Suleiman had just stepped into the elevator when a spine-chilling whine broke through everything else. It cut through the sirens, the thick walls of the palace, the urgent cries from his protectors. It was a deep, loud sonic whiss—the telltale audible of an inbound missile—growing louder and closer with each passing moment.
One of the men inserted a key and pressed a button for a secure part of the palace several floors belowground. The elevator doors moved shut. As the elevator started to descend, the incoming missile could still be heard. Suddenly, there was a massive explosion, a thunderous vibration, so loud it sounded as if it had struck just feet away. The elevator went dark, rocking and bouncing from side to side as it continued to go lower. After a few moments, emergency lights came on and Suleiman looked around at the men with him. The faintest hint of a smile came to Suleiman’s face and he found Marwan.
“You saved my life, Marwan,” said Suleiman humbly. “You all did. How can I ever thank you enough—”
But Suleiman’s words were abruptly cut off by the sharp twang of the elevator cable snapping. They all heard it in the same moment, then they could feel it. It was the horrible feeling of falling, the feeling of dropping with no brake or parachute to stop. Several of the men, including Suleiman, screamed as the elevator cab dropped ten stories in an uncontrolled race to the ground, smashing into a concrete pad. Every occupant of the elevator was crushed in a pulp of clothing, weapons, body parts, and bones.