Zain was at a complete loss about what had just happened. He could barely make sense of the four strange women appearing out of nowhere, taking out his would-be assassins and saving his life. He was all alone now, with no armor but his mind and will, both of which were waning in his exhaustion in the early morning hours.
As he waited for the next train, a bystander fixed Zain with a steely gaze. But then a softer and slightly sad expression came over his face, but he didn’t look likely to reach out a hand of friendship. Zain did not know what the man was trying to say to him in silence, but he got a feeling he could not ignore. Time and again, Zain had this feeling that he was living on borrowed time, but it did not matter. Aylin and life had passed by him, and those he held dear—Mehdi, Kamikazed —were moving further away.
Ultimately, the man’s expression made Zain get onto the same train as him. It was mostly empty. Zain reflected that at times like this, no matter how powerful his friends may be, he was ultimately all alone. He also understood that it was not a coincidence that the constant feeling of obstacles to his plans was repeatedly occurring in places he was about to enter or had just left. But now, Zain thought to himself that he was a legitimate target. But simply feeling he was being followed did not trace who was following him. Maybe the assassins did not have the authority to decide whether to kill him. Maybe, he was not ripe enough. Perhaps, the time would come when the nuclear deal is accepted. That is probably when the assassins would strike, he thought. Sensing this tension, Zain decided to take more direct action.
╔ ——————————————— ╗
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
╚ ——————————————— ╝
It was 11 am and Zain was nowhere to be found. Salima blamed herself for listening to him; she spoke into the intercom,
“Is he back?”
One of the guards answered,
“Still no sign of him, Ma’am.”
Salima thought to herself to wait for an hour, and if she didn’t see him, she would signal the alarm.
“I want everybody on guard.”
Salima pulled the com out of her ears in anger.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said one of her staff.
“Ma’am, ma’am…” she heard faintly in the earpiece she was holding. Salima plugged the device back into her ears.
“Yes, talk to me,” Salima said anxiously.
“The Ambassador is walking into the complex now,” the guard reported.
“Walking?” she asked.
“Yes, Ma’am, walking.”
“Is he injured?”
“No signs from here, Ma’am.”
Salima rushed out of the office hot on her heels and met Zain at the gate.
“Sir, with all due respect, you shouldn’t be leaving the premises without a security detail.” Salima’s face was red.
“You don’t need to tell me that.” Zain looked jaded.
“Your whereabouts were unknown for six hours,” Salima nearly shouted as she walked behind him.
“Is this necessary?” Zain asked as he realized he was locked out of the corridor to his bedroom.
“It rained last night. We were worried after the stunt you pulled yesterday, I think it’s fair.”
Salima wore a glum look like the sky. Zain’s frustration was reflected on his face.
“Call Ferdash and tell him to come see me, and just leave me alone and don’t show up on the weekend.”
Salima looked at her staff as if Zain was speaking a foreign language, but he didn’t care.
“If you only followed protocol, Sir, you would not be hearing my tone like this,” Salima said.
“Look, I’m no mood for this,” Zain, exhausted, didn’t say anything next.
“We need to beef up security for you this weekend, Sir, and I can’t just leave you like that. You are my responsibility!” she said.
Zain stopped. He could not take it anymore. He looked at Salima.
“For once, make me not your responsibility! I know your real intentions, Salima. You are handling me because of the Generals and because of President Yazid! So don’t speak to me like you have my back!” Zain said in anger.
Salima and her staff were shocked by Zain’s response. Never did they hear the Ambassador speak to them like this. They were both angry, insulted, and offended.
Zain walked into his study and found a silver-colored envelope with the initials “G.H.” on and a label designating it as confidential. He poured a glass of 2011 Petrus Pomerol, hoping it would provide some much-needed warmth after the night he’d had. It didn’t, so he opted to take a shower instead. As the warm water ran over his body, his mind drifted to another time and place.
Zain came down the stairs to find Aylin working on his office desk. He went to the kitchen and looked at the oven's temperature and checked on the cooker. For days, she had been relentlessly studying. She looked drained as she was preparing for her entrance exams. Zain wanted to have a meal together but knew of Aylin's stress, so he made something quick to have alone. He poured a cup of coffee for her and then went to his room to get ready for his office. Some minutes later, as Zain was putting on his shoes, Aylin walked to the bedroom. She glanced at the clock on the wall, then dropped her shirt on the floor, entered the shower, and slipped into the warm water, leaving the door open for Zain to enter. Struggling out of his boots and gear, Zain joined her and kissed the crook of her neck.
“I promise, this is the last time,” she said, laughing.
A hard knock on the door jolted Zain from his memories. He stopped the shower and found a towel to dry himself. He put on his robe and looked to see what it was.
“You wanted to see me?” It was Ferdash.
“Wait for me at my study. I need to talk to you about a few things. And get Mazaar but not Berzad. Nothing personal. I just need the two of you. And Ferdash? Bring me the plans from Desk 84 and 85.”
Desk 84 was a covert operation to gather evidence to bring a criminal case against Ambassador Jack Evans. A few updates had taken place, but immediate action had not been taken. Desk 85, a high-level covert operation to take out Ambassador Shahaan Bagratuni. Ferdash nodded and closed the door.
Zain took a deep breath, and as he looked around his room, he couldn’t help himself but realize that though the luxurious space was grandiose, it was a painful reminder of the hollow disorder of his life. He only realized the toll of emotions he was experiencing, sadness underwritten with anger. He could not live his life like this. Always looking to the past, feeling insurmountable pains, and then using the present to justify them. It was a terrible cycle that built up inside of him over the past decades. It had to stop now, this feeling that he could not have a life with the one woman he loved most. It was a cry of his conscious to stop and restart and persist.
He dressed as he thought about how he always wanted to win his professional wars, but as he did so, he lost more than he won. He had become accustomed to ignoring the losses and only focusing on the wins due to the deeply rooted memories from his past.
Zain promised himself he would not volunteer himself for war. His time as Ambassador had been great, but he would not prolong his term when it is time to end. He would return to private life, do what he did best, and go back to being the CEO of his hedge fund. It did not matter whether he felt hostage to his present circumstances; he had to reverse course to take ownership and do what he thought would lead to completing his goals. He had a few ideas of things he needed to do, but he needed to execute them as soon as possible.
Zain entered the Mesopotamia Room. Ferdash and Mazaar were ready and present. One of them took out a large map of Europe and Asia and displayed it at the dining table. The particular scope of the map was between 38.9637° N, 35.2433° E and 30.3753° N, 69.3451° E and displayed electrical grid lines, gas and oil pipelines, and the approximate activity of ships with a few obsolete stations.
“Who’s our point man for General Kemal at De
sk 84?” Zain asked.
“Mazaar will take care of that.”
“And Desk 85?”
“That will also be Mazaar.”
“Can you handle both in one go?” Zain asked.
“Yes, Sir. Have faith in me.”
Regarding Desk 84, as Ferdash explained, the Andaman Gas pipeline and the planning of the operation would take five days and would be executed in two weeks. In total, only five agents would be involved on the ground—but no one within Zain’s security. During execution, Mazaar would watch from a secret bunker as the operation begins and ends, but he will have the option to end it if he suspects anything could go wrong. Ferdash went on to say that his men had already gathered aerial footage of much of the information they needed, concentrating on weather patterns and even insurance documents to make absolutely sure that no such payout comes from external sources soon after the installation’s destruction. Displaying copies of images he had gathered, Ferdash explained that their key scope was to target only the power generator of the pipeline, thereby halting production for a minimum of six months and preventing a pipeline spillage into the Indian Ocean.
“What part of the power generator are you targeting?”
“We’ll be burning the internal fiber-optic cables,”
Ferdash answered with confidence and went on to say that destruction of optical metro backbone access networks was also included, but only if his operatives had more time.
“What is your success indicator?” Zain asked.
“98%,” Ferdash said.
“Do you agree, Mazaar?”
Mazaar looked to Ferdash and was silent for a moment.
“It is high, but I am confident we can do it.”
Sensing his hesitancy, Zain doubled the planning from five to ten days and increased the implementation of the operation from two to four weeks.
“I want this done as cleanly as possible,” he said,
“and I want General Kemal’s staff involved. Make sure he gets the briefs directly from you, Mazaar.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Mazaar.
Zain rubbed his eyes with his palm. Ferdash and Mazaar sensed his level of stress.
“What have you got for me on Desk 85?”
Ferdash presented a list of activities related to Ambassador Shahaan Bagratuni and his office, ranging from attending foreign cultural functions to meeting delegates of various organizations. As Zain watched the string of videos, Ferdash also showed how many of these videos could be manipulated to show something other than reality. He then proposed a two-part plan. The first part was to show false images and videos of Bagratuni attempting to commit suicide by throwing himself under a Paris metro train. Then, his team would manipulate videos from his speeches that would look like psychiatric sessions, indicating that he struggled to cope with the stresses of his decades-long battle with schizophrenia. To make this story more formidable, Ferdash would solicit former members of Bagratuni’s staff and even pay them to lie and testify his insanity for decades.
Ferdash also proposed a separate plan to kidnap Bagratuni and deprive him of medication for his low blood pressure and diabetes, equivalent to a form of torture. He would be housed at an undisclosed location far away from the continent. With a campaign to discredit him through videos and narratives in the media and his absence, Bagratuni’s group of suppliers and vendors would stop doing business with him, at least in the short-term, and that would provide enough time to negotiate with the government he represents to replace him with someone of lesser stature.
“Is there any way to connect him to the Andaman Gas Pipeline episode?” Zain asked.
Ferdash and Mazaar looked at each other.
“If we do, there will be a delay,” said Mazaar.
“For how long?” Zain asked.
“Depends,” replied Ferdash.
Zain wanted Bagratuni connected to the Andaman Gas Pipeline explosion but did not know how to do it. But Ferdash did as he explained his contract agents could move into Rue Viète, the commercial district, disable and raid Bagratuni’s electronic server room in less than four hours. But the planning, execution, and extraction of information could take as long as six weeks. Ferdash’s agents had done a similar raid undetected.
Ferdash’s men already knew and suspected Bagratuni was against Zain’s nuclear deal and provided an incentivized joint trade and favorable terms for the Republique Prime Minister to move away from the whole agreement. The whole thing was even more infuriating because Bagratuni himself was a key member in drafting a similar agreement on nuclear energy fifteen years back so that his government could resume full civil nuclear cooperation. Ferdash explained that his men are well experienced in penetrating facilities. Still, if a specific kind of information is not targeted, he would be risking his men, agents, and the whole operation.
“We need to forge some kind of information and connect it with Desk 84. What would that be?” Zain asked.
And like always, Ferdash had an instant draft plan.
“I have footage of Bagratuni meeting an arms dealer a few years back. I could have the team that executes the plan wear a similar kind of uniform, record it, and leak it to the press soon after the incident.”
Zain liked the idea but wanted a more polished finish.
“Or we can create a few dummy accounts and have a few monetary transactions going in and out. We could put Bagratuni’s initials and the names of some terror groups on them and give it to our friends in Interpol,” said Mazaar.
Zain thought for a minute.
“Can we do both?” he asked.
Ferdash protested that Desk 84 could not be completed within the time that they had agreed, as the requirements of Desk 85 had changed. He wanted an extra ten weeks and double the manpower. Zain extended it to fifteen weeks but did not accept the doubling of the manpower. Ferdash again protested.
As he had demonstrated, he had inside help, but with the addition of surveillance and indicting two ambassadors was a tall order. It was too much all at once and may force errors.
Mazaar suggested an alternative. Requesting that they should go ahead with the requirements he set forth with Desk 84 in the immediate term with the requirements agreed upon and upon the mission's success, carry on to Desk 85. Ferdash objected, saying that if what was to be planted for one covert operation in another, both would have to be reviewed and postponed so they could be planned together like two adjoined hips.
Zain thought about both what Ferdash and Mazaar proposed, and as he thought, he fretted over whether the timing was right. He worried over the immediate aftermath of their plans. What if some of Ferdash’s hired guns are caught—they will spill everything. And it all could come back to bite Zain. But as Zain thought and gazed at the map, something else sparked his interest.
“Ferdash, what are these arrows?” Zain asked.
Ferdash looked them over.
“One of the teams used these arrows to mark the movements of the refugees.”
Zain looked closer.
“What are these blue spots, and why do they get bigger in certain areas?” he asked.
“They are deaths, some from tidal waves, others from massive storms, boat wrecks, drownings,” said Ferdash in a hollowed tone.
Zain looked at them intensely and thought of the little girl he saw in Calais. Remembering that episode caused him heavy grief to rise within him that he could not shake.
“Mazaar, begin planning for Desk 84. Once General Kemal’s chief of staff approves it, provide me a brief. Ferdash, begin drafting another plan.”
Seeing protests in the eyes of both men beginning to erupt, Zain raised his hand.
“It’s not what you both think. There are a few facts I need to know, and then I can discuss it with you two.”
Zain asked the men if they knew how much it would actually cost in real terms to keep his government afloat as they waited for the Republique government to approve the deal. After scrambling through a few of their files on their tablets, t
he number was an approximate and lean figure of $350 million. When Zain inquired whether that was a conservative number, Mazaar concluded the Prime Minister and his cabinet were inflating their numbers for their benefit but so were the Generals and their intelligence networks.
Zain took out a piece of paper. He wrote down $400 million from Blanchard, another $600 million from Herzl. Minus $10 million for Touati was a maybe. Then he drew a blank. Ferdash and Mazaar didn’t make a sound. Zain walked over to his desk and opened his drawer. What he was looking for was staring at him in his face. He looked at it like he was looking at a ghost.
“Sir?” probed Mazaar.
Zain was thinking and re-thinking, but now he knew how to act. He closed the drawer and went over to the desk by Ferdash and Mazaar. He added $100 million on the sheet of paper, bringing the total to $1.1 billion.
“Ferdash, Mazaar, draft a plan to covertly send $1.1.billion to WTC,” Zain ordered.
Both immediately protested at the idea of sending such a large sum of money from one point to another. It would certainly raise suspicions. Mazaar requested a four-phase process to avoid alarming any regulators, especially Bagratuni’s network. Ferdash was completely beside himself, saying the risk was too high and could jeopardize the lives of WTC’s staff.
“This is not something I am asking your opinion on. I want it done, do it most conveniently and safely,” ordered Zain.
But as the chemistry between the three turned from cooperation to cold, Ferdash realized something. The drawer that Zain had just opened housed his personal belongings. There wasn’t much in them, just a few items of some value, his wallet, his checkbook, and other documents. Ferdash realized that Zain had no confidence in the respective governments to solve the refugee problem. They didn’t care. That $100 million was the last of Zain’s.
“You don’t have to do this,” said Ferdash was moved by Zain’s compassion, and he wept internally.
“What do we say to General Kamel when he finds out that $1.1 billion has been diverted?” asked Ferdash.
The Secrets We Live In: A Novel Page 24