Chapters (66)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Also by Ward Larsen
- About the Author
Slaton remembered Director Nurin’s plan. It will tell you where and when to strike … a tactical opening that is ideal for a man with your gift. Use it. The director had set him up to die, and in doing so had put Christine at risk. Slaton had to understand completely. “How did it work? Was Nurin feeding the Iranians intelligence? Was he actively sabotaging his own strike teams?”
“Yes,” Hamedi said. “Behrouz told me he had an agent who gave accurate warnings—where and when the attacks against me would come. This agent was clearly planted by Nurin.”
“So good men were sent to the slaughter, sacrificed.”
Hamedi, his face riddled with angst, said, “Yes. This part filled me with sorrow, but clearly the director thought it necessary. I tried to consider things from his point of view. A military attack on Iran’s nuclear facilities would put at risk hundreds, even thousands of Israeli soldiers. Would that not be worse? Israel is desperate to stop Iran, and my importance to the program has been widely accepted. Clearly Nurin felt that if he did not make attempts against me it would only fuel Behrouz’s suspicions. He had to make it look as if Israel was trying to eliminate me.”
Fifty yards away Slaton saw two policemen scouring the base of the jetty, their flashlight beams scanning the water for survivors. In a matter of minutes they would reach the breakwater.
“But now,” said Sanderson, “Behrouz is gone?”
“Yes,” Hamedi confirmed. “Our friend here was quite innovative, but there is no doubt—he is dead.”
“And no one else in Iran shares his suspicions about your background?”
“I don’t think so,” Hamedi said. “Behrouz always retained a card-player’s mentality—something like this he would have kept to himself until he was certain. Others helped in his search, of course, but they were only low-level people with no understanding of his larger suspicions.”
“So,” Slaton reasoned, “if you were to turn up as a survivor tonight—you could still go back to Iran and carry through your plan?”
Hamedi thought about it. “Yes. With Behrouz eliminated, I’m sure there will be a fight for his position—one that will last weeks, if not months. For the time being all security will be focused on one thing—the imminent test. I am more secure now than I was an hour ago, and all I require is four more days. Allow me that, and I can give Israel her greatest victory since the Six-Day War.”
Sanderson drew a heavy sigh. “I’m not a political man by nature, but clearly the world could use a little more time with Iran. I could turn Dr. Hamedi in, say that I found him in the water. He’d be back in Iran tomorrow. And I have to confess this would also get me out of a rather deep professional hole I’ve dug for myself.”