192: Chapter 173 Oil Refining Area

April 14, 1982, Tehran.

Reza waited outside the Supreme Leader's office for forty minutes.

It was not because the Supreme Leader was busy, but because someone had entered before him and had not yet come out.

The secretary told him that the person inside was the Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Defense, Mahmoud Kazemi.

Reza sat in a chair and turned the name over in his mind.

He knew Kazemi. They had met at a joint meeting two years ago; he spoke rarely, but every time he opened his mouth, it was at a critical juncture. That type of person would not appear in the Supreme Leader's office at this time without reason.

Twenty minutes later, Kazemi came out.

He saw Reza, paused, nodded, and left. He did not speak.

Reza entered.

The Supreme Leader sat behind his desk with a cup of tea by his hand, untouched.

"The refinery district," Reza said, getting straight to the point. "I need a requisition order for three hundred heavy trucks to relocate core equipment."

The Supreme Leader looked at him.

"Kazemi also mentioned the refinery district just now," he said. "But his suggestion was to strengthen air defense, not to relocate equipment."

Reza paused internally.

"Strengthening air defense takes time and equipment. We do not have enough Persia-4s to cover all nodes right now," he said. "Relocating equipment is about preserving repair capabilities in the event that air defense fails. The two things are not contradictory, but the requisition order must be signed now because relocation takes time; the equipment cannot be moved in a single day."

"Kazemi says that relocating equipment will trigger civilian panic," the Supreme Leader said. "If word gets out, the civilians in Ahvaz will think the government has already abandoned the refinery district."

"Nighttime transfers, in batches, using military camouflage. We will tell the public it is routine equipment maintenance."

"Can you keep it hidden?"

"Not from everyone," Reza said. "But long enough."

The Supreme Leader put down his pen.

"Reza, do you know why Kazemi opposes the relocation plan?"

Reza did not answer; he waited.

"A portion of the equipment in the refinery district was procured under his responsibility," the Supreme Leader said. "If the equipment is damaged during the transfer, whose responsibility is it?"

Reza understood. This was not a tactical disagreement; this was shirking responsibility.

"If the refinery district is bombed," Reza said, "and the equipment is completely destroyed, whose responsibility is it then?"

The Supreme Leader was silent for a moment, then picked up his pen and signed the requisition order.

"Three hundred vehicles," he said. "But you will be responsible for all losses during the transfer process."

"Yes."

Reza took the requisition order and prepared to stand up.

"There is one more thing," the Supreme Leader said.

Reza stopped.

"Kazemi mentioned that intelligence from the front lines indicates Iraq's attack may come sooner than we anticipated."

"How much sooner?"

"He said, possibly within two weeks."

Reza compressed this number in his mind. Two weeks. His original estimate was three to four weeks.

"The source of the intelligence?"

"He did not say," the Supreme Leader said. "But he said the source is reliable."

Reza nodded and walked out.

He stood for a moment in the hallway.

Two weeks meant all his plans had to be compressed. Relocating equipment, originally planned for ten days, now had to be squeezed into five. Persian-5, originally three weeks, now had to be done in two. The issue with Hosseini, which could have been waited out, now had to be accelerated.

He took out his phone and called Karimi.

"Hosseini, has there been any movement today?"

"Yes," Karimi said. "He went to that small shop this afternoon and stayed inside for an hour and a half."

"What about the alleyway?"

"Our men are there, but he did not go out the back door."

Reza thought for a moment.

"He knows," he said.

"What?"

"He knows we are monitoring him, so he did not use the back door today."

"Then the fake plan—"

"He has it," Reza said. "But he does not dare to transmit it right now. He is waiting, waiting for us to let our guard down. Withdraw the people from the alleyway and let him think we have given up."

"But if he takes the opportunity to transmit it—"

"That would be perfect," Reza said. "I want him to transmit it."

The call ended.

Kazemi's intelligence, source unknown. Reza reviewed the matter in his mind. If Kazemi's intelligence source was the same network as Hosseini's, then the two-week timeline might have been intentionally released by Iraq to throw Iran into disarray. But if it were true, he had to prepare for two weeks.

He could not gamble.

He walked to the parking lot and sent a message to Galani: Relocation plan, compress to five days.

Galani's reply came quickly: Need to increase manpower.

Reza replied: I will handle it.

When the car drove out of Tehran, it was already dark. Reza leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and rearranged all the threads in his mind.

Hosseini, the refinery district, Persian-5, Walsh, Kazemi.

Five threads, each tightening.

He wrote a line in his notebook:

"When all problems arrive at the same time, it means someone is coordinating them."

He closed the notebook. Two weeks left.