Several other guards ran over to him, followed by Alyia Salem, the director of VEVAK, the Iranian Ministry of Intelligence and Security.

Two anonymous telephone calls originating in Tehran had alerted Iranian intelligence of a possible bomb. The callers did not describe the bomb, and only identified the location of three dead men and a mysterious crate. When the police officers went to the site they saw the two dead Iranians and the dead German. When they saw the bomb they immediately notified the intelligence services and confirmed the anonymous reports.

Salem’s investigators also learned that the forklift operator had died of a heart attack in his sleep. They incorporated this piece of information into their case file. When Salem reviewed the entire file, his instincts were aroused. Was this merely a coincidence that the forklift operator died, and was he an innocent victim or part of a plot? When the intelligence officers disclosed that there could be a bomb inside, Salem rushed over to the scene himself with his staff in tow.

As he hurried over to where the security guard was standing, Salem saw the crate and two of the three bodies. He was told the other body was outside, where they had found it. The crate had no warehouse markings on it, no inventory control number. The security guards had been instructed to examine every box in the warehouse and record the inventory control numbers. This crate had none.

The wood of the crate was not the normal wood used in shipping. “Take the canvas and paper off the top,” Salem ordered.

Once this was done, the Russian letters stood out like neon lights in a dark room. “Russian!” one of the security guards said.

“Open it. Carefully!” Salem shouted his orders.

Two security guards slowly opened the crate. The blinking red lights of the timer suddenly illuminated the dark area inside the crate. Everyone stood silent, looking at each other in momentary panic, not knowing whether to stand or run.

Salem walked over to the crate and peered inside. As he saw the flashing lights he gently touched the timing mechanism. He backed away cautiously, then turned around.

“Everyone stand clear,” he barked his orders again. Reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his cell phone, he dialed a number. “We have a nuke!” he said. “Repeat. We have a nuke. Send a team over here immediately. According to the digital timer we have about 15 hours.”