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“So let me get this straight,” David said. “You’re not a Muslim anymore?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What are you, then?”

“I am a follower of Jesus.”

“You don’t believe that Muhammad is a prophet?”

“No.”

“You don’t believe the Twelfth Imam is the messiah?”

“No.”

“How long ago did this happen?” David asked, dumbfounded.

“About eighteen months ago.”

“Did you tell your wife?”

“I was going to,” Birjandi said.

“What happened?”

“When we learned she had cancer, I started praying for her eyes to be opened to the truth about Jesus. I didn’t pray five times a day for her. I prayed twenty-five times a day for her. And one day, as she slept, she dreamed of Jesus. He said, ‘Souri, do not let your heart be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way where I am going.’ And in her dream, Souri said to Him, ‘Lord, I don’t know where You are going, so how can I know the way?’ And Jesus said to her, ‘I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.’

“Then she woke up, and right there and then, Souri realized that what she had been taught all her life, even by me, was wrong. She wasn’t angry with Islam. She wasn’t angry with me. She just knew in that moment that Jesus was the One True God, and she renounced Islam and became a follower of Jesus.”

“How did you find out?” David asked.

“She told me right away,” Birjandi said.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“She wasn’t scared?”

“She was scared,” Birjandi said. “But she told me that she loved me too much not to tell me the truth.”

“You must have been very happy,” David said.

“Actually,” Birjandi said, “I felt ashamed.”

“Why?”

“Because up to that moment, I had been too much of a coward to tell my own beloved wife that Jesus had saved me. When she told me her story, I broke down and cried, asking her to forgive me for not saying anything sooner. I could have lost her. She could have died and gone to hell, and it would have been my fault for not telling her the good news of Christ’s love. But you know what?”

“What?” David asked.

“Souri forgave me immediately,” Birjandi said. “It has taken me a long time to forgive myself, but my Souri forgave me immediately. That’s the kind of woman she was.”

There was another long pause while David tried to absorb all of this and make sense of it. “So to be clear, you don’t believe the Twelfth Imam is real?” he finally asked.

“Oh no; he’s real, all right. He’s just not from God. He’s from Satan.”

“But you believe he exists?” David asked.

“Of course,” Birjandi said. “He’s here now. He was right here in Hamadan. Haven’t you heard the news?”

“I’ve heard the rumors, but I—”

“They’re not rumors, son. He’s really here, and he’s doing miracles to attract attention and a following. But as Jesus said—and you read it yourself just now—they are signs and wonders designed to deceive people, not to save people. Which brings us to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Birjandi said. “You see, a week ago, the Lord told me you would be coming to see me.”

“A week ago?”

“Yes. He told me all about you, and he instructed me to tell you things I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Things about Iran’s nuclear weapons.”

David could hardly breathe. He had come to Birjandi expecting to be taught about Shia eschatology and the Twelfth Imam. Instead he had gotten a crazy story about Jesus. And now the old man was about to tell him about Iran’s nuclear program? None of it seemed possible. Yet Birjandi continued to speak.

“Hosseini and Darazi built nine nuclear warheads. One was just tested. That’s what caused the earthquake. There are eight left. And they are large bombs. Each one of them could destroy Tel Aviv, New York, Washington, Los Angeles, London, you name it. But Iran doesn’t yet know how to attach them to a long-range delivery system, so they cannot fire ballistic missiles with nuclear warheads on them. Not yet. When they use them, they will have to transport them by ship or truck and detonate them on site or by remote control.”

David was trembling. In his head, he was still a skeptic. But in his heart, he believed it all. “How do you know this?”

“Hosseini told me last week at our monthly lunch together.”

“Why would Hosseini tell you all this?”

“I am his closest personal advisor, an old and trusted friend. He’s excited because he believes what I always taught him. That once we had the ability to wipe out the Jews and Christians, then the Mahdi would come. But he also asked me to pray that Allah would give him wisdom to know how best to proceed. He had not confided this to me before last week, guarding his secrets carefully, as usual.”

“Do you know where these warheads are?” David asked.

“They were all in Hamadan last week, but now they have been dispersed around the country,” Birjandi said. “The last chance to take them all out at once would have been to hit Saddaji’s research center in Hamadan. But no one did. The Israelis took out Saddaji, but that was the wrong move. They needed to hit the research center. Now it’s too late.”

“Do you have proof of all this?” David asked.

“I’m not sure it matters,” Birjandi said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we are in the last days,” the old man said with a sigh. “The arrival of the Twelfth Imam means that an apocalyptic war between Iran, the U.S., and Israel is imminent. I honestly don’t know why God has brought you here, but His ways are not our ways. His thoughts are higher than our thoughts.”

“I want this nuclear program stopped,” David answered. “These men are madmen, and I believe they are hell-bent on killing millions.”

“I don’t know if it can be stopped,” Birjandi said. “You certainly can’t stop all of the wars and devastation and death. They are foretold. The same is true of the rise of false messiahs and false prophets and false teachers. It is written they will come. Now they are here. Such things are determined by God, and nothing can thwart or change His will.”

“But does the Bible say these deceivers win?” David pressed. Clearly Birjandi chose the Bible for his motivation, just as Hosseini and Iran’s leaders chose the Qur’an. He would have to appeal to this internal compass of the old man, no matter how crazy it seemed.

“No,” Birjandi said. “They do great damage, but ultimately they don’t win.”

“Then maybe God will use mere mortals like you and me to stop them,” David said.

“I don’t know that. But I hope so.”

David wasn’t sure what to think about Birjandi’s story of converting to Christianity. Maybe the man was crazy. He clearly hadn’t told this story to the leaders of this country during their monthly meetings. If they were sharing state secrets with him, they must believe he was still loyal to Islam. Birjandi was wise to keep his experiences to himself and try to live out the last few of his years in peace.

David didn’t think the man was trying to trick him. Maybe Birjandi would be a key, game-changing source for him, but he’d have to tread carefully. “I need to verify the things you’ve told me. Is there a trail I can follow, a person who might also want this nuclear program stopped, maybe someone on the inside?”

Birjandi paused. “Before you worry about the world, son, you should be sure your own soul is secure in God. He knit you together in your mother’s womb. He loves you. But you must choose without delay. The forces of evil are gathering, rising, and believe me, David, you will never be able to stand against the tempest unless you have been forgiven, washed by the blood of Christ, filled with His Holy Spirit, and suited up in His full and mighty armor.”

That wasn’t what David wanted to hear. “I appreciate that very much, Dr. Birjandi,” he replied. “But I’m not worried about myself.”

“You should be.”

“What about the souls of the innocent? What about the millions of people who will die if the Twelfth Imam orders Iran to detonate nuclear weapons in my country or in Israel?”

“You need to think of yourself first.”

“That’s selfish.”

“No, that’s wisdom,” Birjandi said. “You don’t know what you’re going up against. Satan is not to be taken lightly. That’s who is giving power to the Twelfth Imam—Lucifer himself. You can’t possibly thwart him on your own.”

“I’m not on my own,” David said. “I am an agent of the United States of America. We are the wealthiest and most powerful nation on the face of the planet—in the history of mankind. If anyone can stop the Twelfth Imam—if there is anyone who can stop Iran—it’s the United States. We have this country surrounded. We’ve got forces in Iraq and the Gulf states. We’re in Afghanistan. We’re in Turkey. We’ve got submarines and aircraft carriers parked off your coastlines. We’ve got Predator drones and spy satellites hovering overhead. But we need proof. We need specific targets. And we need them now.”

Several minutes went by. Birjandi said nothing. David looked at his watch.

“Najjar Malik,” Birjandi finally said.

“Who is that?”

“He lives in Hamadan. He’s the son-in-law of Saddaji and the next in line to lead the nuclear program. I’m told that he and his young family have disappeared since Saddaji’s murder and that there are many people looking for him.”

“Would he talk to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where can I find him?”

“I don’t know that either. But let me be clear, David—you’d better find him before the Mahdi does.”