by JC Ryan
Shit, Sally’s going to kill me. Aloud, Luke answered, “I’ll get hold of Sam Lewis. Remember him? He’s now the head of the CIA. Will you talk to him?”
“Only if you are present,” Arsalan twisted the knife.
“Man, you don’t know how much trouble I’m going to be in with my wife,” Luke said, hoping to get off the hook.
“Ah, you have my sympathy. Wives can indeed be difficult. Nevertheless, I must insist.” Arsalan sounded more amused than sympathetic.
Luke took a number where he could reach Arsalan and wasted no time before calling Sam Lewis.
“Sam, Luke. We’ve heard from an old friend. Thought you’d be interested to know he survived the epidemic.” Luke wanted Sam to nibble at the bait before he set the hook.
“Oh?” There’s my nibble.
“Yes. I just got a call from New York. Interestingly, it came to my direct number. I don’t know how he found me.” Tease him a little, so he’ll bite strong.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Luke. Who was it?” Sam’s exasperation with the game was beginning to show. Just one more flick of the line, and Luke would have him.
“He didn’t contact you?” Flick.
“Who didn’t? Stop talking in riddles, man.” Ha, took it, hook, line and sinker.
“Arsalan. Ahmad Ahmadi, remember? Besides me, you’re the only man who knows he was ever CIA,” Luke said, through with the tease. He knew Sam would be interested now.
“You’re kidding! We haven’t heard from him in ten years! He made it through the flu, huh?”
“Seems so,” Luke answered.
“What’s he want?”
“A face-to-face meeting, soonest. Says he has some information our government will want to know. I’ll get on a red-eye as soon as I calm Sally down. She’s about to draw and quarter me.”
Sally, Luke’s wife, had taken more than enough of Luke’s abrupt departures and worrying about his safety. She didn’t want him in the forefront of any more of what she called CIA stuff, especially not dangerous CIA stuff. And, Luke had to admit, all CIA stuff was dangerous.
While Sam made the relatively simple preparations to hop from Washington, DC to New York City the next morning, Luke’s task was more complex, requiring among other things that Sally or someone else drive him to Denver International Airport in the middle of the night. To his dismay, Sally insisted on the honor. He was in for forty-five minutes of hen-pecking on the trip from Boulder. If he didn’t love her so much, he’d consider sneaking away in a taxi instead.
~~~
Before going to Arsalan’s hotel the next morning, Luke met Sam at a restaurant for breakfast to discuss how they’d play it.
“Remind me what we had in mind for this guy, Luke. You recruited him, yes?”
“Yeah. Harvard-educated, comes from a well-placed family in Iran, speaks flawless English. We picked him up and then waited to see what he’d make of himself back home. Figured we’d activate him if and when some crisis came along. This was right after the fall of Saddam Hussein, if you’ll remember. I tried to locate him when this virus crisis started, but he was nowhere to be found. That’s why I never reminded you about him while that crazy leader of theirs was trying to throw nukes at us.”
“Oh, yeah. Got it. Man, I’m slipping.”
“You’ve been just a bit busy, I’d say. So have I.”
“Well, let’s go see him.”
Ahmad greeted Luke and Sam in the sitting room of his New York hotel suite.
“Nice digs, buddy,” Luke remarked. “We always thought you’d make something of yourself. What brings you to New York?”
“I’m here with an urgent message. Our lines of communication are broken, so I had to come in person.”
Luke’s frown of puzzlement cleared as the second half of the explanation registered with him.
“It must be important! What can we do for you?”
“My friend, I contacted you because I believe I can do something for you. Please, may I explain?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“When I returned to my country with your instructions, I did as you suggested. I made myself useful to certain persons in power, and waited for your signal, watching the places where you told me I would see it in good time. After several years, I became known as someone who could get things done, if you understand me.”
Luke and Sam nodded, though Luke wasn’t sure he wanted to imagine what Ahmad was implying.
“I married, had a family. No one could have known that I was an agent for your CIA. This is important.”
“Hey, congratulations! They came through the medical crisis okay, I assume?” Luke said.
“Oh, yes, by the grace of Allah, they are safe and well.”
“Good to hear. Sorry to interrupt; you were saying?”
“When the medical crisis, as you call it, began, I was summoned to the headquarters of the Ayatollah Kazemi, along with others, and placed in quarantine. I am sorry that at that time, it was no longer safe to contact you. We all watched each other; no one could have gotten so much as a note out to his family without the Ayatollah knowing it.”
“Sounds tense,” Sam Lewis interjected.
“Indeed. I was one of the Ayatollah’s most trusted lieutenants, but even I had to be careful what advice I gave. The man has gone quite mad, and those who disagree with him meet unfortunate fates, especially since he has started to believe he is the Twelfth Imam. Those who don’t agree just disappear or lose their heads. Messy business.”
“I’m sure. What can you tell us about this Twelfth Imam business?”
“It is a belief of devout Shias. The Twelfth Imam, a Muslim leader in the ninth century of your Christian era, disappeared from this earth without death. Prophecy has it that he will return in a time of crisis, and that he will destroy the infidels and restore Islam to its rightful place, bringing all into Allah’s fold.”
“And Kazemi thinks he’s that guy?” Lewis asked.
“He believes it with all his heart. It is for this reason that Kazemi has resisted efforts to modernize Iran, and it is why he instructed his followers to reject Western medicine when the crisis began. He is responsible for much unnecessary suffering of my people. As I said, I was unable to warn you of his plans, but he was broadcasting them in any case. I think that nothing was lost by my failure.”
“Perhaps a few minutes, nothing more. Don’t beat yourself up, man, we understand. What now?”
“In return for the information I have brought you, I want your cooperation in convincing your president and other leaders that some of us in Iran want nothing more than peace and the opportunity to rebuild our nation. We will also use our influence to bring other Middle Eastern countries into the fold.”
“What’s your intention, Ahmad? Do you want political leadership in Iran?”
“No indeed! I feel my best efforts are behind the scenes, as you say. Leaders are constrained by the need to please everyone. I can be more efficient by being one of those who must be pleased.” Ahmad flashed white teeth in a predatory smile. “Above all, I wish to be instrumental in achieving peace with Israel. We have thrown the flower of our youth at Israel in hatred for too long. It must stop, if we are to bring about an end to the hardship that our stubbornness has caused us.”
Luke looked at Sam, a dubious expression in his eyes. Sam took the lead with the obvious question.
“How do you propose to bring all this about, Ahmad? Your entire culture has been at war with Israel, in principle if not in fact, for thousands of years. Many have sought to end it, and all of them have failed.”
“Many outsiders have sought to force peace upon us,” answered Ahmad. “Western governments, in fact, have attempted to impose their own cultures and standards upon us. This will never work. We are a proud people, with traditions that predate your country by thousands of years. Only we ourselves, working from inside our culture, will be able to bring this about. Until now, there has never been sufficient motivation.
”
“What are you asking us to do?”
“Back my effort,” Ahmad said. “The only way to bring this to pass is through technological advancement. If my country and the other countries in the Middle East can be brought up to equal technological standards with the West, our people will be more content, and a more content populace is less vulnerable to rabble-rousing. However, we must be clever about it. Technology imposed from outside will meet the same fate as anything else. But if important advances are seen to be ‘discovered’ or ‘developed’ from within the Middle East, it will be better accepted. Do you see?”
“Makes a weird kind of sense. But again, what do you want us to do?”
“Luke, you are in a position to facilitate my plans. What I want is to see Iran become part of the 10th Cycle treaty. Everyone knows that most of the technological advancement that has occurred in the past five years is thanks to the information found there.”
“Wait a minute, buddy,” said Luke. “Even if I could do that, and I’m not saying I can, your Ayatollah has already made his feelings well-known on that score. One minute he says the whole thing belongs to Egypt and has to be given back. The next he’s saying that the US invented the whole story, and that everything coming out of the library is a satanic plot of infidels to enslave Muslims. How are you planning to overcome that?”
“As I said, it must seem to come from within the Middle East. If our best minds can have access to the library as other scientists do, we can feed the advancements slowly into our culture and soon there will be fewer differences between us. Furthermore, the Rossler Foundation has great influence among manufacturers and researchers now. If they would put us in touch with these entities so that we might negotiate with them to bring their factories and laboratories to our lands, it will put our people to work in well-paying jobs and bring them out of poverty. Soon there will be no resistance at all to the improved technology, for our citizens will be able to afford it through their own labor. They will no longer be enslaved by an ideology that urges them to hate others.”
“You’re forgetting that the Ayatollah and others are radically opposed to the kind of change you’re proposing, Ahmad. How will you persuade them?”
“Here is the crux of why I asked you to meet so quickly. There is much dissatisfaction in my country with the way the Ayatollah handled the virus crisis. Some very influential men now question whether much of the mayhem caused by the virus would have happened, if the Ayatollah had not been delusional about his power and violently opposed to what the West tried to do to help. I have a friend who has told me of a secret group of leaders who have decided that they need to rid the country of Kazemi and those who would follow him. He is a dangerous man, intent on the destruction of the US, which you must agree with me will lead to the destruction of the Middle East.”
“They’re going to call for an election?” Luke asked.
“They are going to assassinate the Ayatollah,” Ahmad stated. “Within the next twenty-four hours, which is why you must be prepared. Don’t bother to ask for details, I don’t know them. I know this much only because my lifelong friend, from my schooldays, felt I should know. He believes there may be a reaction that could be dangerous to me while I’m here. I do not know what he thinks may happen, but if I need to know in order to protect myself, then you must need to know as well. I have a deep affection for your President Harper, whose integrity I believe will support my plan for reconstruction of my country. Perhaps his safety is at risk as well.”
Luke examined the dapper Persian closely, trying to discern whether that last sentence had been a threat. He could detect no hidden agenda, however. He turned to Lewis and shrugged.
“All I can do is put a bug in Daniel’s ear. It will be up to him, whether to cooperate with Ahmad or not. After all, people from his country were trying to blow Daniel up just a couple of weeks ago. But I don’t see any downside to an Arab world that is no longer trying to wipe the rest of us out.”
Luke failed to notice the look of distaste that Ahmad quickly suppressed when he said ‘Arab world’. Had he still been an active field agent, Luke might have remembered that Persians, Ahmad among them, were not Arabs. A common religion lumped them together as Middle Eastern, and a closely-shared genetic heritage had made them all vulnerable to the virus, but Persians were as Caucasian as he himself; those whose blood ran pure.
Lewis was more agitated. Why hadn’t Ahmad revealed this information at the beginning of their meeting? There wasn’t a moment to spare. He had to inform the president, like yesterday.
“I’m sorry, Ahmad, Luke, but I need to leave right now. If Kazemi is assassinated, you know it’s going to come home to roost in the White House. It won’t matter who takes credit, Iranian leadership and other Arab countries are going to blame either the Israelis or us, and it won’t matter which. We’re in deep shit.”
“Wait, Sam. When can we meet again?” Luke called to a retreating Lewis.
“Can’t talk now, I’ll be in touch. We’ll set it up when this mess is over and if we have survived it.”
~~~
By the time Sam Lewis was able to catch a commuter hop back to DC, it was nearly lunchtime and the president’s appointments secretary was in no mood to accommodate an emergency request to see him. Lewis arrived in person to demand that the secretary put him through, and Harper happened to hear the commotion.
“What’s going on out there?” he called, just before arriving on the scene himself.
“Mr. President, we have another problem.” Sam’s urgency was manifest; surely the president would take five minutes for him.
“Sam, am I ever going to get to see you when we don’t have another problem? Come with me. Have you had lunch yet?” Despite his first words, Harper was jovial. He and Sam Lewis had been through some rough times together, and he trusted the man to be truthful when it came to the importance of his errand.
“No, sir,” Sam replied. He’d skipped breakfast, too, which thought made his stomach growl in that moment. Harper suppressed a grin.
“Well, you can tell me all about this problem over lunch. We both have to eat, problem or no problem,” he said, clapping Sam on the back.
Lewis composed himself to be patient as he followed Harper down the hall into a private dining room. There he found that Mrs. Harper was waiting for her husband.
“Why, hello, Sam,” she said. “I didn’t know you were joining us. Let me have another place set.” Always gracious, she smiled at Sam in welcome.
“I’m sorry to barge in on you, Mrs. Harper. I have a matter of the utmost urgency to convey to the president, and then I’ll leave you to have your lunch in peace. No need to set a place for me,” Sam said, more than a little embarrassed by the fuss.
“Nonsense, there’s plenty. Please sit down.” Esther Harper busied herself in directing a server to bring another place setting, as her husband pulled out a chair at her right.
Reluctantly, Lewis took a seat on Mrs. Harper’s left, across from the president, knowing that arguing further would just waste more time. He schooled himself to patience again as Harper said grace, and then launched in eagerly as soon as Harper looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“Mr. President, we have information that the Ayatollah Kazemi of Iran is going to be assassinated within the next 24 hours. Probably more like 18, now.”
If he had exploded a pipe bomb at the table, it could not have made a bigger impact. Harper jumped to his feet.
“Hank,” he yelled to the Secret Service agent at the door. “Get the Chief of Staff in here immediately. Tell him to call the Security Council in on the double.”
“Yes, sir,” the agent replied, before disappearing through the door, only to be replaced by another agent.
“Lewis, I don’t want you to have to repeat yourself. Eat, while you have a chance.”
President Harper followed his own advice, eating as quickly as possible as his wife looked on in concern. This happened far too often. Not for the fir
st time, Esther Harper worried that her husband’s health was being irreversibly harmed by these constant crises. She did know that his temper was growing shorter, though he seldom let her see it. As he and Sam Lewis finished their hasty meal and left for the conference room where the National Security Council was gathering, Esther prayed for her husband, her nation and the world, in that order.
When his National Security Council was assembled, Harper indicated that Lewis should now repeat his bombshell, and finish telling the story. Lewis began by announcing that they had probably fewer than 18 hours to prevent an assassination attempt on the Ayatollah Kazemi. Before he could go on, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff lived up to his reputation by asking why in the world they’d want to prevent it. Harper restrained himself, barely, from calling the man an idiot to his face.
“Who do you think they’ll blame?” he asked, in a deceptively mild tone. One more idiotic outburst from this man and he’d have his general’s stars.
“Sir, please,” said Lewis, impatient to get the rest of it out.
“Go ahead, we’ll take that up later,” answered the president, staring balefully at the general.
Lewis continued. “We have been informed of a plot planned and to be executed by a new group of men of influence in Iran and possibly other Middle Eastern nations. They have a legitimate beef with Kazemi, but their plan to assassinate him is short-sighted. Unfortunately, we didn’t learn of it until today, and it’s to take place within the next eighteen hours or sooner. We don’t have enough information to intercept the assassin. I suggest we inform the Ayatollah.”
Complete silence greeted his words, and then the Secretary of State spoke.
“I doubt that would help,” she began, thinking aloud. “They’ll consider it a threat rather than a warning. It could even be counterproductive.” Sam had to concede the truth in that statement. He was learning that the Secretary of State had a cool and intelligent head on her shoulders.
“Lewis, do we have assets in-country who can be sent as a protective detail?” This from Harper.
“No, sir, not like you mean. Even if we did, I doubt we could get them anywhere near the Ayatollah,” Sam said, acutely aware that the best asset they had was at the conference in New York City at the moment, rather than where they needed him.