Then had come the most serious setback: three nights ago their most lethal marksman had broken an ankle while scouting a washed-out road. The only option was to have the field medic drive him a hundred miles back to the Turkmen border using their only vehicle. That had put the squad down two men, a one-third reduction in firepower. The rest of them could shoot well enough—and they would—but their meticulously rehearsed plan would require significant adjustments. The loss had also placed an unacceptable equipment load on the remaining four. Thus the stolen donkey. Now, five days and four hundred miles since injecting themselves into Iran, the men were tired. They had moved on foot the last three nights, fourteen-hour treks separated by daytime rest periods in the concealment of sandstone formations. Still, all hardship aside, they were on the verge of success.

The air was still and sweet, the desert almost agreeable with the sun no longer pounding overhead. Stein rendezvoused with his team. The two men from the flanks were waiting, the point man the last to arrive. All wore dark robes and sandals. Their beards, cultivated for months, were long and unkempt in the most pious Muslim tradition. As a group, the four infiltrators blended in as well as four men could in this part of the world. They arranged themselves in a circle, and Stein tried to meet their eyes one by one. He had no success as the others’ gazes shifted constantly. Watching and alert.

“What now?” Dani, the second in command asked, not taking his eyes off the horizon.

Stein referenced the luminous green screen on his GPS receiver. “We still have five kilometers to go. There’s no way we can haul all the equipment ourselves and be in place before dawn.”

Standing under a faultless night sky, Stein gauged the terrain ahead. Fifty yards remained to the top of the rise, and after that the choppy topography would give way to a dry lake bed as hard and flat as a billiards table. From that point there would be little cover.

“Come on,” Stein said, slapping Dani in the middle of his armored vest. “Maybe we can see it.”

Stein led Dani ahead. Without being told, the other soldiers stayed with the gear. The hill of sand that had defeated their donkey was the highest ground in any direction, and nearing the crest the two commandos crouched low to keep their profiles masked. They took turns with the night vision glasses, studying a dim island of light that seemed to float on the far horizon.

“There it is,” said Stein. “Lit up like a damned amusement park.”

He handed over the optics, and after a look Dani said, “It looks like they’re having a party. We planned on eight bodyguards, Yaniv. If there is a special event tonight, with dignitaries, we could be facing four times that number.”