Protect And Defend

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.

“Director Kennedy,” Ashani said as he extended his right hand, “it is good to see you again.”

Kennedy smiled. “I wish it was under better circumstances, Minister Ashani.”

“Please call me Azad.”

“Only if you’ll call me Irene.”

“Of course. Sit.” He motioned to the chair across from his. “May I get you something to drink?”

“Tea would be nice.” Kennedy pulled out her chair and sat.

Ashani looked to his security chief and nodded toward the barista behind the counter. He then joined Kennedy at the table. He studied her face for a moment and thought she looked at ease. Either she was very good at dealing with stress or she was a good actress. He guessed by the lack of worry lines around her eyes that she handled stress well.

Gesturing toward her face, Ashani said, “You did not have to wear the hijab on my account.”

Kennedy touched the black scarf she had draped over her head and shoulders. “I don’t mind it. I wore one as a girl.”

“You lived abroad?” Ashani was playing dumb, as he knew that she had.

“Yes. Cairo, Damascus, and then Beirut.”

Ashani nodded and acted surprised.

“But then again…I’m sure you knew about Beirut.”

“What about Beirut?” he said with a straight face.

“I did not come here to open old wounds, but I think it’s very important that we be honest with each other if we are going to find a way out of this mess.”

Ashani hesitated and then said, “I would agree.”

“Then I find it hard to believe that as Iran’s minister of intelligence, you didn’t already know that my father was killed in the U.S. Embassy bombing in Beirut back in nineteen eighty-three.” Kennedy would have liked to have added that the bombing had been carried out by Hezbollah and sponsored by Iran, but there was no need to state the obvious. Ashani knew who was behind the carnage, and he knew Kennedy knew as well.

Ashani took a sip of tea and then delicately said, “I’m sorry about your father. I do not like all this violence. Too many innocent people have been killed.”

Ashani’s man placed a cup of steaming tea in front of Kennedy and backed away. Kennedy picked up the cup with both hands and said, “Far too many.”

“There are many in my country,” Ashani said while putting both arms on the table and leaning closer to Kennedy, “who question how evil the U.S. really is. You have rid us of both Saddam and the Taliban. As you well know, we Shia and Sunni do not like each other. The only time we stop fighting is when someone like you gets in the middle.”

“Sad but true.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then Ashani said, “We have a situation here that I am afraid could spin out of control. There are many people in my government who want blood for the destruction of the Isfahan facility. Our Persian pride demands it.”

“Pride can be a very destructive thing.”

Ashani snorted. “Yes. You are right, but I’m afraid there are few people in my government who see it that way. They want someone to pay for this offense.”

“Then they should crack down on the insurgents and leave us and Israel out of it. Or are they too afraid to admit they have an internal problem?”

“I did not come here to discuss the inner workings of my government,” Ashani said a bit more seriously. “I was invited to listen to you and find a mutually agreeable solution to this mess.”

Kennedy sipped her tea and then said, “President Alexander is flirting with the idea of opening limited diplomatic relations.”

“Interesting. What is the incentive for my government?”

“You have twenty to thirty percent inflation; you import forty percent of your oil, even though you have the second-highest oil reserves of any country behind Saudi Arabia; and your economy is about to collapse. You have an internal revolt brewing that like before will be met with a crackdown from the religious extremists. Although this time it is less certain they will succeed.” Kennedy stopped to see if Ashani wanted to argue any of these points. He didn’t, so she continued.

“If you were to meet us halfway and agree that it is time for our two nations to bury old wounds and forge a lasting peace that respects both Islam and freedom, we would restore relations on a level that would encourage American investment in your country.”

“There are many in my country,” Ashani said, “who think you were behind the destruction of the Isfahan facility.”

Kennedy looked him straight in the eye and said, “I can promise you, we had nothing to do with the attack.”

“That may well be the case. I am just telling you, the hard-liners will want something more concrete than the possibility that American banks might invest in our country.”

“American financial institutions will follow the U.S. government. That is why the president is prepared to offer you a billion dollars in guaranteed loans.”

Ashani was surprised. “What is the catch?”

“The money must go toward building new refineries. The loans will be interest-free for the first three years, and after that they will be locked in at five percent.”

“The money has to be used to build refineries?”

“The president feels it is the only way he can get a majority of the Congress to back it.”

“You want us to renounce our nuclear program?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not publicly.”

“But privately.”

“It would help.”

Ashani winced. “There are those in my country who are obsessed with becoming a nuclear power.”

Kennedy leaned in and whispered, “Your economy is close to collapsing. You are on the verge of another revolution, only this time, you guys are going to be the ones thrown out of power. This is a chance for you to stave off disaster.”

Ashani scratched his beard, looked past Kennedy and the dusty front door. With just his limited view he counted five men in urban combat gear holding their weapons at the ready. This could be Tehran in a year or two if economic stability wasn’t reached. One thing bothered him, though. Ashani looked carefully into Kennedy’s eyes and asked, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you offering to help us?”

Kennedy nodded. Despite Ashani’s relatively open mind, there was no getting over the fact the he had spent all of his adult life in a country that blamed America for virtually every woe. “Because we feel,” Kennedy started out slowly, “that there are enough people like you, Azad, decent people who want to put an end to the hatred and violence. Who knows what type of government might take over after a second revolution? Who’s to say it won’t be more fundamentalist and anti-Western than the current government?” Kennedy shook her head. “We have learned the hard way that economic instability in Middle East is not in the best interest of the United States. The lack of opportunity makes it all too easy for the clerics to preach their hatred. We want to see a resurgence in Persian pride. We want you to take control of your own destiny. We want to see you make advances in science and health. We want to see you succeed, if for no other reason than we stop getting blamed for your failures.”

Ashani had a look of intense concentration on his face. Everything she had just said was true, but selling it to men whose entire power base was dependent on a hatred of America would be exceedingly difficult.

Kennedy knew what he was thinking. “I know this is risky. That is why I am here and not Secretary of State Wicka. My president sent me because he knows you and I have proven that our two countries can work together.”

“That is true, but this is a big step.”

“What is your alternative, Azad?” Kennedy put her arms out and motioned in each direction. “Is this what you want? Car bombs and sectarian violence, kidnappings and bloodletting? We both know your country is closer to this than the mullahs would ever admit.”

With downcast eyes, Ashani slowly nodded.

“Then what is your answer?”

In Ashani’s mind there was no doubt this was the right thing to do, but selling it to the Supreme Council would be extremely difficult. His mind kept returning to Amatullah. The Peacock President would hate this with every fiber of his body. Still, there was a chance that the Supreme Leader would see it as an opportunity for his people to avoid years of pain and suffering. Finally, Ashani looked at Kennedy and said, “It is my sincere hope that this will be recorded as the moment our two countries forged a new and lasting friendship. I must warn you, though, that this is going to be very hard for me to sell to the Supreme Council.”

“I know it will, but I hope for the sake of both our countries you succeed.”