Strike Force

…and if improperly accomplished, he would simply just revert to the original plan: go in and kill everyone who dared stand in their way.

The Faqih Sayyed Ruhollah Khomeini Library of Jurisconsult, located just outside the Jamkaran Mosque and next to the Hazrat-e-Ma’sumeh shrine in the city of Qom, was the largest and most modern of the many libraries of Shi’ia Islamic thought and scholarship around the world. Completed two years after the death of the Imam Khomeini by tens of thousands of volunteers from all over the world, and intended at first to be Khomeini’s final burial place, the library was considered the home of the concept developed by Khomeini of velayat-e faqih, or “guardianship of the Islamic jurists,” in which all law, jurisprudence, and governance should be controlled and carefully supervised by clerics, not the people, scholars, lawyers, royalty, the wealthy, or any elected representatives.

Without question, velayat-e faqih was the root of all evil in Iran. All law in Iran under the mullahs was based on their interpretation of the Koran, a centuries-old book that was as much fable and mysticism as it was a guide on how to conduct one’s life as set forth by God. Getting around the law was simple: just get a more favorable interpretation. Whatever Iran’s parliament, the Majlis voted for could be overturned or changed in a heartbeat by the whim of the faqih, the Imam Mostafa Shīrāzemi, through the authority of the Council of Guardians, and there was no recourse. Shīrāzemi — his real name was Kazemi, but as was the custom after being chosen as an ayatollah, he adopted the name of the city of his birth — was a former commander of the Pasdaran and a close political adviser to the previous faqih before assuming the role of the Supreme Leader of Iran, and he knew how to manipulate the system. He appointed six of the twelve members of the Council of Guardians and had approval authority over the other six members chosen by the members of the High Judicial Council, who themselves had been appointed to their positions by the faqih.

In other words: the system was infested with vermin; the vermin had to be eradicated, and the nest incinerated — and this place was most definitely the nest.

Dressed in uniforms as the Pasdarans, Buzhazi’s forces situated themselves near three of the library’s entrances. They were careful not to deploy any forces on the west side of the library — that side faced the holy shrine of Hazrat-e-Ma’sumeh, Shi’ite Islam’s second holiest shrine, about a hundred meters away. What they were about to do would certainly inflame a lot of religious passions already — there was no use in angering the faithful even more by desecrating one of their holy places, even if it was by accident.

Buzhazi had a plan ready to break down the large concrete and steel doors to the library, but that wasn’t necessary — a guard waved him over when he noticed them assembling outside. Buzhazi ordered his men to drive their vehicles right up to the gates as if they were deploying to protect the entrances — and when they did so, the guards inside, young Pasdaran troopers fresh out of school, admitted them immediately. “Status of your security detail, Specialist?” Buzhazi asked as he stepped inside the heavy door, casually looking around.

“My God, sir, where have you been?” the young enlisted trooper asked. “We have not been relieved since our security regiments departed.”

“Is that any reason to abandon safety protocols, Specialist?” Buzhazi asked. “Get your finger off that trigger. Never place your finger inside that trigger guard unless you’re prepared to kill someone.” He grasped the young trooper’s rifle and flicked the safety switch on. “Same for the safety.”

“Sorry, sir. Sorry.”

“Pay attention from now on, soldier. Where is your platoon leader?”

“Gone, sir.”

“To whom do you make your post reports?”

“Uh…we inform the imams when they ask, sir,” the trooper said. “We weren’t told who else to report to.”

Buzhazi shook his head. “That’s fine, Specialist. You and your comrades will report to my company commander from now on. I relieve you. Report over there right now and do as you’re told.” The trooper started to hurry off toward the vehicles arrayed outside the gate, then stopped, returned to his spot, rendered a salute, and managed to wait until it was returned before hurrying off again. Within moments the entire security detail on this gate, just a dozen men, had left their post and were in custody; within minutes, the other two entrances were secure as well. The prisoners would be given a choice: swear allegiance to Buzhazi and join his insurgency, or die. Not one moment of hesitation would be tolerated.