176: Chapter 173 The Substitute

The agent looked at Hussein.

There was hesitation in the agent's eyes.

If he captured Reza as a hostage, he might be able to escape Tehran.

If he succeeded, it would be a greater victory than an assassination.

"Come here!" the agent said.

Hussein continued to walk toward him.

But when Hussein was five meters away from the agent, he suddenly collapsed to the ground.

But there was another agent—the one playing the Revolutionary Guard soldier.

He acted at the very last moment.

In the midst of all the chaos, he rushed out from the crowd and charged toward Hussein.

He was holding a knife in his hand.

Hussein saw him.

He tried to dodge.

But it was too late.

The knife plunged into Hussein's abdomen.

The agent's next strike did not succeed—he was hit by a special forces soldier's bullet and fell.

But Hussein also fell.

His abdomen was bleeding.

Underground command center.

Reza was watching all of this through a monitor.

He saw Hussein fall.

He immediately rushed out of the command center.

"To the hospital!" he said to the driver. "Go to the hospital immediately!"

Twenty minutes later.

Reza arrived at the hospital.

Hussein had already been wheeled into the operating room.

The doctors were resuscitating him.

Reza waited outside the operating room.

His hands were trembling.

There were tears in his eyes.

He was praying.

He never prayed. But today, he was praying.

Please let Hussein survive.

Fatima came over. She stood silently by his side.

She did not speak.

She was just there.

Time passed very slowly.

One hour.

Two hours.

Three hours.

Finally, the attending physician came out.

There was blood on his surgical gown.

"Your Excellency Reza," he said.

"How is Hussein?"

The doctor was silent for a moment.

"We did our best," he said.

Reza closed his eyes.

He knew what that meant.

"He is still alive," the doctor continued, "but the situation is very dangerous. His liver was punctured. We operated for three hours, but there was too much blood loss."

"Will he survive?" Reza asked.

"I don't know," the doctor said. "The next twenty-four hours are critical. If he can make it through these twenty-four hours, he might survive. If not—"

The doctor did not finish.

But Reza understood.

"Can I see him?" Reza asked.

"Yes," the doctor said, "but he is in a coma."

Reza walked into the ward.

Hussein was lying on the bed. His face was pale. He was hooked up to many tubes.

Reza sat by the bedside.

He held Hussein's hand.

"Hussein," he said, "can you hear my voice?"

Hussein did not respond.

"Hussein," Reza said, "you saved me. You saved Iran. You must survive."

Hussein still did not respond.

But Reza could feel his hand move slightly.

Perhaps it was an illusion.

Perhaps it was hope.

Reza sat by the bedside, holding Hussein's hand.

He sat for several hours.

He did not leave.

Fatima came to persuade him.

"You need to rest," she said. "You need to work. Iran needs you."

"Iran also needs Hussein," Reza said.

"Reza—"

"I will stay here," Reza said, "until he wakes up."

Fatima was silent.

She sat beside Reza.

She also held Hussein's other hand.

Time ticked by second by second.

Ten o'clock in the evening.

Hussein suddenly opened his eyes.

"Reza—" he whispered.

Reza immediately leaned close to his ear.

"Hussein," he said, "I am here."

"Did I do it?" Hussein asked.

"Yes," Reza said, "you did it. We captured three agents and killed one. We saved the doctor. You saved me."

Hussein smiled.

"That's good," he said.

Then he closed his eyes again.

But this time, he was sleeping. Not in a coma.

He was sleeping.

The attending physician came to check on him.

"He survived," the doctor said. "Although recovery will take a long time, he will survive."

Reza breathed a sigh of relief.

He left the ward.

The next day, March 16.

Reza reported to the Supreme Leader.

"We captured three agents from Iraq," he said, "plus the one we captured earlier. We have captured all four agents sent by Saddam Hussein."

"And one was killed," the Supreme Leader said.

"Yes. One killed, three captured."

"Very good," the Supreme Leader said. "Saddam Hussein has lost his assassination team."

"Yes."

"What will Saddam Hussein do next?"

Reza thought for a moment.

"He will become more desperate," he said. "Desperate people will do crazy things."

"What kind of crazy things?"

"I don't know," Reza said, "but we must be prepared."

The Supreme Leader nodded.

"Reza," he said, "you did very well."

"Thank you."

"But," the Supreme Leader continued, "you also almost died. If it weren't for Hussein, you would be dead."

"Yes."

"Iran cannot lose you," the Supreme Leader said, "at least not before the war ends. So from now on, your safety is a matter under my personal supervision."

Reza did not speak.

He knew this meant the Supreme Leader would monitor him more closely.

But he also knew this was the greatest protection the Supreme Leader could give him.

"Thank you," he said.

"Also," the Supreme Leader said, "Hussein is a hero. He should be awarded the highest honor."

"I agree."

"I will go to see him personally," the Supreme Leader said.

"He will be honored," Reza said.

The meeting ended.

Reza walked out of the official residence.

He was in the car.

He was thinking.

He had saved his own life. But he had almost lost a friend.

He had won this round. But the cost was high.

The war was still continuing.

He knew that in the next round, he might not be so lucky.

He must be more careful.

He must be smarter.

He must be stronger.

Because he was the leader of Iran.

Because the people of Iran needed him.