Chapter 25
Pasdaran meant “guardian” in Farsi, and the Ghost knew it was the nickname for the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Force. If
Sardar was being truthful—and the Ghost had no reason to believe he wasn’t—he could only be a member of the Quds Force element
that executed external operations. The assassins like him.
Sardar said, “Does that alter your commitment to continue?”
The Ghost said, “I’m not sure what that even means. What do you want from me?”
Sardar smiled and said, “At the hotel, at the hotel.”
They rode in silence, the jungle giving way to specks of civilization. A compound here, a gas station there, until they were
entering the lights of a town. They passed what looked like a garish casino set back from the road, and the Ghost was surprised
when Sardar entered a large drive leading to it.
He said, “Here?”
“Yes. No more need for the subterfuge of meeting a relative, and this is close to the border.”
The Ghost didn’t ask why that was important. They parked next to the casino and walked to the north side, Sardar saying, “The
hotel’s only on this end, but we won’t go in the front. I’ve already rented three rooms, and I don’t want you to have to check
in with your passport.”
The Ghost nodded. They walked past the ornate entrance, and through the double doors he could see a lobby gilded with brass fittings, a restaurant in the back.
They continued down a stone path, jungle foliage lining the property from the highway out front.
Sardar led him to a side door, then down the hall to an elevator.
Two minutes later, they were inside a room on the second floor.
Sardar put the Ghost’s suitcase on the bed and said, “Would you like some food or drink after your trip?”
“I’m okay. I greatly appreciate what the Pasdaran has done for me, but what I’d like is for you to tell me why.”
Sardar said, “Have a seat.”
The Ghost took a chair and waited.
Sardar said, “We have an opportunity to execute a tremendous blow against both the Great Satan and the Little Satan. You asked
if I was Hezbollah. I’m not, but they are here. They want to strike a blow for what the Zionist state has done to them, but they are naturally skittish. The Zionists
have proven to have a long reach. You’ve been gone, and the world has changed.”
The Ghost said, “I had access to the news while in prison. I know about the beepers. I know about Nasrallah.”
Sardar nodded, saying, “Good, then you’ll understand that they are reluctant to accept Pasdaran help without proving we’re
capable of executing and not exposing them in the process.”
The Ghost said, “Who is conducting this blow, them or you?”
“It’s not ‘them’ or ‘you.’ We’re in this together, they just are very cautious, which is where you come in. They know your
name from the past. They believe in you, but don’t believe you really exist. They fear a trick.”
Now a little concerned himself, the Ghost said, “They don’t believe you are Pasdaran? Why?”
Sardar smiled and said, “I see you now have doubts as well, but don’t worry. At least you can judge from meeting me. After
all, you contacted me, not the other way around like I did with them. Like you, it was only over our networks, and after the pager fiasco, they
aren’t completely sure I’m not a wraith wrapped in a blue and white flag from Mossad. Unlike you, we’ve never physically met.”
The Ghost remained silent, and Sardar continued, saying, “We now live in a paranoid world, but think about it: The Zionists wouldn’t break you out of a United States prison, killing an American policeman, just to capture Hezbollah foot soldiers living in Brazil.”
What Sardar said was true, causing the Ghost to relax, then his last words sank in.
The Ghost said, “Brazil?”
“Yes. There is a sizable contingent of the faithful just across the border, in Foz do Iguacu. We need to get them here, to
Argentina. That part is easy. The hard part is convincing them, which is where you come in.”
Sardar clapped the Ghost on the arm and said, “I must admit, when I saw you at the airport, I was the one wondering if I’d been tricked. You certainly don’t look like your legend, but they believe in you from stories
in their youth. They want to meet you first, before they commit. They will ask you questions only you can answer. I don’t
even know what those will be, but once you convince them, I can move forward.”
The Ghost nodded, thinking. He said, “This meeting is near here?”
“Yes. A tourist site called Iguazú Falls. It’s a good choice, as it prevents the Zionists from doing anything, if we were
working with them. You go in, do the meeting, then come out. I’ll give you instructions to pass to them, and the mission goes
from there.”
The Ghost said, “Sounds easy enough, but what about my security?”
“Your security will be your past life. They bear you no ill will and want to believe in the mission. Like I said, it’s a good
site they’ve chosen, so even if they had bad intentions, they can’t execute it there. I just need you to convince them of
my truthfulness. They fled Beirut after the Zionists began bombing. After the pagers blew up. They have the skill and the
desire. They just need to have their faith reestablished, and that’s where you come in.”
“When is this meeting?”
Sardar stood up, saying, “Tomorrow, so get some rest. We’ll talk more at breakfast.”
Sardar moved to the door and the Ghost said, “Wait.”
Sardar turned back and the Ghost said, “You did all of this simply to get them to join you? Because they asked for me? You hired American criminals, killed American police, transported me across the border to Mexico and flew me here because they asked for me?”
Sardar said, “No, no, of course not. That aspect came up while you were traveling, when I was talking to them over the net.
It was a happy coincidence of breaking you out.”
“Then why?”
Sardar opened the door and said, “Tomorrow. You’ve heard enough for tonight.”
The Ghost stood up and said, “No. What else do you want me to do?”
Sardar studied him for a moment, then said, “I want you to do what you do best. I want you to kill the prime minister of Israel.”