163: Chapter 160 Thunder

February 25, 1982, Ahvaz.

Karimi ran into Reza's office.

"Javadi has agreed," he said.

Reza looked up.

"When?"

"Last night," Karimi said, "he called Beheshti and agreed to let the Iraqi engineer come to help him."

"When is the Iraqi coming?"

"Beheshti said in three days. An Iraqi engineer will enter through Turkey and then go to Tehran to find Javadi."

Reza tapped his fingers on the desk.

Three days.

He had three days to prepare.

"We are going to catch everyone," Reza said, "Javadi, Beheshti, the Iraqi engineer, and everyone else involved."

"Arrest them now?" Karimi asked.

"Not yet," Reza said, "wait until the Iraqi engineer has entered the country. Wait until they meet. I want them caught in the act when they meet."

"Why?"

"Because then," Reza said, "the evidence will be absolute. No one will be able to deny it. Javadi is a traitor, Beheshti is a spy, and there will be no room for excuses."

Karimi understood.

"What about Javadi's project?" he asked.

"Let him continue," Reza said, "he hasn't realized he's being watched yet. Let him keep working on his project."

"Understood."

"Also," Reza said, "notify the Supreme Leader."

Karimi looked at Reza.

"Notify him now?"

"Yes," Reza said, "tell him now. I have all the evidence. I need his support."

"I will arrange a meeting."

Tehran, the Supreme Leader's office.

Reza laid all the evidence out on the desk.

Photographs, communication logs, bank transfer records, and Karimi's reports.

The Supreme Leader looked through them one by one.

The more he read, the paler his face became.

Finally, he looked up at Reza.

"Beheshti?" he said, "Beheshti is an Iraqi spy?"

"Yes," Reza said.

"He took one million dollars from Iraq?"

"Yes."

The Supreme Leader closed his eyes.

He had known Beheshti for forty years. They had studied theology together in Qom. They had resisted the Pahlavi regime together. They had built the Islamic Republic together.

And now, he was being told that Beheshti was a traitor.

"What do you intend to do?" he finally asked.

"In three days, the Iraqi engineer will arrive in Tehran," Reza said, "he will meet with Javadi. I will arrest everyone at that time."

"And Beheshti?"

"I will arrest him too," Reza said, "on the same day, at the same time."

The Supreme Leader was silent.

"This will shake all of Iran," he said, "an Ayatollah being a traitor—this has never happened before."

"I know," Reza said, "but we must deal with it."

"What if we put him on public trial?" the Supreme Leader asked, "would that not cause the Iranian religious community to lose faith?"

"It would," Reza said, "so we will not hold a public trial."

The Supreme Leader looked at Reza.

"Then how do we handle it?"

"A secret execution," Reza said, "announce to the public that he passed away due to a heart attack."

The Supreme Leader was silent for a long time.

"That is a very heavy decision," he said.

"Yes," Reza said, "but it is necessary."

The Supreme Leader finally nodded.

"Very well," he said, "do as you say. But keep everything confidential."

"I will."

February 28, 1982, Iran-Turkey border.

An Iraqi engineer entered the country.

He was using a forged Turkish passport.

The border inspector looked at his passport and let him pass.

But in reality, the border inspector was a member of the Iranian intelligence system. He already knew who this engineer was.

The engineer got into a car and drove toward Tehran.

Along the way, he did not know that Iranian agents were following him the entire time.

Tehran, Javadi's office.

Javadi was waiting.

He knew the Iraqi engineer would arrive today.

He did not know that what he had done was already known to Reza.

He did not know that he was about to be arrested.

At 3:00 PM, the doorbell rang.

Javadi opened the door.

A middle-aged man stood at the door.

"I am Mostafa," the man said, "Beheshti sent me."

"Come in," Javadi said.

Mostafa entered the office.

The two men began discussing the project.

But what they did not know was that there was a listening device in the office. Reza was listening to their conversation.

"I can help you build a system to counter Cruise missile," Mostafa said, "but I need some materials."

"What materials?"

"Some electronic components," Mostafa said, "and some radar system blueprints."

"I can provide them," Javadi said.

"There is one more thing," Mostafa said, "I need to see the data on Iran's Persia-4 Missile. I need to know what Iran's existing air defense system is like."

Javadi froze.

"Data on the Persia-4 Missile?" he said, "that is classified."

"I know," Mostafa said, "but I need this data to develop a complementary system."

Javadi was silent.

He knew that giving data on the Persia-4 Missile to a foreigner was treason.

But he also knew he had no choice. If he didn't give it, his project would fail. If his project failed, he was finished.

"Fine," he finally said, "I will give it to you."

He opened the safe and took out a document.

It was the complete technical data for the Persia-4 Missile.

He handed the document to Mostafa.

At that very moment, the door was kicked open.

"Don't move!"

Iranian agents rushed into the office.

Mostafa immediately reached for his pocket—he had a handgun.

But before he could pull it out, an agent pinned him to the ground.

Javadi raised his hands.

His face was pale, and he was trembling.

"General Javadi," Karimi walked into the office, "you are under arrest. The charges are treason and selling military secrets to a foreign power."

Javadi lowered his head.

He said nothing.

He knew that everything was over.

At the same moment, in Tehran, at Beheshti's home.

Beheshti was in his study.

He was on the phone with a friend.

Suddenly, the door was kicked open.

Iranian agents rushed into the study.

Beheshti immediately hung up the phone.

"Who are you?" he shouted, "how dare you break into the home of an Ayatollah!"

An agent walked up to him.

"Mr. Beheshti," he said, "we are from the Intelligence Department. Please come with us."

"On what grounds?" Beheshti said.

The agent handed him a document.

It was an arrest warrant.

The signature was that of the Supreme Leader.

Beheshti looked at the arrest warrant, and his expression changed.

He knew he was finished.

He had been caught.

The Supreme Leader already knew everything.

"This is a misunderstanding," he said, "I can explain."

"You can explain in the interrogation room," the agent said.

The agents took Beheshti away.

Ahvaz, Reza's office.

Karimi reported over the phone.

"Javadi, Mostafa, Beheshti—all captured," he said, "not a single one escaped."

"Very good," Reza said, "now, begin the interrogation."

"Yes."

The phone hung up.

Reza sat in his office, looking out the window.

He had defeated a traitor.

He had defeated a spy.

He had defeated an Iraqi agent.

But he knew this was just the beginning.

There were more opponents within Iran.

There were more threats outside of Iraq.

The war was still continuing.

The political struggle was still continuing.

But now, he had more advantages.

He had control.

He had the initiative.

He had a chance at victory.

He wrote a line in his notebook:

"Today, I defeated Beheshti. Tomorrow, I will defeat more opponents. Ultimately, I will win this war."

He closed the notebook.

The phone rang.

It was Fatima.

"The air defense missiles have all been deployed," she said, "all fifty Persia-4 Missiles are in the west."

"Very good," Reza said, "when will the Iraqi bombers arrive?"

"Our intelligence indicates," Fatima said, "it will be tomorrow at dawn."

"Good," Reza said, "prepare to receive them."

The phone hung up.

Reza stood up and walked to the window.

Tomorrow at dawn, one hundred Iraqi bombers would enter Iranian airspace.

They thought they could destroy Iran's Scud missile bases.

But they did not know they were flying into a trap.

Tomorrow at dawn, Iran would give Iraq a lesson it would never forget.

Tomorrow at dawn, the skies of Iran would become the graveyard of the Iraqi Air Force.