Joel Rosenberg - The Twelfth Imam

David could hear a helicopter approaching from the southeast. He had no time to lose. Adrenaline coursing through his system, he made his way to the first officer, grabbed the revolver from his hand, and sprinted toward the second officer. Racing through the maze of cars, he approached the garbage truck, stopped quickly, and glanced around the side. The second officer was waiting for him and got a shot off. David pulled back, waited a beat, then looked again and fired.

The round hit the officer in the shoulder. Screaming in pain, the man spun around but didn’t drop. Instead, he began firing wildly at David, stumbling backward as he did.

David’s first.38 was now out of bullets. Using his shirt, he wiped it clean of his fingerprints and tossed it aside. Then, with the second.38 in hand, he circled back to the other side of the garbage truck. Using the truck as his shield, he made a dash for where he had left Najjar.

But to his shock, Najjar wasn’t there. The second officer was.

The man fired three more times. David could hear the bullets whizzing past his head. He dove left behind the Chevy, then flattened himself against the ground and fired under the car at the officer’s feet. One of the shots was a direct hit. The man fell to the ground but refused to quit. David could hear him radioing for help and giving his superiors David’s physical description. Then, before David realized what was happening, the officer crawled around the front of the Chevy, took aim at David’s chest, and fired again.

David instinctively leaned right, but the shot grazed his left arm. Still, with all the adrenaline in his system, he didn’t feel a thing. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he righted himself, took aim, and squeezed off two more rounds at the officer’s head, killing the man instantly.

David’s mobile phone rang, but he ignored it. Blood was everywhere. More sirens were approaching, as was the helicopter. They had to get out of there. They couldn’t let themselves be caught. But Najjar was nowhere to be found.

Again his phone rang, but still David ignored it. Frantic, he looked for Najjar in, behind, and around car after car. Up and down the block he searched, to no avail. Now his phone vibrated. Furious, he checked the text message. It was from Eva.

EF: 3rd bldg on rt.

David suddenly got it. He glanced at the sky, thankful for Eva and her team watching his back from two hundred miles up. He made his way up the street to the third apartment building on the right, a four-story walk-up that had seen better days. A few bright orange geraniums in ceramic pots gave the place a look of pride and even some cheer, despite its faded glory. Why was Najjar in there? Who had taken him? There wasn’t anyone standing outside the building.

David was out of time. How could he search every apartment before the whole area was flooded with police? But what other choice did he have? He pressed himself close to the dirty windows, thankful that the caked dirt from the city streets obscured any view from inside. His gun drawn, he slowly edged his way toward the entrance, wondering what had happened to the doorman. There was one at every apartment building in this city; they were there supposedly for security but in reality spent their time smoking cigarettes and minding everyone’s business. But there was no doorman here, only an empty chair on the front steps.

David did a quick peek into the lobby, fearing the worst.

Najjar was there, but he was not alone. On the marble floor next to him were the laptop and accessories. And in Najjar’s arms was the six-year-old girl from the street. He was trying to keep her warm and telling her everything would be all right.

David began to breathe again. “Didn’t I tell you not to move?”

“I didn’t want her to get hit,” Najjar said.

David wiped blood from his mouth. “We need to go.”

“There’s a Renault out front, and it’s running,” Najjar said.

“Where’s the owner?”

“She jumped out to help me with the girl. I asked her to find a blanket, and she went upstairs to knock on doors.”

David nodded. “Then we’d better move now, before she gets back.”

It was beautiful-and theirs for the taking.

Not seeing anyone looking their way, David and Najjar bolted across the street and got in the platinum Renault coupe. David did a K-turn and swung the Renault around, and the two men were on their way.

With the exception of emergency vehicles approaching them, the northbound side of Azizi Boulevard was fairly clear. The disaster behind them prevented any vehicles from heading north and had no doubt backed up traffic for many kilometers. David turned west on Salehi, then took a right on the Jenah Highway. Their route to Karaj was going to be a bit circuitous and would take longer than he’d hoped, but at least they were finally on their way as Eva-using live imagery from a KH-12 Keyhole satellite-helped them navigate around police checkpoints, roadblocks, and further traffic.

David felt no sense of relief, however. They were far from safe, and he was under no illusions. His diversion hadn’t worked as intended. He’d hoped to create a wreck that would shake the police car following them, lock up traffic behind him, allow him to steal a car that still worked, and let him slip away with Najjar unnoticed. He hadn’t planned on becoming a cop killer in the process, and the notion haunted him. Everything had spiraled out of control. He’d had no other choice. He’d only fired in self-defense. But his mission was now in jeopardy.

If anyone could give an accurate description of him to the Tehran police…

David couldn’t bear the implications of where that sentence led, and he dreaded his next conversation with Zalinsky, who, of course, had watched it all play out in real time. He needed to focus on something else. So as they left the city limits of Tehran, David turned to his passenger, who was sitting silently, his head down in prayer.

“Najjar, I actually have some good news.”

Najjar looked up.

“I was about to tell you this earlier, but then everything started going crazy.”

“What?”

“My team tells me your family wasn’t in the motel room when the police got there.”

Najjar sat up straight. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. We’ve intercepted phone messages from the local police saying the place was empty when they raided it.”

“Thank God,” Najjar said. “Where are they?”

“We don’t know,” David said. “But I told you my people would do everything they can to find them, and they are.”

“Thank you.” Najjar’s face brightened in an instant. “Thank you so much, Mr. Tabrizi. How can I ever repay you?”

“Your information is more than enough.”

“But you’re risking your life to help me, to protect me. I am very grateful.”

“You’re risking your life, too, Najjar.” David kept driving for a few moments. “But you’re welcome,” he added quietly.

Najjar looked out the window, then suddenly turned back to David. “Could I have your phone?” he said. “I just had an idea. I want to try to call my wife.”

“How?”

“She has a mobile phone.”

“She does? You never said that.”

“We thought she’d been captured,” Najjar said. “There was no point. But now…”

David wasn’t authorized to let a foreign national use his Agency phone. But there was a mobile phone plugged into the cigarette lighter right in front of them. “Here, use this one,” he said.

Najjar punched the number and hit Send, and ten seconds later, he was talking to his wife, telling her how much he loved her, asking where she was, and relaying David’s cryptic instructions on how they should get to Karaj and where they should meet.