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
With the unstoppable sequence activated, Hamedi had easily slipped his personal security detail and headed for the elevator. On reaching ground level he saw that his air-raid scheme had been a stroke of genius—every guard and soldier above the subterranean complex was looking nervously skyward from their guard shacks and gun emplacements. No one gave a second glance to the beaten old Fiat that puttered out the gate.
Hamedi was ten miles east now. He referenced the GPS receiver in his hand, and turned off the gravel road onto what he hoped was the correct dirt path. Five miles up the rutted track he saw what he was looking for—a dust-clad Toyota Land Cruiser nestled amid an outcropping of eroded boulders. The truck blended well, tan-colored and eroded in its own way with bent fenders and a baked-on casing of dust and grime. Twin petrol cans were lashed to the rear, and strapped on the roof rack was a sturdy spare tire. Hamedi hit the brakes hard, and the Fiat skidded and disappeared in a light brown cloud. He threw open the door and began to run, but then slid to a stop in the loose dirt. He had almost forgotten his jacket, which held the critical flash drives—Iran’s entire nuclear program condensed to fit in the breast pocket of a tweed blazer.
Returning for his coat, Hamedi heard a honk and looked over his shoulder at the Toyota’s driver. The man was pointing to a place in the field of stone, and Hamedi looked closer and saw a beige camouflage tarp strung between two large boulders. It blended in so well he’d not even seen it on his approach. Underneath the tarp was a space. A space big enough for …
Hamedi waved, and soon had the Fiat maneuvered into the camouflaged cavern. He bustled out, this time with his jacket in hand, and for the second time paused. Unsure what to do with the Fiat’s keys, he began to put them in his pocket, but then reconsidered and tossed them into the dirt next to the Fiat with the loose idea that Hassan might somehow be able to reclaim his car. Busy as he was, Hamedi did not notice the Toyota’s driver shaking his head.