As the analyst slipped off his headphones, electronica music thumped at a volume far above any manufacturer’s recommended levels.

“Yalla. Let’s go. Yossi has something.”

“Sure, Ha’mefaked.” Lahav bounced to his feet.

“Quit calling me sir,” Nir said as he moved to Yossi’s workstation. “Ma nishma?”

The analyst turned toward them. “Okay, I’ll try to explain this in a way all of us can understand.” Nir noticed he was looking right at him as he said it. “Over the last year and a half, I’ve developed algorithms to learn and analyze repetitive words and phrases that exist in the enormous amount of chatter we pick up.”

“Yossi make computer smart-smart, listen to talkies out in sky,” said Dafna, putting her hand up to her ear.

“Okay, enough.” Nir resented the fist bump she got from Liora.

“I then divided those words and phrases into topics that seemed to be of particular interest to the bad guys. I’ve picked up subjects like convoy size, shipping methods, transport modes, plumbing repairs. But one topic they really like to talk about is bombs. Blast radius, to be more precise. It’s like a competition. My blast is bigger than yours.”

“Absolutely no comments from any of you,” Nir said.

“Typically, the numbers are within a certain range. I’ve seen anywhere from 50 to 300 meters.”

“Sounds about right.” Nir pictured that distance expanding all around from the epicenter. “Maybe even a little more with a large truck bomb.”

“Exactly. Then suddenly, I see this.” He pointed to the screen, where he had a number highlighted in red.

“Eight hundred meters?” Nir said. “Holy crap! Are you sure that’s right—not just a typo?”

“Wish it was, achi. It’s appeared three times in the chatter, and once it was bumped all the way up to 950.”

“Eight hundred meters. That’s…what? A full mile diameter? Can you think of any conventional explosive that can do that?”

“That’s what I’ve been looking for. But a semi full of fertilizer couldn’t even do that. I hate to say it, but it’s got to be nuclear.”

Nir shook his head. “And this is militia traffic you’re talking about. You’re saying Iran’s proxy militias have deliverable nukes, like a suitcase nuke.”

Yossi shook his own head vigorously. “No! Mamash lo! I only said it’s coming up in the chatter. Again, I’m trying to piece things together, like doing a jigsaw puzzle without the box photo for reference. Best I can come up with is that training is taking place for how to handle these kinds of bombs. Like they don’t have them, but they’re expecting them, and they want to be full-on ready when they do get them.”

“Give me a location, Yossi. Where are these guys?”

“I don’t know for sure, but best I can tell is there are three different sites—and they’re all involved.”