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"Ah ... I know what you mean. In the summer I find Damascus to be unbearable. But don't worry, I wasn't offended," Ivanov said, lying to himself more than Sayyed. "I just wish it hadn't taken this long. We have many important things to discuss."
"Yes, I know," Sayyed said, trying to be agreeable.
Ivanov took a gulp of wine and asked, "How long have we known each other?"
"A long time," Sayyed said, looking into his own glass. "Twelve years, I think."
"Thirteen, actually. And we have fucked with the Americans like no one else." Ivanov made a fist and shook it. "Every time they have tried to stick their nose in your business, we have sent them running away like a scared dog."
"That is true," Sayyed said, making no mention of all the times the Russians had stuck their long snouts into his business.
"And now they are back again."
Sayyed was still looking at the expensive French wine in his glass. He could feel Ivanov watching him with intensity. He shrugged and said, "Not really."
"That is not what I have heard."
"What have you heard?"
"I have heard you captured one of Langley's deep cover operatives."
Sayyed's mind was swimming with thoughts of murder. The idiots in Damascus, no doubt, had passed the information to the Russian. Did anyone in his government know how to keep a secret? Knowing he was trapped, he said, "We caught one of them snooping around. I'm not sure he was an agent of any particular importance."
Ivanov smiled. "I think you are being modest."
Sayyed didn't know how to answer so he took a drink of wine.
"I am told this man worked in their Directorate of Operations. That he reported directly to Deputy Director Stansfield. That he worked in Berlin and Moscow for a time."
Someone in Damascus really did have a big mouth. "As you know from experience, these men are trained to lie. I cannot say with any certainty that his claims are truthful."
"They usually try to understate their importance, not overstate it."
That was true. "The important thing is that we have bloodied them yet again, and as you know, they do not have the stomach for this kind of thing."
Ivanov gave him a dubious look. "I'm not so sure these days."
Sayyed was. "Do not worry yourself with such little fish."
"This might be a bigger fish than you think," Ivanov said, with a hint of inside knowledge.
"What have you heard?"
"Things ... rumors here and there. Nothing concrete, but I've been in this business long enough to smell a rat."
"What things?"
"Hamdi Sharif."
Sayyed thought of the recently deceased arms dealer. "Yes. I knew him well."
"Who do you think killed him?"
Sayyed had heard two rumors. "Mossad more than likely, but there was something else I picked up."
"What?"
Sayyed was not afraid to repeat the rumor. A man like Ivanov would take it as a compliment. "That he was stealing from you and you had him killed."
