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“You look tired.” She studied him with a frown.
Rapp pointed at her and looked at McDonald. “She’s like my big sister. Does she ever tell you that you look like crap?”
McDonald smiled. “Nope.”
“I didn’t say crap. I said tired.”
“You meant to say crap…you’re just too polite.”
“Well…you look really tired. You have dark circles under your eyes and you…” Kennedy leaned in and sniffed the air. “You’ve been smoking,” she said disapprovingly.
“Yes, I’ve been smoking. That’s what people do over here. Everyone smokes. That’s how you fit in. Otherwise you look like a politically correct American and then they either shoot you or kidnap you, which is a hell of a lot more hazardous to your health than a few smokes.”
“Good point,” Kennedy conceded.
“What’s gone on since last night?”
“The resolutions that were brought on behalf of the Iranians have been tabled, but they are holding firm that they are suspending our right to innocent passage through the Strait of Hormuz.”
“Yeah…let’s see them try to enforce that one.”
“My fear is that they will.”
“You can’t be serious. It would be the most lopsided naval engagement in history.”
“That’s my point. They might try to provoke something and make themselves look like the victims. They’re desperate, Mitch. This operation that you started is having a real effect. The Brits informed us that two banks and several gas stations were firebombed in Tehran last night. They say anti-Amatullah graffiti is suddenly popping up around the city.”
“Good. Maybe they’ll storm the Presidential Palace.”
“If only we could be so lucky.”
Stilwell entered the room and said, “Good morning, Director.”
“Morning, Stan.”
“I just got a call from Rob. He says Ashani has landed and is on his way. It’s time to go.”
Rapp looked at McDonald and said, “Give me a five minute head start and then don’t stop for anything.”
“I won’t.”
He turned to Kennedy and with a reassuring smile said, “Good luck. I’ll be close by in case anything goes wrong.”
32
The street was blocked at each end by police cruisers. One of the blue-and-white cruisers backed onto the curb to allow Ashani’s motorcade to pass. The three vehicles stopped directly in front of the café. Ashani opened his door and stepped onto the curb as the masked men in his security detail spread out. Ashani thought the whole thing a bit overdone. He proceeded into the café with his security chief and the man from the CIA. The place was small. Fifteen feet wide by about forty feet deep. The floor was covered with beige, rectangular tiles. The grout had turned from gray to black in the high-traffic areas, and the entire floor seemed to have a coating of grime on it. Ashani looked around. The white walls had taken on a yellowish tinge from all the smoking. It made him think of his lungs, which thankfully were feeling much better. Hopefully the doctor was right, and there would be no lasting effects.
“Minister,” Ridley said, “may I get you anything to drink? Director Kennedy should be here in a little bit.”
“I would like some tea, please.”
Ridley looked at Ashani’s security chief, and the man shook his head.
Ashani approached one of the tables halfway back and took a seat in one of the blue fiberglass chairs. He was about to start looking for listening devices and thought better of it. The Americans had such good technology it would be a waste of time. It was more than likely that they would be using lasers or directional microphones to capture the conversation. Ridley came over with his tea and a jar of honey. Ashani was amused that the man from the CIA knew he liked his tea with honey, but didn’t show it. He thanked him and was about to mix in the honey when he saw his counterpart’s entourage show up.
Ashani set the honey down and stood. He watched as a large man carrying a machine gun entered the room in front of Kennedy. He surveyed the entire place and then stepped out of the way and gestured for the director of the CIA to enter. Kennedy stepped over the threshold and took off her oversized black sunglasses.
Ashani had met face-to-face with the director of the CIA on two previous occasions. According to his dossier on her she was forty-six years old. She also happened to be the youngest person to ever run the American spy agency and the first woman. She had a Ph.D. in Arabic studies and was the divorced mother of a boy approximately the age of ten. Ashani knew that obscure fact because several years ago Mukhtar and his animals at Hezbollah had come to him with a proposal to kidnap the boy. Ashani gave the paramilitary leader of Hezbollah a stern rebuke for even considering such an operation.
