“Maybe we will never have another chance,” Danush added.
“I feel the same,” Crocker said. “Do you know where Alizadeh and Suleimani live?”
“We do,” Anahita answered, “but the streets are heavily guarded.”
“What about their office?”
“The headquarters?” Danush asked. “No, that’s impossible.”
“Lots of things were impossible before someone did them,” Crocker said, gazing up at the sky, very aware that the window of time in which they had to launch an op was closing.
As she smoked her cigarette Anahita explained that John Smith had asked the same question about attacking Quds Force headquarters a week ago, and as a result, Ramin had done a study of the security of the building and its accessibility from adjoining structures. There was a bank to the right of it if you looked at the building from the front, and a movie theater on the left. The walls between them had been bombproofed with steel plates. The prospect of drilling or blasting through the walls in Quds Force HQ undetected were almost zero.
She explained that they had developed a source inside the movie theater, and the person had confirmed this.
“What about the roof?” Crocker asked.
“What roof?”
“The roof of Quds Force headquarters.”
Danush: “You would need a helicopter to get there, and the guards would see and hear it.”
“There’s a guard station up there, too,” Anahita added. “It’s manned day and night. But there’s an old passageway between the buildings that was blocked up when the theater was renovated three years ago.”
“What kind of passageway?” Crocker asked.
“A doorway, I think. Some kind of emergency exit on the third floor that’s blocked.”
“Blocked, in what way?”
Danush shrugged. “With steel plates, I think.”
Crocker was in no mood to accept defeat. “You said you knew someone who worked in the movie theater. Can he get us inside?”
“When?” Anahita asked.
“Tonight.”
She grinned, covered her mouth with her hand, then conferred with Danush in Farsi.
Akil, who stood behind Crocker, followed their discussion.
“What do you think?” Crocker asked.
“We have to arrange some things first,” Anahita said, “but we can try.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.
—Charles Bukowski
Approximately two hours later, the two Iranians returned in the same car. The engine continued running as Anahita stepped out and red dust swirled in front of the headlights.
“What happens now?” Crocker asked, shielding his eyes with his hand.
Her figure cast a huge black shadow over the plant. “Danush is going to take you to a place five minutes from here. When you get there, our friend will transport you in a truck.”
“Let me make sure I understand. You’re saying your friend is going to drive us to the movie theater?” Crocker asked.
The veins on her forehead shone in the car’s lights. “It’s extremely dangerous,” she replied, “but he’s going to try.”
“Good. Thanks. What’s this man’s name?”
“You can call him Rahman.”
“You know him and think you can trust him?”
She nodded and retied the scarf around her head. “Yes.”
“Are you coming?” Crocker asked her.
“No, I’ll wait here and worry. Maybe I should pray.”
“Pray, but don’t worry,” Crocker replied. “This is what we do.”
Akil sat in the passenger seat next to Danush. Crocker, Ritchie, and Mancini tried to look inconspicuous in back. The car rumbled past the steel plant and turned onto a paved four-lane road with little traffic. The gas flares from oil wells danced against the night sky ahead.
In an attempt to break the tension, Ritchie asked Danush if he’d ever been to the United States.
“No, but I would like to some day.” His English seemed to improve the more he spoke.
“If you go, what’s the first place you want to visit?”
“Miami,” Akil suggested. “I’d recommend Miami. South Beach, hot chicks, great clubs.”
“No, the Big Apple. New York City.”
“Why?” Ritchie asked.
“To see all the millions of people from all over the world living together in tall, tall buildings, riding in subways underground. And I want to go to Madison Square Garden to see the Knicks. They’re my favorite basketball team. I watch them on live streaming on my computer.”
Danush turned the Toyota onto a dirt road and wound past a hill to a place that smelled like rotten eggs. Crocker saw three trucks parked at odd angles fifty feet ahead. Danush stopped, shut off the engine, and got out.