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Ashani checked the door and then in a quiet voice croaked out the words, “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. He says it will put oil prices through the roof, which will give the treasury a much needed boost, but mostly he says it will cement the fact that the Americans are waging war against us.”
Ashani could feel his blood rising. He thought of Amatullah’s stupid plan to kidnap the British sailors and marines the previous spring. It had been his crazy idea to create an incident after several high-ranking Iranian officials had defected to the West. While Amatullah thought the entire thing played very well with his countrymen, he had never realized the damage it had done to them internationally. It showed him to be a thug and a man who lied with great ease. The British, with the aid of the Americans, had presented rock-solid satellite images that the sailors had been plucked from Iraqi water, not Iranian. Amatullah had declared the evidence fabricated and was willing to put his fate in the hands of the UN Security Council, but Ayatollah Najar intervened at the last minute and convinced Amatullah to release the hostages. The propagandist then had the gall to hold a staged ceremony where he a
Ashani knew he had to get hold of Najar and try to talk some sense into someone before these reprisals began. Glancing toward the door, he whispered to Jalali, “You need to get me out of here.”
22
CIA Director Ke
Secretary of State Wicka, fortunately, did not hold those opinions. Liberal in her politics, she was a woman who had traveled the world and understood both human nature and the complexities of individual cultures. A widow and the mother of five boys and a girl, she had been hammering the president on sexism since the day she had been confirmed. Not sexism in his administration or even the country. Wicka held the belief that the long-term key to wi
The vehicle came to an unexpected stop a mile from Foggy Bottom. She was about to ask her driver what was going on when she saw the intersection was blocked by another motorcade of sedans and SUVs. With Iran making noise and threatening reprisals, the Department of Homeland Security had recommended that personal protection details for all key administration figures be stepped up. Ke
Just as the intersection cleared, Ke
“I have Mitch on the line.” It was the voice of one of Ke
“Patch him through, please.”
There was clicking noise and then Rapp came on. “Irene?”
“Yes.”
“I just finished the first leg of my journey.”
“Are you back in the air?”
“I wouldn’t be talking to you if I was still on the ground.”
“How did it go?”
“The guy is unbelievable. He actually tried to blame it on us at one point.”
Ke
“He tried to say it was our planes that were seen in the air.”
“How did you respond?”
“I told him there weren’t any planes in the air. Theirs or ours. That was when I saw the chink in that ugly mug of his. He started to get real evasive and nervous. Especially when I laid out for him exactly how the place had been destroyed.”
“How did he react?”
“Worried…he wanted to know who I had talked to.”
“And?”
“I told him I had a source inside his government.”
Ke
“Damn right. That prick. He’s got more spies in America than practically every other country combined, and what’d we give them last year? Five billion dollars in aid?”
“Roughly.” The motorcade was now pulling up to the first checkpoint a block away from the State Department. The CIA security people had called ahead, so the crash gate was down and they were being waved through. “You do know he’s going to launch an investigation to find out who talked to you?”
“Good. It might keep him out of my hair for a while. I told him to stay silent and tell his government to keep denying.”
“You didn’t tell him what you were up to, did you?”
“No.”
“Good.” The motorcade breezed through the checkpoint and pulled up in front of the main entrance. “Anything else?”
“No. Our guy in Mosul has everything set up. I’ll call you as soon as I finish the meeting.”
“Thanks.” Ke
Wicka was waiting for Ke
The secretary of state looked over the top of a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of her nose. Her short frosted hair was cut in layers. She pushed her chair back and stood.
“Thank you for coming, Irene.”
“My pleasure, Su
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No thank you. I’m fine.”
Wicka walked over to a small wet bar and grabbed two coffee mugs. She set them down and pulled a bottle of He
“You look like you could use some.” Wicka handed Ke