72: Chapter 69 The Nameless Place

February 3, 1979, Tehran.

In the three days since leaving the Motahari Mosque, Reza had no direct contact with Ayatollah Khomeini's side.

It was not about waiting; it was about rhythm.

He understood very well that after a conversation of that level, both sides needed time to digest—Ayatollah Khomeini needed to assess the true extent of his threat and needed to form some sort of consensus within his advisory group; Reza needed to let the other side see that he was not impatient, not pushing step by step, but someone with the patience to wait.

During these three days, he did three things.

First, he met with Najjari.

Najjari arranged to meet him at an ordinary teahouse in northern Tehran. Karimi had confirmed in advance that there was no surveillance around; it was an address chosen by Najjari himself.

Upon seeing him, Najjari did not engage in small talk. His first sentence was: "My nephew is with you; how is he performing?"

"Very well," Reza said. "Daoud is even more capable than you described. After he joined, the propellant formula was optimized by 11 percent, and two extra missiles were produced in the first batch."

Upon hearing this news, a flash of almost imperceptible relief crossed Najjari's face—the kind of relief that only comes after entrusting someone important to others and hearing that they were being treated well—Reza remembered this detail.

"I heard about the Ayatollah meeting you," Najjari cut straight to the core. "What do you think?"

"He is testing me," Reza said. "Testing where the boundaries of my ambition lie. My answer was 'Give me a position where I can get things done.' He did not directly reject this answer, but he did not accept it either. He needs time to judge whether I am controllable or uncontrollable."

"And if he judges you to be uncontrollable?"

Reza looked straight at Najjari: "What do you think he would do?"

Najjari was silent for a few seconds, then said: "From what I know of the Ayatollah, if he were the type to act immediately just because someone might pose a threat, he wouldn't have waited fifteen years in Paris. He is an extremely patient man. He will put you in a position where he can keep an eye on you, but at the same time, use you."

"Then I will wait to be kept an eye on," Reza said, "as long as I can get things done."

Najjari took these words in, nodded, and then said something that surprised Reza:

"Your Highness, there is something I have always wanted to ask you, but I wasn't sure if I should."

"Ask."

"You have been laying out a plan from the very beginning. Everything you've done—finding oil fields, engaging in military industry, contacting people in the military, and establishing ties with the Ayatollah's side—these things have an astonishing consistency in direction, as if you knew in advance where every step should land." He paused. "I want to know, is this consistency something you calculated, or is there another reason?"

This question was extremely precise.

Reza looked at Najjari, without avoiding the question, and said something that was half truth and half lie:

"You can understand it as me being someone who understands the reality of Iran and external pressures better than most people. I know what this land has been worn down into over the past thirty years, I know how many nails foreign powers have buried in this land, and I know what cracks will appear when these nails loosen at the same time—and I am just putting my stones in before these cracks appear."

This answer was not a lie, but it did not reveal any information related to time travel; it packaged a "prophet" as a "profound understanding of reality."

After hearing this, Najjari was silent for a few seconds, then said: "I can accept this explanation."

The second thing was, through Karimi's channels, obtaining a list of cabinet candidates after Bakhtiar stepped down—not the official list published by Ayatollah Khomeini's side, but an unofficial list circulating within the Revolutionary Council, marked with the background, faction, and potential political leanings of each candidate.

Reza spent an evening carefully reviewing this list. He crossed out two names, circled three names, and wrote a question mark next to a fourth name.

The two crossed-out names were the two most radical people in Ayatollah Khomeini's advisory group—if these two entered the core cabinet, they would push the entire new government's policy direction toward extreme fundamentalism, and at that point, all of Reza's political room for maneuver would be compressed.

The three circled names were all relatively pragmatic technocratic figures, without strong religious or political factional colors. Their commonality was: they were willing to deal with practical problems and were unwilling to ideologize everything.

The name with a question mark next to it was the only person on the list without any marked factional background—a parliamentarian named Rafsanjani, with only one sentence in the notes: "Position unclear, but has had contact with several core advisors around the Ayatollah."

What Reza wrote next to this name was: "Contact him, before the possibility of becoming an enemy becomes reality."

The third thing was sending an encrypted message to Fatima, with only one sentence:

"Persia-1 Type B, start the second batch, target production doubled, location unchanged."

When this message was sent, in the underground workshop in Ahvaz, Fatima was discussing a detail of a propellant formula with Daoud. The two argued for nearly twenty minutes. Finally, Iskandari stepped in, took half of each person's plan, and stitched together a compromise solution that was more stable than both of their original plans.

Afterwards, Daoud said to Iskandari: "She really doesn't know how to give up."

Iskandari replied: "In this place, not giving up is the only useful quality."

On February 5, Bakhtiar announced his resignation as Prime Minister.

When the news reached Reza, he was on the phone with Farrokhzad—Farrokhzad had called on his own initiative, and his voice was noticeably tense:

"The military just held an emergency meeting. The topic was 'The role of the military in the new political landscape.' Several people openly stated at the meeting that the military should not interfere in politics and should obey the orders of the supreme representative of the popular will."

"Who said that?" Reza asked.

"The first was Brigadier General Ali Rajai, from the Ministry of Defense; the second was Mohammadi, the one you met," Farrokhzad said. "The statements of these two people pulled the entire tone of the meeting over. The problem now is, who is the supreme representative of the popular will—the military needs a clear source of orders, otherwise it is an armed force without direction."

"What do you intend to do?" Reza asked.

"I don't know," Farrokhzad said, "I need you to tell me what your plan is."

This sentence made Reza pause for a second—not hesitation, but he was re-evaluating the person in front of him. Farrokhzad was not someone who would be carried away by emotions. He was now asking directly "What is your plan," which showed that he was no longer just testing, but demanding some kind of clear commitment.

Reza thought for two seconds and gave a concrete answer:

"My plan is that Iran needs an army that does not depend on any single political force, an army that is responsible only to the country itself. The commander of this army is determined by professional ability, not by political stance. I need the army to stand on this position from the first day after the revolution is completed, and it must be united enough, united to the point where no one dares to tear you apart without sufficient support."

The other end of the phone was silent for a few seconds, and then Farrokhzad said something that made Reza feel this phone call was not in vain:

"I understand. I'm going to see Rajai tonight."

After hanging up the phone, Reza circled this day on the calendar and marked it with two words: "Army Building."

On February 9, Ayatollah Khomeini officially announced the establishment of the provisional government of the Islamic Republic, appointing Mehran Bakhtiar as acting president and appointing Mozaffar Bavi as prime minister.

There was no Reza's name on this list.

When Hassan saw this list, his first reaction was: "Ayatollah Khomeini didn't give you any position."

"He gave me the most precious thing," Reza said, "Time."

Hassan did not immediately understand the meaning of this sentence. Reza added: "He didn't put me on the list, and he didn't exclude me from the list. This means he is still observing me, and observation means possibility. A person who has already been put on the list is not as free as someone who is not on the list—he has already been defined, and being defined means being restricted."

This was Reza's real calculation: at this point in time, being put into the new government was actually a disadvantage, because the first thing after the new government was established was to deal with various historical legacy issues, and the biggest one among the historical legacy issues—US-Iran relations—was a hot potato that would burn whoever took it. Ayatollah Khomeini not letting him take this over was both protecting him and observing him.

"Then what will you do next?" Hassan asked.

"Return to Khuzestan," Reza said, "Stabilize the rear, and at the same time wait for an opportunity—wait for something to happen at the US Embassy."

"Something to happen?" Hassan frowned.

"It's coming soon," Reza said, "And it will be a major event that will change the entire landscape of the Middle East."

He did not explain how soon "coming soon" was, nor did he explain what scale the "major event" was. He knew that these things could not be explained clearly in advance, and he could only wait for the people around him to experience it for themselves when it happened—the shock brought by that sense of foreknowledge was sometimes more convincing than a propaganda machine built with heavy gold.