Iranian scientist Dr. Zana Rahimi has been summoned back to the Tabriz centrifuge lab where he works.  His boss and escort, Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps Major Javad Mirzadeh, has long harbored suspicions of Rahimi.  Now, during an unscheduled fuel stop at a remote airfield, Rahimi thinks it may be his last chance to upload the code that will hide his sabotage…

The bathroom door creaked open and the Guardsman came out. Before going in himself, Rahimi took a last glance at the daylight through the hangar bay doors. The fuel truck was near the plane now, the pilots fastening a hose to a wing tank. Javad and the other Guardsman stood back watching, hands in pockets.

Once in the bathroom, Rahimi hurriedly surveyed his options. The door had no lock. The walls were bare, the mirror bolted.  He removed the lid to the toilet tank and looked inside—slimy green porcelain and an old rubber float on a lever.  Rahimi pulled the float free and dried it with a paper towel, then looked through the bundle of tools he’d snagged from the workbench.  He jammed two screwdrivers into the rubber, tested its flexibility, and—quietly—wedged the contraption under the door. He thought the rubber’s friction against the concrete floor would form a reasonable stopper.  It’d better.  It was all he had.

He immediately opened his laptop and went through the sequence to establish a connection into the servers at Tabriz. With a shaking hand, he fumbled through his pocket and removed the USB. He started the upload.  The connection was pitifully slow. He wasn’t sure it would work at all. He sat on the toilet lid and waited.  The connection dropped.  He cursed and did it all over again.

Five minutes on, he knew he was in trouble. The data rate kept falling to zero, risking another drop.  He wondered if he should just leave his laptop behind, letting it upload while he returned to the plane. Perhaps he could stash it somewhere behind the toilet. But the broken connections kept requiring him to reestablish it.

He heard the Guardsman knocking at his door. “The major is looking for us, doctor. Time to go.”

Rahimi asked for more time, but the Guardsman was insistent. The knocking got louder.  

Until it stopped.  Zana thought he’d at least bought himself another minute or two.  That was good.  The upload was flowing now.  He thought it might work.  But then he heard Javad’s voice. 

“Dr. Rahimi, let’s go,” the major said through the door, slapping it twice with an open hand.

Sitting on the toilet lid, laptop balanced on his knees, Rahimi pleaded for another minute.  This time he really meant it.  It was all he needed.

But the IRGC major would have none of it. There was a loud bang. The makeshift doorstopper flew across the floor.  The bathroom door burst open.