The Temple Mount Code (35 page)

‘Do you know how I know you were a Mossad agent?’

She didn’t rise to the bait.

‘Because I know your father was a Mossad agent. He told me so in the final minutes before I killed him.’

A scream erupted from Miriam and carried with it a strength she didn’t know she possessed. Hauling herself up on the chains, she lashed out with a foot, delivering a kick to Davari’s face.

The colonel staggered back, blood trickling from his split lip. Then he clenched a fist and lunged forward, driving it into her face, finally delivering the blessed unconsciousness she was seeking.

Imam Khomeini Metro Station

Imam Khomeini Square

Tehran, the Islamic Republic of Iran

August 13

Lourds got off the rapid-transit metro with the rush of morning workers. He was frazzled and worn, sick with worry, and still didn’t have a concrete plan for finding Miriam Abata, getting Namati’s al-Buraq, or getting out of Tehran. At the moment, all of those tasks seemed impossible.

The Imam Khomeini Metro Station was located at the junction of Line 1 and Line 2. He skipped the elevator because it was filled with Muslim women who wouldn’t allow a man to ride with them. He’d almost made the mistake of trying to enter the last car on the train earlier. The first and last cars of every train were set aside for women who didn’t want to ride with men.

He took the stairs up the sixty feet to the surface and stepped out into the station’s main area. With all the
burqas
and
hajibs
swirling around him, Lourds felt alienated, an obvious outsider in a foreign – and definitely hostile – land.

Hitching his backpack over his shoulder, Lourds crossed the polished floor laid out in a pattern of brown tiles in the midst of white toward the entrance, bypassing the phone banks and cash machines. Even the beautiful Persian artwork on permanent display couldn’t distract him.

He’d spent the night away from the hotel, hanging in cybercafés that didn’t deserve the name because they had limited access to the world. He’d searched for any news of Miriam, but there was none. Nor was there any mention of an Israeli grad student disappearing from the Ferdowsi Grand Hotel.

While thinking desperately, Lourds had considered calling the Tehran police, but they were essentially the Revolutionary Guard, the same people who had ‘disappeared’ Miriam. The United States didn’t have an embassy in Tehran. Neither did Israel. The Canadians maintained ambassadorial relations, but Lourds knew they wouldn’t want to get involved in his current predicament.

He was on his own, and he was hardly an army of one.

Outside, Lourds took a deep breath and gazed out over the square. In the past, the neighborhood had been called the Shah Square. For a time it had been known as Toopkhaneh Square, literally translating into cannon house. Dar al-Funun, Iran’s first modern college, had found a home there during the nineteenth century, and it had been a place where regal state ceremonies had been conducted.

Those glory days were basically over. Protestors often gathered there to rebuke the Ayatollah and suffer the harsh wrath of the Revolutionary Guard and the
Basij
militiamen. Those brave Iranians standing up for self-government had paid for their courage with blood. Protestors had been maimed, terribly injured, or died there.

The telecommunications building on the south side of the square didn’t even pretend to mimic Muslim influence. It was serviceable and massive, a gray wall that shadowed the square. On the other three sides of the square, small shops and boardinghouses fought for space where the poorer families in Tehran lived.

Lourds felt the heavy despair that filled the neighborhood. He also drew several curious stares from passersby.

In the end, he knew what he had to do. Just as with Miriam, he had to trust someone, and there were precious few in Tehran to trust. But something had to be done. He took his satphone from his pocket and called Reza.

‘Miss Abata was taken from the hotel?’

Across the small café table from Reza, Lourds tried to maintain his calm. ‘Yes.’

‘By whom?’

‘I have to assume it was the Revolutionary Guard.’

For a moment, Reza looked panicked. The reaction made Lourds feel a little better. Anyone who felt threatened by the mere mention of the Ayatollah’s bullies had to be close to being on his side.

‘I shouldn’t be here.’ Reza started to rise from his chair.

Lourds leaned forward and put a restraining hand on the young man’s forearm. ‘Reza. Please. If something isn’t done, I’m certain those people are going to kill Miriam. I need help.’

Reza stood a moment longer, halfway between rising and sitting. Finally, he blew out a breath and sat back down. ‘What have you done that would call the Revolutionary Guard down on you?’

‘Have you heard of Lev Strauss?’

‘Of course. I’ve read many of his proposed peace agreements regarding the Middle East.’

‘You know about his death?’

‘Yes.’

‘I have reason to believe he was killed by the Ayatollah’s death squads because of something he was working on. Now I’m working on it.’

‘This is what you were talking to Professor Namati about yesterday?’

‘Yes. I excluded you because I know that many of the students are spies for the Revolutionary Guards.’

‘And if I am such a spy?’

Lourds shook his head. ‘Then I’m caught, and there’s nothing I can do.’

Reza regarded him in stony silence. ‘Trusting you with my secrets is equally dangerous, Professor Lourds.’

A tremendous weight seemed to drop off Lourds’s shoulders, and he felt like he was in free fall.

‘If you want passage out of Iran, I can take you through the Kurd lands. The way will be harsh, but staying here may well mean your death.’

‘I don’t want passage out of Iran yet.’

‘Then you’re a fool.’

‘I can’t leave Miriam behind if there’s any chance to save her. I got her into this mess, and I need to get her out.’

Reza grinned mirthlessly. ‘You can’t even get yourself out of the city.’

‘I don’t know that yet. What I do know is that I don’t have a prayer of finding Miriam if I’m constantly having to stay out of sight.’

‘I understand. Professor Lourds, there are many of us in Iran who love democracy, but we haven’t yet had the chance to embrace it. We yearn for it. We die for it.’ His face crumpled a little, and his voice turned hoarse. ‘Less than a month ago, my girlfriend Liora was killed by the
Basij
during a peaceful demonstration. She was an innocent, barely eighteen years old.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

‘As am I.’ Reza’s eyes gleamed wetly. ‘Liora’s death wasn’t for nothing. I won’t let it be for nothing. More and more of us, not just the students, but adults as well, who were once afraid to show their distrust and dislike of the Ayatollah, are standing together. We know we must act against the tyranny of the theocracy in Iran, but at the same time we cannot forget the importance of being good Muslims and being faithful to God.’

‘I understand.’

‘After all these deaths, there are some in the Revolutionary Guard who are beginning to disagree with the Ayatollah. They do so secretly, but we are able to work through them. We can get more information these days. They know change is coming for our people, and they want to be on the right side of history.’ Reza leaned back. ‘If it is not too late, we will help you find Miss Abata. Then we will see about getting you out of Iran.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Just promise me one thing.’

‘If I can.’

‘Whatever it is you are working on, if it will help undermine the Ayatollah’s regime, get it done.’

Thinking of Lev’s murder and now Miriam’s abduction, Lourds nodded grimly. ‘You’ve got my word on that.’

44

Professor Namati’s Residence

Qeytariyeh District

Tehran, the Islamic Republic of Iran

August 13, 2011

One of Reza’s student friends drove Lourds to Professor Namati’s home. It was Saturday, and the professor should have been there. Lourds didn’t get Namati’s home phone number. The house was a modest single-story with a nice garden out front.

Lourds walked up to the front door, took off his hat, and knocked politely.

A young woman answered the door and looked frightened. She was an older version of the young girl Namati had pictures of in the
dhow.
Her red eyes gave away the fact that she’d been crying.

‘May I help you?’ The young woman stood her ground behind the door.

‘I hope I’m not coming at a bad time.’ Lourds felt uncomfortable, but he wasn’t leaving without speaking to Namati.

‘My father isn’t here.’ Her voice broke.

‘I’m Thomas Lourds.’

‘I know who you are, Professor Lourds.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘You are part of the reason they took my father.’

‘Who took your father?’

‘The Revolutionary Guard. They came this morning and took him away. They said it was just for routine questioning, but my father knew it was a lie. He did not want to go with them. They told him they would kill me if he did not. So he left. They wanted to know if he had seen you.’

Stunned, Lourds stood there for a moment and didn’t know what to say. ‘Do you know where they took your father?’

‘Where does the Revolutionary Guard take any intellectual they view as a threat to them? To Evin Prison.’

For the first time, Lourds realized where Miriam had probably been taken, and the knowledge left him terrified. Horrible things happened at that prison. Although the regime denied it, reports came out of Iran frequently about the serial rapes and other brutal torment that went on inside that prison.

He concentrated on the young woman. ‘What’s your name?’

She hesitated, but she finally spoke. ‘Shirin.’

‘Shirin, if there is a way to do it, please understand that I’m going to help your father. I promise you that.’

She only looked at him until finally he couldn’t bear it any longer and returned to the waiting car. As he got in, he watched Shirin close the door and lift the window curtain. He didn’t know if she was calling the Revolutionary Guard to let them know that he’d been there or if she was trying to convince herself to believe him.

The student put the car into gear and pulled into the street.

Lourds dialed Reza’s number and waited as the call connected.

Evin District

Tehran, the Islamic Republic of Iran

August 13, 2011

In the shade of the teahouse beside the prison, Mufarrij sat and watched the installation. He’d reconnoitered Evin Prison before, but he’d never been assigned to break into the penitentiary. Now his orders were to do whatever it took to free the Israeli woman who had been with Thomas Lourds.

‘You are sure this man will come here?’ Haytham sat across the table from Mufarrij. His name translated into young hawk, and he resembled the predatory bird in his hooked nose and sharp, flashing eyes. He was in his early twenties, but was a stone killer and had slit his first throat – that of a Revolutionary Guardsman who had tried to rape his sister – when he was twelve.

‘Yes. The American is predictable. Once he finds out the woman is here, he will come. He won’t be able to help himself.’

‘I have seen this man’s files. He is no warrior.’

Mufarrij smiled at that. ‘It is even worse than that. The American is a romantic. He believes that good will triumph over evil.’

Haytham snorted in derision. ‘And, of course, America is good.’

‘Of course.’

‘I suppose he is going to raise an army to allow him to break in?’

‘I do not know. That is why we must be ready.’ That was also why the king had allotted Mufarrij the twenty men he now commanded. The Saudi spy network had integrated with the Iranian security measures seamlessly. These days the Revolutionary Guard didn’t know the Saudi spies were among them till it was far too late.

As it would be at Evin Prison.

‘Do you know where the woman is being held?’

‘Yes.’ Mufarrij reached into his jacket and took out a sheaf of papers. ‘I have drawn a map of the woman’s location. She is in one of the back units. We can blow the wall in that area and reach her within seconds. However, I want it to look like we are attacking from the front of the prison.’

‘To draw their security teams there?’

‘Yes, but also to make the Revolutionary Guardsmen think the attack is merely that of dissidents. I don’t want them to know true warriors are among them till we have blown that wall and have entered.’

‘Of course. How did you come by the information?’

‘The Revolutionary Guardsmen aren’t the only people inside that prison. There are prisoners as well, and sometimes they are allowed to speak with their families. I spread money among some of those families this morning when they went in to visit their loved ones.’ Mufarrij shrugged. ‘They needed the money. I needed the information. Also, as a bonus, I am certain they knew I meant no goodwill with the knowledge I received.’

Haytham smiled. ‘This is most assuredly so, my brother. But why do you not seek out this American and cast our lot in with his?’

‘Because at the first opportunity the American got, he would separate from us. Once he returns to Jerusalem, and I am sure that he must because the Dome of the Rock is there, and so is the secret that we all search for, it would be far too easy for him to escape us.’

‘However, if he never knows we are on his trail, we can seize the book.’

Mufarrij nodded. ‘Our goals are not his goals. I do not know what he intends to do with Mohammad’s Koran and the fabled Scroll when he finds them other than to make sure the Ayatollah doesn’t get it. But we must have it.’

Haytham scowled. ‘Is it as dangerous as I have heard?’

Taking a moment to think, Mufarrij sipped his tea. ‘From what I have been told about the legend of Mohammad’s lost Koran and Scroll, that Scroll outlines a worldwide
jihad.
We know that the Ayatollah has been stockpiling nuclear weapons he has received from Klaus Von Volker. If the Ayatollah can construe the Scroll to call for the destruction of the West and all nonbelievers, he can convince his followers to use those weapons. Even if he can’t control God’s vengeance to smite his enemies as he wishes, the Ayatollah can unleash enough destruction to change the face of the world forever.’