The Disciple

Grafton came around the desk and pulled up a chair. He leaned forward so that his face was inches from Azari’s. “Iran may be building nuclear weapons. If they use them on anyone, we will nuke Iran. We will turn your country into a radioactive wasteland. You are a very small chip in a very big, very dangerous game. A lot of lives are at risk, so what happens to you won’t even be a footnote.”

Azari was perspiring again. “I don’t want to go to prison,” he said.

“If you warn your case officer, by word or deed, the tiniest hint, the FBI will arrest you for espionage. I want you to believe that.”

Azari’s eyes widened, and he stared.

“This I promise,” Jake said. “If you betray us, you’ll spend the rest of your life in a cell.”

After Azari was gone, Grafton and Myron Emerick listened to some of the recording of the interview. It was well after two in the morning when they shut it off.

“I hope he believed you,” Emerick said.

“I hope he got the message.” Jake clucked his tongue. “How many men do you have to put on him?”

“Six. And if this goes on more than a couple of weeks, it will be maybe four. You know how thin we’re spread.”

“Umm,” Jake Grafton said. “I want you to talk to them. Someone may well ice Professor Azari.”

“You think?”

“That’s one of the moves on the board. If the Iranians murder him, it would appear that the stories he has been telling are true.”

“Okay,” Emerick said slowly.

“Remind your agents that they are not bodyguards; they are observers.”

“What they are is law enforcement officers,” Emerick said curtly. “If a crime happens in front of them, they will try to apprehend the perps-and prevent anyone else from being hurt.”

“Fine. Just tell them not to stop a bullet to save Azari’s worthless hide.”

Myron Emerick stared at the admiral, then said, “Okay.” Changing the subject, he asked, “How will you know if Azari squeals to his case officer?”

“The Iranians will put Davar Ghobadi against a wall and shoot her,” Jake said. “They won’t need her anymore.”

I saw the helicopter long before I heard it. It was ru

He was making big, slow oblongs. As I watched I realized he was working closer. Coming this way.

The realization that he was probably keeping a car under surveillance crystallized in my nervous mind.

Finally I saw the car, still three miles or so away, crawling up that dirt road toward the pass.

The chopper was higher now, almost at my elevation. I wondered if he could hover at this altitude.

Even if he couldn’t, if he thought Davar was meeting someone up here, he could call for help, blockade the road. The road leading off the mountain to the north, too. We would be trapped up here, sure as shootin’.

Once I realized what he was up to, I got behind a tree and braced the AK against it. Selected automatic fire.

I didn’t have long to wait. Within a minute, while the car was still a couple of miles down the grade, he came scooting for the pass, no doubt looking it over.

I watched him come, found that aiming the damned rifle with goggles on was difficult, to say the least. Now I could hear his engine and the rotor whop, faintly at first, but getting steadily louder as he approached. I jerked the goggles off and dropped them.

Now I saw him, a darker shape in the dark night.

He was only fifty or so yards away, right over the road, and I could see the glow of his cockpit lights when I squeezed the trigger. Holding the rifle on the cockpit as best I could and tracking the chopper as it flew from my right to left, I gave him a long burst, sprayed him good.

When I released the trigger, the machine was in a gentle descent on the north side of the ridge and the sounds of my shots were echoing around me. The helicopter kept going down, the sound fading. I was having trouble following it with my eyes-it seemed to be veering right… straight into a steep slope, where it crashed. I saw a flash and heard the crunch, and the engine fell silent. Flame flickered, then became brighter. I thought the chopper might explode, but several moments passed and it didn’t. Just burned steadily.

I put on the night vision goggles and took a squint. The crash was at least a mile away, and the flame made it impossible to see anything near it.

I checked in the other direction. The car grinding up the hill was still a good distance away.

I gathered my stuff and began working down the steep slope to the road. I was walking south toward the edge of the cut when the car came up the hill and stopped beside me. Davar was in the passenger seat, wearing her boy’s outfit.

After I took off the goggles, I opened the rear passenger door and climbed in.

“Did you people see the helicopter that was keeping an eye on you?”

“What helicopter?” Davar said, obviously shocked.

“I shot it down. It’s over there on that slope, about a mile away. Someone will miss it soon, so we better do our talking and get the hell off this mountain. Why in the name of God did you pick this damn place for a meet?”

She ignored the question. The driver was looking me over, checking the AK. He was about thirty-it was hard to tell with just the panel lights illuminating them. A head of unruly hair, a nice shirt and a short beard, which was more of a fashion statement than a religious one.

“My cousin Ghasem.”

“Hey,” I said, reluctant to take my hand off the pistol grip of the rifle.

“He wants you to send a manuscript to America.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“A manuscript,” she repeated. She held up the package for my inspection.

I was underwhelmed. I had just shot down a helicopter and killed a planeload of men for a fucking manuscript?

“I can do that,” I agreed, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. “Then what?”

They obviously hadn’t thought that far ahead. Confusion reigned for ten or fifteen seconds. “Pass it to Azari,” Davar said.

“That jerk may be a shill for the mullahs,” I said roughly. “Someone is feeding him information he isn’t getting from you. Whatever this manuscript is, you want it to see the light of day, better come up with another plan.”

They started to discuss it, but I cut them off. “I’ll send it to my boss-he’ll figure it out. Ghasem, pull down the road a hundred meters or so and turn around. My car is there. Anything else?”

Ghasem got the car in motion.

“You wanted to see a bomb factory,” Davar said. “If you deliver the manuscript to safety, Ghasem will take you there.”

Oooh. Things were looking up, which always made me suspicious. I am getting so damned cynical. A friggin’ manuscript, and now an offer of help! Who is ru

Ghasem found the spot where I’d stashed my ride and began turning. Far below, coming up the grade from the north, I saw a set of headlights.

It took him three back-and-forths to get the car turned. I was sure he was going to get it stuck, but he didn’t. When he had the car pointed back toward Tehran, I opened the door and got out. Held the door open and asked, “Where and when?”

He named a restaurant. Three days from now.

Davar passed me the manuscript, which was wrapped in paper and held with a string.

“See you then,” I said and slammed the door.

The car drove off.

I didn’t waste a minute. Got in my car and backed out. Left the headlights off and began following them down the grade. After a few hundred yards, I put the night vision goggles back on.

If they got stopped on the way down or on the road into town, I intended to bail out and abandon the car.