Sardar smiled. The Nomads weren’t as stupid as they appeared.
—Panguitch, Utah.
The bubbles appeared again, then:
—What the fuck has taken you so long? I’m sitting on a load that’ll put me away for a long, long time. You owe me money.
—I know. I’m here in the States now, and I have the payment. Are you in DC?
—No. Virginia. About an hour and a half outside the city. I can’t park this truck in DC dumbass.
Sardar bristled at the insult, thinking he was going to enjoy giving them payment in the way of a bullet. He typed,
—Understood. We need to meet first in DC. I’ll confirm drop-off and give you further instructions.
—Give me the drop-off location now. I’m sick of waiting.
He couldn’t do that, because he needed their help for the next step, whether they wanted to do it or not. He couldn’t accomplish the mission on his own. He needed their expertise with the truck.
—No. We meet and discuss. There is an additional step.
Bubbles, then,
—What the fuck does that mean? We give you the truck, and you give us the money. Don’t fuck me on this or I’ll turn in that guy I got across the border.
—Meet. Then discuss.
He waited, seeing nothing. He was sure they were discussing it among themselves. Finally, bubbles appeared, revealing success:
—When and where?
And he gave them the detailed instructions for the meeting location, one he’d surveyed ahead of time for a different mission years ago. He’d never used it then, the mission not coming to fruition, but it facilitated bothprotection and anonymity and he was glad it was still around, because this operation was much more important.
It was the culmination of all his training and skill. It was his coup de grâce, a grand attack that would be sung about years from now, his heroic deeds cemented in the annals of the IRGC.
He closed the chat and looked at his watch. He did the math, and realized he still had about thirty minutes before his command was available in Iran. He shut the computer down, dug around in his backpack and found a screwdriver. He exited the room, walking down the concrete balcony to the back stairs away from the interstate.
He skulked past the back of the motel, the lot illuminated by a vapor lamp at each end, but dark in the middle. He reached a battered pickup truck with an Arkansas plate, the numbers hidden by a hitch attached to a small trailer.Perfect. Won’t be easily missed.
He glanced around, seeing no movement. He had trees behind him and shadow from the back of the motel, with just enough light from the streetlamp a hundred feet away to help him. He bent down and quickly went to work. In a matter of minutes he had the back license off the truck. He went to the front and saw there was no additional plate.Even better.
He quickly circled the lot to his rental car, parked near the woods and out of the light. He repeated the process, replacing his Arizona plate with the new one from Arkansas. He threw the Arizona plate over the chain-link fence into the darkness of the woods and returned to his room, confident he had done what he could to camouflage his vehicle.
He rebooted his computer, opened Signal, and checked his watch. He waited until it was 0730 in Tehran and initiated a chat with the contact called Father.
—Update on Zarbeh-e Sayeh. Everything is in motion on my end. Some small issues, but nothing that will stop success. God willing, both the Great Satan and the Little Satan will feel our wrath in two days.
He waited, feeling the tension build as he always did when talking with his superiors—even if these men hadn’t been in their positions as long as he had been in his. They were the chosen ones, selected for the judgment after their predecessors had been wiped out by Israeli airstrikes and drone attacks.
He grew concerned when the clock ticked past forty after. He hadn’t been focused on the news, and feared maybe he’d missed another assassination campaign by Mossad.Maybe they were dead.
Finally, the bubbles appeared and he exhaled.
—Good to hear from you. We were growing concerned. What issues?
—Nothing to worry about. It is contained. How does the other operation fare?
—Do we still have deniability? Have you been compromised?
