9:37 A.M.
LOBBY
UNITED NATIONS SECRETARIAT BUILDING
FIRST AVENUE AND FORTY-SECOND STREET
NEW YORK CITY
Gunfire continued, though now it was the Iranians who controlled the lobby of the UN building.
Mansour whistled, holding up two fingers. His men stopped firing, though bullets continued to rain in from outside.
Blood and bodies were scattered everywhere in the light-filled vestibule. An eruption of violence.
Mansour counted out men and saw that he had nine soldiers still alive. He spoke in Persian.
The lobby is ours. Four men at the windows, now! Now is when we build strategic advantage!
Mansour nodded at one of the men, a tall bald man named Sayyari. They crossed the lobby, stepping over dead men.
Gunfire continued as the four soldiers pumped slugs back out at American law enforcement disaggregated across the open area between the lobby and First Avenue.
His four men—using the building itself as protection—were holding back an army of NYPD and FBI SWAT.
Despite the bullets now pilfering in from First Avenue, Mansour walked with Sayyari to the front line of men. He got close enough so that he could give them one final command.
He again spoke in Persian.
“You four stay here, in the lobby,” said Mansour. “Brothers, we need just a little more time. Hold them off.” He looked at Sayyari and two other men. “You lead. Come in from above. If they’re still working, take the elevators to twenty. Guard the nearest stairwell and the elevator banks on twenty and nineteen. You,” said Mansour, pointing at Sayyari, “if you get there before us, kill him.”
Mansour pointed at the remaining two gunmen and said, “You’re with me.” He started walking to the stairs, then turned.
“Shoot everything you see,” said Mansour. “Take no prisoners.”