“Good to go. Thanks Carrie.” A little jab to let her know I could give it as well as take it. Unfortunately, unlike Jennifer, she seemed to enjoy hercallsign. She answered, “Any time, any time,” and I could almost see the smile.
I hung up and Jennifer turned to me, saying, “Three hotel rooms, all on the same floor, all rented by the same man, a guy from Qatar.”
I relayed the information to my team in the hotel, thinking,This is almost too easy.
Chapter 33
After twenty minutes winding through the cloistered streets of Foz do Iguaçu, the Ghost thought he saw a minaret in the distance. A minute later, and he was surprised when the SUV pulled abreast of a large mosque.
He said, “A mosque with a minaret here, in Brazil?”
Sardar said, “You look surprised. You don’t think there are Muslims here?”
“I knew there’d be Muslims, but I would have thought they’d be forced to pray in garages in this Christian country.”
“The country may be Christian, but this city is Muslim. There are more Lebanese Muslims here than in any country besides Lebanon. In fact, if you counted descendants who have never lived in the Middle East, there are more Lebanese in Brazil than in Lebanon itself.”
Cyrus drove past a line of people outside a modern building, a fence stretching from it and surrounding the mosque. He continued to a gate farther down.
Sardar said, “Trust me, Hezbollah is strong here.”
The Ghost flicked his head to the crowd down the road and said, “I can see that. People are gathering and it’s not even prayer time.”
Sardar opened the door with a chuckle, saying, “Those are tourists. The Foz mosque makes money with them paying to dress up in an abaya and hijab.”
They followed Sardar out of the vehicle, waiting expectantly by the gate.Sardar walked to the driver’s seat, shaking Cyrus’s hand and saying, “Inshallah, the next time we meet, it will be under a new world.”
Cyrus nodded, backed the vehicle up, and in seconds was gone, lost in the traffic. The Ghost heard footsteps and turned back to the gate of the mosque, watching the man he knew as Khalil approach. He used a key card on a pad next to the gate and it buzzed. Sardar pushed it open.
Khalil looked at the Ghost, and he realized the introductions were up to him. He said, “Khalil, this is Sardar, Omar, and Ramzi. Representatives of the Pasdaran.”
Khalil shook their hands, saying, “As-salamu alaykum,” then simply, “Follow me. We have a room in the back.”
They walked down a narrow path, circling the dome of the mosque, until they reached a storage shed. Khalil led them inside, and the Ghost saw Fatima, the man who’d paddled the raft, and one other he didn’t recognize.
Khalil said, “This is Fatima, Adnan, and Yassir,” each person raising a hand as their name was called. With that completed, he said, “Adnan will pilot the boat you requested back across the river to Argentina. He knows the smuggling routes. The others have been trained in the Bekaa Valley. None are amateurs. We expect the same level of training from you and your team, so tell us who you’ve brought.”
Sardar said, “You’ve met Ash’abah,and his reputation speaks for itself. The others are Ramzi and Omar, and they are both Pasdaran like myself. I have no amateurs either, and I’ve spent a great deal of time setting up this mission. An epic one.”
Khalil nodded and said, “We agreed to meet, and know the target, but we haven’t yet decided if we will participate. What are you proposing?”
“We’re going to strike a blow at the heart of the Zionist regime. We will repay them for martyring the cleric Hassan Nasrallah and the great general Qasam Soleimani by committing a similar attack. We are a patient people, but they will finally reap what they have sowed. You in Hezbollah have felt their sting, as we in the Pasdaran have, and now it is our turn.”
The Ghost could see the words having their intended effect. Sardar wasa good orator, and the Hezbollah members were rapt at his words. As for him, he felt some cognitive dissonance. Nowhere was the tragedy of Gaza mentioned. Nothing was said about the abuses in the West Bank, or the dismal conditions in the refugee camps outside of his historical homeland. He cared not a whit about Nasrallah or Soleimani.What about the Palestinians?
Sardar continued, saying, “Last night, I learned that the Great Satan’s secretary of state will be with the Zionist son of a pig when we attack. We will slash them both with a single strike of our sword. That is what I propose.”
The men murmured in assent, and the Ghost finally spoke, saying, “What of the people? We do this for them, yes? For Gaza? For Ramallah and Jenin?”
Taken aback, Sardar said, “Of course, of course. The blow is for them as well. In fact, ultimately, the people of Jenin and Ramallah will be the means of destruction of the Zionist state. They will be the ultimate martyrs who seal final victory.”
The Ghost saw Omar and Ramzi snap their heads towards Sardar at the words, and he said, “What does that mean? ‘Ultimate martyrs’?”
Sardar’s expression indicated that he’d let slip something he hadn’t intended. Khalil noticed too. “I am interested as well.” He let out a tiny sliver of sarcasm, saying, “What else is the wily Pasdaran up to?”
Sardar said, “Other Pasdaran operations are not for this venue. Just trust that we are everywhere, striking the Zionists at every opportunity.”
Khalil looked like he wanted to press, but did not, instead saying, “Then tell us how you intend to strike here. We can discuss elsewhere after our success.”
