191: Chapter 172 The Spark

April 13, 1982, Ahvaz.

Walsh's reply came, faster than Reza expected.

The letter was short, handwritten, and unsigned: "There are seven nodes in the strike plan, I only know four of them. The other three are not within my authority."

Reza read the letter twice and burned it.

That Walsh knew four meant his position in the intelligence chain wasn't high enough, or someone had deliberately withheld information from him.

The other three nodes were ones Reza didn't know.

He called for Bahrami.

"The refinery zone," Reza said, "if you were an Iraqi staff officer, which nodes would you strike?"

Bahrami didn't answer immediately; he took the map and leaned over the table, studying it for nearly five minutes.

"The three junctions of the main oil pipeline," he said. "Take these three out, and the crude oil input for the entire refinery zone is cut off. Even if the refining equipment is intact, there will be no raw material to refine."

"Anything else?"

"The central control room of the oil storage area," Bahrami said. "Once this is bombed, all valve controls will fail, the storage tanks will automatically depressurize, a large amount of crude oil will leak, and it will trigger a chain reaction of fires."

"These four," Reza said, "do they match the four Walsh knows?"

Bahrami paused for a moment.

"You already know?"

"I know four," Reza said, "but there are three more I don't know. Continue."

Bahrami looked at the map again.

"If I wanted to completely paralyze it, not just stop production, but make the repair time exceed one year," he said, "I would hit three more places."

He pointed to three spots.

Reza wrote down these three spots, combined them with Walsh's four, and compared them against Galani's relocation plan.

Seven nodes; Galani's plan only covered five.

"These two," Reza circled the remaining two points, "are not covered in Galani's plan."

"I'll go find him," Bahrami said.

"No need," Reza said. "You work on the protection plan for these two nodes, and Galani will handle the overall coordination. You don't need to have a meeting; just do your own parts, and I'll integrate them at the end."

Bahrami nodded and left with the map.

Reza wrote a line in his notebook: Seven nodes, all plans within five days.

Then he turned to the next page and wrote down Hosseini's name.

Three days of surveillance; Karimi gave him a detailed report yesterday.

There was a detail in Hosseini's movements that caught Reza's attention.

Every time he went to Tehran, Hosseini took a long-distance bus, not a plane, and not a military vehicle.

A long-distance bus meant no records, no registration, and no traceable tracks.

This wasn't the habit of an ordinary person; it was the habit of someone who had been trained.

Reza circled this detail separately.

In the afternoon, Karimi came in.

"Hosseini asked for leave today," Karimi said, "the reason being family matters."

"Where did he go?"

"Still tracking," Karimi said, "but he didn't go to the bus station. He went to a friend's house in Ahvaz."

"Who is that friend?"

"A retired Revolutionary Guard soldier," Karimi said, "who runs a small shop in Ahvaz. We checked him out; there are no issues."

"How long did they stay there?"

"Two hours, then Hosseini went home."

Reza thought for a moment.

"That small shop," he said, "does it have a back door?"

Karimi paused.

"I'll go check."

He went out and returned twenty minutes later.

"It has a back door," Karimi said, "leading to an alley, and the other end of the alley goes out to a market."

Reza nodded.

"When Hosseini went in, our people were at the front door," he said. "He went out the back door, and we didn't follow."

"Yes."

"Those two hours," Reza said, "he wasn't at that friend's house. He went out the back door, met someone else, then came back, and then went out the front door."

Karimi was silent for a moment.

"That friend," he said, "was a cover."

"Yes," Reza said. "That retired soldier might not know what he's doing, or he might. Don't move against him yet."

"What about Hosseini?"

"Keep waiting," Reza said, "but next time, we'll wait for him in that alley."

Karimi went out.

Reza stood up and walked to the window.

He was thinking about something.

If Hosseini was a spy, did the information he passed on contain anything about the refinery zone protection plan?

If it did, Iraq would know Iran was reinforcing the refinery zone, and they would adjust their strike plan to target the weaknesses in the defenses.

Reza returned to the table, picked up a pen, and wrote a fake refinery zone protection plan.

In the plan, he deliberately wrote the protection measures for two key nodes incorrectly, marking the reinforced locations in places that actually had no protection.

If Hosseini passed this plan on, Iraq would launch missiles at those two locations, and at those two locations, Reza would pre-deploy air defense forces.

He put this fake plan into the pile of documents that Hosseini could access.

Then he wrote a note to Galani: The real protection plan is known only to you, me, Karimi, and Bahrami. If anyone else asks, answer according to the fake plan.

After the note was sent, Reza sat in his chair and waited.

Waiting for Hosseini to act.

Waiting for Iraq's missiles to hit the wrong locations.

Waiting for this lead to be completely exposed.

At nine in the evening, Karimi came in.

"Your Excellency Reza," he said, "I have new intelligence."

"Speak."

"Our informant in southern Iraq," Karimi said, "reports that Iraq's Scud missile launchers have moved about thirty kilometers south in the past forty-eight hours."

"South," Reza said, "closer to the range of the refinery zone."

"Yes."

"Quantity?"

"The informant says he saw at least twenty launchers," Karimi said, "but he isn't sure how many missiles are on each vehicle."

Reza measured the distance on the map.

Twenty launchers, if one per vehicle, that's twenty missiles. If two per vehicle, that's forty.

Plus aerial bombing, the total could exceed sixty-three.

"The inventory of the Persia-4," Reza said, "how much is there now?"

"Sixty-three," Karimi said, "Fatima just confirmed it today."

Reza closed his eyes.

Right on the edge.

"Tell Fatima," he said, "to speed up the progress of the Persian-5. I don't care what method you use; I need at least two combat-ready Persian-5s within three weeks."

"Three weeks? She said it would take five months."

"Three weeks," Reza said. "Not mass production, just two that can be used. Tell her, I don't want perfect; I want something that can fight."

Karimi went out.

Reza wrote a line in his notebook:

"Time is never enough. But time not being enough is not a reason to stop."

He closed the notebook.

The phone rang.

It was Galani.

"The refinery zone relocation plan," Galani said, "I've finished it, but there's a problem."

"What problem?"

"Relocating the core equipment requires at least three hundred heavy trucks," Galani said, "and we can only mobilize one hundred and twenty right now."

"Where will the rest come from?"

"Civilian ones," Galani said, "but requisitioning civilian vehicles requires a government order and the approval of the Supreme Leader."

Reza thought for a moment.

"I'll handle it," he said. "You mobilize the one hundred and twenty that are available first, and start relocating the most critical equipment."

"Yes."

The phone hung up.

Reza picked up another phone and called the Supreme Leader's secretary.

"I need to see the Supreme Leader tomorrow," he said, "it's urgent."

"I will arrange it," the secretary said.

The phone hung up.

Reza leaned back in his chair.

The three-month countdown had already passed nine days.

He still had eighty-one days left.

But the refinery zone issue might not wait eighty-one days.

He wrote the final line in his notebook:

"Some things must be done before time runs out."

He closed the notebook, stood up, and walked out of the office.

The night wind outside was cold.

He stood at the door and looked at the sky for a while.

Then he walked toward the parking lot.

Tomorrow, Tehran.