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open cubicle featuring an orange radiation suit and wrist monitor hanging from a hook inside.
    “Standard procedure,” the minister explained. “The lightest weight suit manufactured anywhere. You slip it on right over your clothes,” he continued, starting to do just that himself.
    McCracken followed in step. Modern, sophisticated nuclear plants like this were hardly prone to leaks, so the donning of such protective material could only mean Hosseini meant what he said about assembling a complete picture of one of the world’s most secret facilities.
    “Come,” the minister beckoned, “let us witness the means by which we will destroy Israel.”

CHAPTER 5
    Natanz, Iran: The present
    “We will begin shooting here,” said Minister Hosseini, after they exited the changing room, the trio of Revolutionary Guardsmen having donned the radiation suits and wrist monitors as well.
    “I’d prefer to decide where to begin shooting.”
    “I was told you were impetuous, even arrogant.”
    “I take my job seriously, Minister.”
    “So do I. And I have very specific instructions from the president, which both of us must follow. His orders are to capture the scope of the facility while stressing its magnificent self-contained nature. I stress that nothing will be off-limits to make sure the historical record you are fashioning is complete. You are about to ensure that history will know things very, very few men have seen before. Does that satisfy you?”
    “I haven’t decided yet. Would you mind?” McCracken asked Hosseini, extending portable lights toward the Republican Guardsmen.
    The minister nodded and the soldiers shifted their weapons in order to hold the lights as the filmmaker instructed. McCracken made sure they were connected to one of the portable batteries and then hoisted the Canon XL-10 up to his shoulder. It belonged to the real Najjar and was known to be his camera of choice, enabling McCracken to practice with an identical model back home to master at least the rudimentary mechanics. An Israeli documentary filmmaker had spent hours teaching him to hold, wield, and steady the Canon just as a professional would, specifically Najjar.
    “You assured me I’d have unlimited access to the facility.”
    “And you will,” said Hosseini, “only under my guidance and supervision. Any room or section we avoid is the result of that area’s contents not bearing the merit to help tell the story your film record will.”
    “I don’t like being told not to use any sound or narration.”
    “The narration will be added later, along with interviews with the esteemed scientists and officials most responsible for bringing this project to fruition, all for the historical record.”
    McCracken pretended to be busy checking his camera to spare himself a response.
    “Follow me,” Hosseini directed, “and we will begin.” The minister stopped and looked back at him. “You don’t mind following me, do you?”
    “So long as we can get started,” said McCracken.
    They entered the VIP elevator. The video tour of the facility would commence just down the hall in a large but sprawling security area featuring a bank of six elevators, on which workers arrived for their shifts that ran nonstop throughout the week. Since the facility was perpetually under some form of construction, Hosseini explained that the workers were divided between the builders and the technicians actually responsible for getting Natanz on line and for supervising the complex enrichment process.
    “For security reasons,” Hosseini elaborated, “we can’t have our workers commuting in a traditional fashion. So their living quarters rest in cleverly disguised areas in the facility above us. They need only walk down a single hallway and press a button to arrive here. For reasons of privacy, those living quarters will not be included in the historical record you are making. But all you see before you here will be.”
    That included a bevy of armed