Gambit

“What did you do your schooling in?” Jackson asked her.

“I did my undergrad work in Tel Aviv in nuclear physics. From there, I got my PhD in nuclear engineering at Texas A & M.”

“Texas? Why Texas?” asked Jackson.

“A & M has a great program and I wanted to see the States. Everything I read made Texas look and feel like Israel so I applied and they accepted me. Outside of Israel, I consider Texas, my second home.”

“That’s cool; I hail from San Angelo. Always nice to have another Texan around.”

III

Dani arrived at Jackson’s hotel at six forty-five the following morning. “Hey, Stonewall, you ready?” she said into her phone.

“All set; be right down. Wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen to twenty minutes.”

“What’s the matter? I thought you Special Forces guys were always ready,” Dani chimed in.

“I’m ready; just need to put my shoes on and I’ll be right there.”

Jackson emerged from the lobby elevator to find Dani waiting for him – and her transformation could not have been more complete: Gone was yesterday’s ponytail and tomboy image and replaced with a Giorgio Armani business suit that seriously out-classed Jackson’s sport coat and tie.

“Ready to go?” She asked him as Jackson walked up to her.

“I’m not sure; just what are we doing today?” Jackson asked, noting Dani’s very professional attire.

“Ah, today’s an office day, so you’re good.”

Jackson noticed Dani’s sense of style extended to her choice of vehicle as well. “Cadillac, huh? Nice car,” Jackson commented admiringly as he got into her car. “A little different from yesterday’s rig?”

“That was a pool car; those things are just too generic for me. I like something with a little more style.”

“Well, it looks like you found it. Bet you don’t see many of these over here, do you?”

“No, you really don’t. I wanted something stylish yet something really sporty. The ATS seemed to fit the bill – I actually had to special order it so I picked up the ATS-V,” Dani replied.

“I bet you did; this is really cool!” Jackson added. “So, what’s on tap for today? Jim didn’t give me any kind of agenda or any idea as to what to expect.”

“Remember that sudden meeting I told you that Bibi scheduled with Tamir, just as you arrived yesterday? Well, it turns out we have a little operation scheduled for tonight.”

“Really? What kind of an ‘operation’? ” Jackson asked.

“Well, Ben’s talking it over with Tamir right now. Even though I’m Ops, I don’t know all of the details on this one yet. Ben will fill us in when we get to the office.”

“So, tell me about Ben. He seems like a real take charge kind of guy. I mean he answered the first two questions that I asked you last night.”

“He is in command of our unit but don’t prejudge him. He’s very good and usually, all business. Until you get to know him, he might come off as a bit of a control-freak. Once he’s had a chance to get to know someone, however, he relaxes quite a bit. Yoni, on the other hand, is much like you saw him last night, quiet and fairly reserved, but don’t let that calm demeanor fool you. We’ve been in a few scrapes with Hezbollah up in Lebanon – there is no one, Ben included, who I’d rather have with me in a fire fight. Yoni is rock solid and seemingly knows the entire battle-scape – wherever that is – like it was his hometown.”

“What are you guys doing in Lebanon? I thought this team’s focus was Iran.”

“Oh, Iran is, and remains, the primary focus of our team. You see, Iran supplies Hezbollah with everything, from ammunition to rockets – and they station several of their Republican Guards in the Beqaa Valley. Every now and then, we get another piece of the puzzle up there.”

“I can see that; just thought a different team would take care of that for you.”

“When it comes to Iran, Ben likes our team to do as much of the work as possible. He wants to make sure nothing gets missed.”

“Yeah, I can appreciate that.”

“So, did you get your Starbucks fix in yet this morning?” Dani asked, changing the subject.

“No, I didn’t. I thought there’d be one in the hotel but couldn’t find anything.”

“Well, Starbucks isn’t in Israel. I got hooked on them when I was at A & M but had to get used to our variety back here when I came home; it’s a lot stronger here. This place here’s a favorite of mine.”

Seeing that Dani pulled into a parking spot, rather than the proverbial drive-thru, he asked Dani, “Ah, what time are we supposed to get in to the office this morning?”

“Ben and Tamir are still working out the details for tonight’s operation. They told me we didn’t need to be in the office all that early, so, since you haven’t been to Israel before, I thought we’d take our time this morning. Find a table and I’ll get the coffee.”

Jackson found a table on the street-side patio and waited for Dani. Once she sat down with their coffee, Jackson simply stated, “So, tell me about Iran’s nuclear ambitions.”

* * *

Tamir told Ben that as soon as Arielle & Stonewall arrived, they were to be brought into his office right away. Two hours after their coffee stop, Ben ushered them into Tamir’s office.

“Stonewall, I believe Arielle mentioned that we have an operation scheduled for tonight. This will be a simple recon mission that will last about a day and a half. Would you be interested in tagging along as an ‘observer’? We’d love to have you along for the ride.”

“I’d love to. Jim didn’t give me much in the way of instructions so, yeah, let’s go.”

“Excellent. While this is a recon mission, we still want to get you checked out. What do you carry for a sidearm?” Tamir asked Stonewall.

“I carry either an H&K VP9 or a Sig P226,” Jackson responded, suddenly piqued by the nature of this “recon” mission.

“Good, we have both. Yoni will take you out to the range and check you out. Ben and Arielle will go over the mission while you’re out with Yoni. Once you get back, we’ll fill you in on all of the details.”

Two hours later, Jackson joined Tamir, Ben, Dani, & Yoni in the conference room where he initially met Ben and Yoni. Ben began the briefing letting Jackson know that they would be flying to Baku, Azerbaijan, that evening and from there they would drive to Tehran.

“We kind of figured you’d be going,” Ben added, as he handed Jackson his false documents. “We’ll have the rest of the gear you’ll need when we get to our destination.”

“I’m not even going to ask you how you put these together so quickly.”

“That’s okay; we wouldn’t tell you anyway,” Ben added with a big grin on his face. “Okay, when we’re done here, Arielle will take you back to the hotel to get some sleep. She’ll pick you up around nine o’clock tonight, grab some dinner and get you to the airfield.”

Jackson knew that every Israeli served in the military in some capacity. However, he had as yet to fully accept the exact capacity in which Dani served. She’d clearly been in the field before; that much was obvious. However, given her position in Mossad, the operations officer of this team, and her education – a full-fledged PhD in nuclear engineering – he fully expected her to be more of a rear echelon-type who would be monitoring events via satellite in some highly secretive operations center. When they arrived at Tel Nof Air Force Base around midnight, though, Jackson was somewhat surprised to see that Dani would be joining them.

“You’re going to?” Jackson asked.

“I’m the operations officer for this unit; I kind of need to go.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I just figured…” Jackson started.

“What? That since I’m a woman, I’m not a full member of the team?” Dani interrupted, with both a bit of an edge but also knowing she had something over on Stonewall.

“It’s just that I’m not used to women serving in a Special Ops unit.”

“Well, this is Israel, not the United States. I can hold my own, I think I’ve demonstrated that. And, besides, on this little excursion, we’ll be traveling as a couple – once we get to Iran, you’ll be my husband.”

“What?!?” Jackson blurted out.

“Ben didn’t tell you that, huh?” Dani said with a bit of a laugh. “Relax, we both speak perfect Farsi and I’ve been over there several times. It’ll be a walk in the park, as you Americans fondly say.”

* * *

Upon landing in Baku, they taxied over to a large hangar at a far corner of the airport completely out of sight from the rest of the terminal. The pilot actually taxied the plane into the hangar and, once inside, the doors of the hangar closed and the pilot shut down the engines. Poking his head out of the cabin door before deplaning, Jackson noticed several things seemingly all at once: the hangar was far larger than it needed to be for this little plane but it also housed four other planes, each presumably Israeli though there were no markings on the planes. As he walked down from the plane, Jackson noticed that each of the planes in the hangar sported large, conformal bulges – clearly electronic warfare aircraft – and quickly suspected that something else was in the works.

“Ah, Dani, what’s going on?” Jackson asked as he got off the plane.

“What do you mean?” Dani quickly responded.

“Dani, you’re Ops; unless I’m mistaken, you’ve got four EW planes parked in here as well as the plane we just flew in on. Is there something else in the works that I’m not aware of?” Jackson asked.

“Nah, we keep these guys here to keep a close eye on Tehran. It’s a lot closer than flying from any of our bases back home, which means they can spend more time in the air over here. Obviously, we have a pretty tight, and secret, agreement with Azerbaijan.” Dani went on, hoping to sound somewhat reassuring.

“Uh huh.…” Jackson replied, not entirely convinced. “We knew you were working with them and had rights to use the air field, in an emergency – or so we thought – but didn’t realize they allowed you to base your EW craft here.”

“Well, we haven’t advertised it but this airfield has come in quite handy. Looks like our ride is here,” Dani added, quickly changing the subject.

Jackson hadn’t noticed the two Toyota SUVs that pulled up behind him while he had been talking with Dani. Both vehicles were registered in Astara, Azerbaijan, so as not to raise any undo suspicion: they would not be in Iran very long and would appear to be nothing more than tourists traveling in Iran for a few days – it was the height of the summer tourist season, after all. The six man team, now broken into two teams – Jackson and Dani in one vehicle and the other four in the second SUV – proceeded to the Astara border crossing, which was the only open crossing as the Azerbaijanis had recently closed the crossings at Bileh Savar and Julfa due to a border incident involving Iranian border guards firing at a farmer working the river bank separating the two countries. Ben had planned on hitting the border around 7:00 a.m., ordinarily one of the busiest times of the day at the border crossing as it was; now, the increased border traffic at Astara greatly eased the infiltration as the border guards here, like low level bureaucrats everywhere, were seriously overworked and underpaid.

Getting into their SUV, Jackson looked at Dani and, somewhat facetiously said “Well, ‘Mrs. Jackson’, just how long of a drive do we have?”

“Careful with that, Cowboy,” Dani replied, after all, he was a Texan Dani thought to herself. “Ben wants to hit the border crossing around seven o’clock. It’s what, oh… something like 185 miles and it’s a little after three right now so we should make that as planned. From the border, it’s about another 320 miles or so. As long we’re in Azerbaijan, I can help you with the driving but once we cross the border, you’ll need to do all of the driving as the Iranians don’t like their women driving.”

IV

Back in 2012, when Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu made his UN speech drawing a “red line” in the sand, he also made an estimate as to when the Iranians might be able to produce a nuclear bomb. The Prime Minister had followed up his 2012 UN speech with another one to the same world body just a few days ago and this one specified, in rather great detail, as to when the Iranians would have a nuclear weapon – in just a few months. This was incredibly sooner than anyone in the agency, let alone the world, had expected. Most everyone in the agency – and the world, for that matter – simply assigned this, understandably, to regional paranoia. No other intelligence agency in the world, not MI6, not the DGSE, hell not even the KGB, believed Iran was this far along. However, Jackson thought there might be something to this and the opportunity to join Dani and her team on the recon mission into Iran looked like a golden opportunity to see whether or not the Israelis and his own agency were operating from the same intelligence – or if the Israelis had a source unknown to the CIA.

“You realize what he’s telling us, don’t you?” Grand Ayatollah Khameini said to Said Jalili who sat across from him in his office.

“Of course,” Jalili responded rather smugly, “Netan-yahu’s telling us that he knows how close we are to achieving a nuclear bomb. We have a leak.”

“Not only that, but he’s essentially daring us to find his source. He’s betting everything that we won’t be able to find the leak.”

“Even Netanyahu wouldn’t be so cynical as to burn his own source. He either doesn’t think we’ll find him, or her, or….”

“They are attacking.…” Khameini finished Jalili’s sentence for him. “They are attacking…. They wouldn’t dare; not alone.” Khameini couldn’t believe what he had just said. On the one hand, it made sense, but on the other… they wouldn’t go it alone. They couldn’t; they didn’t have the means. Neither the Saudis nor the Jordanians would allow the Israelis to violate their air space. The Turks, well, they might, Khameini thought to himself, but that would be the longest route for them to take and the Israelis simply did not have the logistical means to do something this ambitious. No, Netanyahu clearly thought they would never find his source. That arrogant pig Khameini thought to himself.

“Said, you need to find our leak. That arrogant pig is daring us to find his source. He doesn’t think we can find him. I want you to put your best people on this. We need to plug this leak immediately. We have come too far to let it all slip away at this point.”

“I’ll find the leak and I know just who should handle this,” Jalili said. Unlike the Grand Ayatollah, though, Jalili knew that he also needed to get ready for an attack. Khameini could delude himself all he wanted to, but Jalili fully believed an attack would be forthcoming. He’d had plans in place for this for a little while but he never expected he’d have to find a mole. No, that stunned Jalili more than the prospect of an Israeli attack. He knew he could handle – and survive – any attack the Israeli’s threw at him. However, the prospect of a mole, a spy, infuriated him to no end – and since he had no idea where to look, he had no idea the damage this spy could inflict.

* * *

Dani and Stonewall followed Ben and the rest of the team in the lead car. Once the team crossed the border in to Iran, he noticed a particular change in Dani that he had usually only seen in his Special Forces teams – it was not one of fear but more of recognition, and acceptance, of their very real danger. They knew they were on a dangerous mission but they also knew their experience and training made them more than ready for anything they might encounter. For his part, Jackson had no idea as to what the nature of this “recon” mission was. He’d conducted all kinds of recon missions with the Special Forces but something about this one just seemed different. He’d been a part of teams that had been hastily organized where no one knew more than half the team, so being new to this team did not faze him. He knew that as the chief of operations, Dani knew their mission. However, it was her inherent contradictions that really intrigued him: this relatively tall and attractive woman, who defined Class and Style, also served as one of the toughest commandos in the IDF!?! Women were not allowed in any type of Special Forces in the US military; SEALS, Delta, the Rangers, or the Special Forces. Yet, he was sure Dani could qualify for any one of them: She appeared to be incredibly physically fit and she had a distinct air about her that exuded an uncompromising tenacity. Clearly, this was not Dani’s first time in indian country.

“So tell me, just how did you get to be a part of this team? You already mentioned your family ties to General Pardo but this team would appear to rival any of our Special Operations teams. I didn’t realize women could be a part of the Israeli Special Forces.”

“Zivah and I are the first two women who made it into the Sayeret Matkal. You’ll meet Zivah later today. After I finished my doctorate, remember I was still in the IDF, I looked for another challenge, and I found it. I asked Tamir if he could get me into the program, and, reluctantly, he did. Zivah and I were in the same class and I couldn’t have gotten through it without her – that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s been very rewarding: How many women do you know who serve in a Special Forces unit who also have a PhD in nuclear engineering?”

“Ah… you would be the first.”

“Yeah, well as Iran’s progress with its nuclear program became more pronounced, I was a natural fit with Ben’s team. Ben’s been doing this for close to ten years now; I’m on my fourth with the team.”

“I kind of thought you’d been over here before.”

“Yeah, I’ve lost track of the times I’ve been over here. Often enough that we know some of the border guards by name. That being said, we still compartmentalize the nature of each mission – only Ben, Yoni, and myself fully know the nature of most of our missions. Obviously, since I’m Ops, I usually know the nature of each mission but Ben’s in charge – he can change the mission as he sees fit.”

“Just when does Ben plan on telling the rest of us what we’ll be doing?”

“He usually fills everyone in at the last possible moment. We’re all exceptionally well trained and we’ve been working together for the last four years. Zivah and I were the last two to join the team and having two women on the team adds to our cover – the Iranians would never suspect two women would be part of a Sayeret Matkal team, after all, you didn’t,” she said with a smirk that screamed “Gotcha.”

“Yeah, you got me there. So, just what all do you do when you’re not “lockin’ horns with the Iranians?”

“‘Lockin’ horns,’ huh? I see where this is going. I may be Israeli but I’m not that far removed from A & M – see this ring here?” she asked, referencing her Aggie ring, as she held out her right hand ring finger. “I’m still an Aggie.”

“What? Everyone knows there’s only one real school in Texas.”

“I know, and it’s in College Station. I mean, have you ever been to Austin? That’s one of the drabbest and dullest places in Texas; even their school colors reflect the community: a dried up, burnt up orange.”

“Yeah, well at least those of us in Austin knew we were at a university; we didn’t need to name the community after the type of school we were at, just in case we forgot.”

“Touché. Well, to answer your question, I do a lot to stay in shape; I do a lot of jogging and swimming, when I can. I read when I get the chance, a lot of non-fiction, Mideast history for the most part, and I really enjoy playing the piano. The piano is probably my favorite; it’s just so relaxing, I can totally lose myself in it.”

“So, in addition to being a full-fledged PhD in nuclear engineering and a highly trained commando, you’re also a concert pianist?”

“I didn’t say that I’m a concert pianist, just that I really enjoy the piano,” Dani replied with a sly grin. “Though, I am pretty good,” she added.

“I bet you are, and, after knowing you for only a couple of days, you seem to be one that, no matter what you do, you do it to excess. I mean look at it: You received your PhD in nuclear engineering from a fairly prestigious university, you’re in the highly specialized Sayeret Matkal, you drive an exceptionally nice car, your sense of style is incredible; shall I go on?”

“Think you have me pegged pretty good, huh? But doesn’t the old adage say that ‘if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing to excess’? But no, I’m not a concert pianist – that would be my sister; she’s incredible. She studied in New York at Julliard. She’s a couple year’s older than me and has played in some of the finest orchestras in the States and here in Israel. She’s the one who really got me interested in the piano.”

“So, is your whole family a bunch of over achievers?” Jackson asked.

“There’s just the two of us, and my parents, of course. But we are very competitive; we both just hate to lose, at anything. I think we feed off of each other.”

“Yeah, I can believe that. How did everyone feel about you signing up for Sayeret Matkal?”

“My sister thought it was pretty cool; my folks were dead-set against it. My dad, being a former paratrooper, has obviously seen his share of action and he definitely did not want his little girl trying out to be an elite commando but he knew he couldn’t stop me. I’m sure he talked with Tamir ahead of time to try and discourage me, and I did speak with Tamir, but he was very fair with everything. Like I said, that was the toughest thing I’ve ever done. But what about you? It seems that I’m the one doing all the talking.”

“Who, me?” Jackson replied. “There’s nothing special about me.”

“Right. You appear to be rather young for a full bird colonel and, from what I understand, you have, what, three Silver Stars? Then there’s your eye patch, and with one eye, you still managed to requalify for the Special Forces – there’s gotta be a story behind that.”

“Nah, no real story, stuff like that kind of happens when you’re too close to an Iraqi mortar. As for the rest, I guess that’s what you get when people exaggerate about some of the things you’ve done.”

* * *

When Jackson and his fellow team members arrived at the safe house, he was more than a little surprised that Dani walked right in the front door without bothering to unlock the door in some manner or to alert anyone who might have been inside. Dani had been to this house before and took more than a little pleasure in showing Jackson all the “amenities” this house provided – starting with the entrance. Jackson had used safe houses before in his career with the Special Forces, and was rather surprised at the apparent lack of security as the door seemed to be unlocked as Dani had walked right in. Playing off of his amazement, Dani took Stonewall back out front and had him try and open the door, only to find the door completely locked – and very solid. Dani, then, simply opened the door for Jackson to let him back in the house. At this point, Jackson began to realize just how sophisticated this safe house really was.

“Oh, this is good; this is really cool. Is there some sort of facial recognition key that automatically unlocks the door?” Jackson asked.

“Close; there’s a biometric sensor at the door that picks up on both facial recognition and behavioral analytics to function as the ‘key’, ” Dani replied. She could see that Jackson was suitably impressed – and she loved showing off.

For his part, Jackson had used safe houses before, but nothing like this – this “house” was more like a small fortress, complete with an eight foot wall around the perimeter: to all but the most trained eye, each window could stop a 7.62 bullet; he didn’t see any cameras but he knew they were there as well, both inside and out. Dani took him to the basement control room where he realized just how thorough the camera surveillance really was: multiple cameras had every square inch of the property – and its approaches – thoroughly covered, with multiple redundancy; if someone tried to sneak up and disable even half a dozen cameras, there were still more. Dani showed Jackson the “armory” next; in addition to the usual small arms, this arsenal had enough hardware to take out a battalion of tanks and to take down a small squadron of fighters – even an aerial assault could be met with fierce resistance. Jackson had been so taken in by Dani and the “amenities” of the house that he had totally failed to realize that there were three inhabitants of the residence. Ben, and the rest of Jackson’s new Israeli friends, did not fail to, good naturally, remind him of their presence!

“So, Arielle, who’s General Dayan, here?” Zivah asked Dani as she sized up Jackson. Turning to Stonewall, she simply commented, “You don’t work out much, do you?” Jackson had been wearing a loose fitting cotton Oxford, which felt pretty good in the cool morning air up in Baku, but had removed this due to the intense afternoon heat in Tehran. The fitted Under Armour T-shirt he now wore accented his sculpted torso, which Zivah admiringly noticed.

“I usually run about five miles a day and then do a little work in the weight room; I spend more time on the cardio than on the weights.”

“Well, don’t change a thing! It’s working for me; you fill that shirt out in all the right places!” Zivah commented admiringly.

“Dani, he’s a keeper!” she continued.

“Zivah! I can’t believe you!” Dani exclaimed, noticeably blushing. “Stonewall, this is Zivah – and watch out for her. She’s our electronics and comms expert – she has ‘ears’ everywhere! Next, this is Ayal, he’s our explosives expert. Finally, we have Jonah, who pretty much lives here.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Jackson replied.

“I assume there’s a story behind the ‘Stonewall’ name?” Ayal asked.

“There is. Suffice it to say that a colonel I worked with a while back thought something I did reminded him of our Civil War General Thomas ‘Stonewall’ Jackson; my name is Thomas Jackson, so the handle fit.”

Once the complete team, now nine members strong, had been fully introduced to Stonewall, Ben set about explaining the exact nature of their little mission. From the first, Jackson suspected that this little mission they were on had to be something big – and he was not disappointed.

“Recently, Prime Minister Netanyahu spoke at the United Nations and drew a red line advising the world body that Iran was extremely close to achieving a nuclear bomb. What he did not tell the world was that we have a source within the Iranian government that has been leaking highly classified information to us and that, within that speech, was a coded message for our source to get ready to leave Iran as we would be coming to get him – we are that mission,” Ben advised.

“My God; you guys are… Ah!” Jackson exclaimed as he received a powerful elbow in the rib cage. “What was that for?” he asked Dani.

“Just shut up; we’ll discuss this later,” she quietly responded.

“Our source, is none other than Dr. Ali Bagheri Kani, the deputy secretary of Iran’s Supreme National Security Council,” Ben continued. “Bagheri knows we are coming but he does not know exactly when or how we will be picking him up; there is simply no way of getting that information to him. He currently lives in a residence in the resort area of Bashgah-e Savarkri-e, not too far from here in Tehran. The resort is part of the National Botanical Gardens, and there are only two entrances – one on the west and the other on the east side of the park. We know he is home as Jonah and his team here, have had him under surveillance for the past week. The plan to get him out is relatively quite simple: We’ll grab him tonight and head immediately for Astara and the border,” Ben said with a smile. Jackson knew, as did everyone else, that it wouldn’t exactly be that simple.

After Ben’s briefing, Dani took Jackson aside.

“You’re pretty quick,” she told him.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious. You tell the world that the Persians are on the verge of a nuclear weapon, you have four EW aircraft forward deployed and now we’re over here to smuggle out your source before everything hits the fan – you guys are attacking.” A simple statement; no question implied. “Dani, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for it. Some folks in Washington might not be but we’ll have to cross that bridge very soon.”

“Tamir said you were a quick study. You put that together very fast. I don’t need to tell you: don’t let this out, and for that matter, the decision really hasn’t been made. Zivah, Jonah, and Ayal don’t know how soon we might be attacking, though you are correct – if this mission is a success, we’ll probably be attacking as soon as we get back.”

“Dani, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I’ve been around the block a time or two. It wouldn’t surprise me if the raiding party already has their engines warmed up by the time we land back in Tel Aviv.”

* * *

Bagheri, who was Said Jalili’s chief deputy, found himself in a unique position: each member of his family had been killed in service to the Islamic Republic: one son had been killed by an Israeli air strike in the Beqaa Valley in Lebanon helping Hezbollah with some advanced long range missiles; another son had been killed in the US air strike that had also killed Abu Musab al-Zarqawi in Iraq; and, his wife and first born son had been passengers on Iranian Flight 655—something which would have no meaning to any American but had been etched into the psyche of every Iranian since that fateful day in July, 1988, when the USS Vincennes had shot down Iranian Flight 655 in the Persian Gulf, killing all 290 passengers on board. Bagheri thoroughly detested everything about the United States and its arrogance. However, he, perhaps more than anyone else also clearly saw the direction that Iran was heading with its pursuit of nuclear weapons, and he also clearly saw the only possible outcome that could become of such an objective – and he loved his country more than he hated the Americans, which was why he had decided to aid the Israelis in their desire to keep Iran from obtaining a nuclear weapon. The fact that his family had been destroyed by both the Israelis and the Americans put him way beyond reproach – no one would suspect him of helping the hated Zionists and their ally, the Great Satan.