THE TEHRAN INITIATIVE [ON-GOING]

PREFACE

PREFACE
FROM THE TWELFTH IMAM

TEHRAN, IRAN
TUESDAY, MARCH1

David Shirazi Wondered if they'd even make it to the safe house to Karaj.

As he inched forward in Tehran's Stop-and-go traffic toward Azadi Square he saw the flashing lights of police cars ahead. Despite the roar of jumbo jets and cargo planes landing at Mehrabad International Malik, The highest-ranking nuclear scientist in the Islamic Republic of Iran and the most valuable defector to the Central Intelligence Agency in a generation.

"They're setting up a roadblock", David said

Najjar stiffened. "Then we need to get off this road."

David agreed. The problem was that every side street from here to the square was clogged with hundreds of other side street from here to their way around the logjam as well.

"We're going to have get rid of this car"

"Why?, What for?!?"

"The moment a police officer runs these license plates, he's going to come up with your name. We don't want to be in the car when that happens."

Without a Warning david pulled the steering wheel hard to the right, He darted across two lanes of traffic, triggering a wave of angry honks.

Under no circumstances could he allow himself to get caught or implicated in the extraction of Najjar from the country. To do either would blow his cover and compromise all the work he'd done. The Twelfth Imam's inner circle would never use the new satellite phones he'd just provided them. The MDS technical teams would be thrown out of the country. The CIA's multimillion-dollar effort to penetrate the Iranian regime would ruined. And Given that Iran now had the Bomb, The CIA needed every advantage it could possibly get.

David heard a sirend behind them. He cursed as he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw flashing lights about ten cars back. He guessed that a police cruiser had spotted his rapid and reckless exit from Azadi road and gotten suspecious. Najjar, cooler than David would have expected under the circumstances, bowed his head and began to pray. David admired his courage. The worse thing got, the calmer the man became.

The siren and flashing lights were getting closer. Davif turned the wheel, jumped the curb, pulled Najjar's car off the congested street and onto the sidewalk, and hit the accelerator. Pedestrians started screaming and diving out of the way as David plowed through trash cans. The police cruiser was left in the dust, and David left himself smile.

The escape, however, was momentary. By the time they reached Qalani Street and took a hard left, another police cruiser was waiting. David wove in and out of traffic, but despite blowing through one light after another, he was steadily losing ground. Najjar was not praying anymore. He was craning his neck to see what was happening behind them and urging David to go faster. The road ahead was coming to an end. David suggested Najjar to grab the door handle and brace for impact.

"Why?" Najjar asked at the last moment. "What are you going to do?!"

David never answered. Instead, he slammed on the brakes and turned the steering wheel hard to the right, sending the car screeching and spinning across four lanes of traffic.

They were hit twice. The first was by the police cruiser itself. The second was by a southbound delivery truck that never saw them coming. The air bagd inside Najjar's car exploded upon impact, saving their lives but filling the vichicle with smoke and fumes. But theirs was not the only collision. In less than six seconds, David had triggered a seventeen-car pileup on Azizi Boulevard, shutting down traffic in all directions.