The man said, “Good luck with that,” and waved them through.
The next stop was a magnetometer, forcing them to empty their pockets, followed by another stop with a security wand doing the same thing. Finally, they were let into the grounds proper, passing through a last set of double doors.
The Ghost watched the doors close and exhaled. He felt like he had been underwater, the panic of drowning blotting out rational thought, and he’d just made it to the surface.
Now he just had to swim to shore.
He wiped the sweat from the back of his neck and looked at Ramzi, who was clearly feeling the same way.
With a tight smile, Ramzi whispered, “The Pasdaran never fail.”
The Ghost grinned back with little mirth, saying, “Is that why you’re sweating like you’ve just left a sauna? Come on. Let’s go get the equipment.”
They were in a courtyard hidden from the street, with gardens on the left and right and the multistoried AMIA building behind it. At the base of the building was a stage with a podium, three chairs on both the left and right. In front of the stage were rows upon rows of folding chairs for the audience. At the rear, where they were standing, were three groups of news crews setting up their tripods and cameras.
The Ghost ignored them, not wanting to get in any conversations involving videography equipment, news coverage, TV stations, or anything else that might destroy their cover, dragging Ramzi to the north entrance. He saw their two Pelican cases and the duffel bag sitting outside a set of double doors, a man standing next to them.
He said, “This is ours. Can we go set up?”
The man simply nodded, not saying a word.
The Ghost slung the duffel over his shoulder and picked up one Pelican case, telling Ramzi to get the other. He studied the layout of the courtyard, finding it didn’t matter where he set up, the distance and view of the target at the podium would be the same, with clear fields of fire.
He said, “Follow me,” and returned to the double doors of the personnel entrance. He set the Pelican case on the ground as a marker, blocking out territory that would make him the left-most camera crew and the closest to the exit.
He pulled a tripod out of the duffel bag and began setting it up. Ramzi opened the Pelican case and pulled out the camera, whispering, “How will you load it here?”
The Ghost set the camera on the tripod, tightened the screw holding it in place, and whispered back, “It’s already loaded. Just not cocked.”
He looked through the viewfinder, focusing on the podium in the center. He pulled his eye away and said, “Okay. So far, so good. Now you go give your speech. Take the wireless microphone and pretend like you’re setting up a segment. Get as close to the podium as you can.”
Ramzi reached back into the Pelican case, withdrew a wireless handheld microphone. He started to walk away and the Ghost said, “Be sure it’s in Arabic and not Farsi.”
Ramzi scowled and said, “Of course. I’m not an idiot.”
The Ghost said, “It had better be coherent, because I promise some of these Israeli security speak Arabic.”
Ramzi said, “It is, it is,” and walked down the aisle in the middle of the chairs. He reached the stage, turned around, and said, “Can you hear me?”
The Ghost said, “Give me a countdown.”
Ramzi spoke into the microphone, the numbers mostly lost to the Ghost by the distance. When he was done, the Ghost raised his thumb, saying, “Good to go. Ready when you are.”
Ramzi proceeded to speak for thirty seconds, waving his arms and pointing at the building—clearly having rehearsed what he was going to say, and giving the Ghost confidence in his professionalism.
The Ghost used the time to practice with the viewfinder, using Ramzi’s height to judge how far away the podium was and adjusting the reticle to compensate for the drop the bolt would make.
Ramzi finished and came back, saying, “Did you get it?”
“All set. I’m dead on.”
Ramzi smiled and said, “So we’re ready?”
“Not quite. Put on your vest.”
Ramzi remembered what that meant and went rigid for a second. The Ghost said, “Are you okay?”
Ramzi nodded and opened the second case, withdrawing two separate equipment carriers with what looked like spare batteries in pockets looped around them. Shaped more like a medical back support than an actual vest, they had suspenders instead of arm holes, with elastic and Velcro to cinch onto the waist.
