Liss blew out a plume of smoke. -I assume you‘re divorced now.
— I‘m not. But I suspect you already knew that.
— Why didn‘t you and your wife split up?
This was what Liss‘s information couldn‘t tell him. Marks shrugged. -I never stopped loving my wife.
— So she forgave you.
— She never found out, Marks said.
Liss‘s eyes glittered like sapphires. -You didn‘t tell her.
— No.
— You never felt the urge to tell her, to confess. He paused reflectively. -Most men would.
— There was nothing to tell her, Marks said. -Something happened to me-
like the flu-then it was gone.
— Like it never happened.
Marks nodded. -More or less.
Liss stubbed out his cigarette, turned to Willard, and regarded him for a long moment. -All right, he said. -You have your funding. Then he rose and, without another word, walked out of the restaurant.
It‘s the oil fields, stupid! Moira slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. -Good God, why didn‘t I see that all along, it‘s so damn obvious!
— Obvious now that you know everything, Humphry Bamber said.
They were in Christian Lamontierre‘s kitchen, eating roast beef and Havarti cheese sandwiches on sprouted-wheat bread Bamber had made from the well-stocked fridge, washed down with Badoit, a French mineral water. Bamber‘s laptop was on the table in front of them, Bardem up and running through the three scenarios Noah had inputted into the software program.
— I thought the same thing the first time I read Israel Zangwill‘s
— And Pinprick is classic misdirection. Moira studied the scenarios with mounting fascination and dread. -But on such a massive scale that without Bardem no one would be able to figure out that the real reason for invading Iran was to confiscate their oil fields. She pointed at the screen. -This area-Noah‘s target area, Shahrake NasiriAstara-I‘ve read a couple of intelligence reports about it. At least a third of Iran‘s oil comes from there. She pointed again. -See how small a geographic area it is? That makes it both vulnerable to an assault by a relatively small force and easily defendable by that same small force. It‘s perfect for Noah. She shook her head. -My God, this is brilliant-demented, horrific, unthinkable even, but decidedly brilliant.
Bamber went and got another bottle of Badoit out of the fridge. -I don‘t understand.
— I‘m not yet certain of all the details, but what‘s clear is that Black River has made a deal with the devil. Someone high up in the US government has been pushing for us to do something about Iran‘s fast-progressing nuclear program, which threatens to destabilize the entire Middle East. We-and other right-minded governments- have been making noises in the correct diplomatic channels for Iran to cease and dismantle its nuclear reactors. Iran‘s response has been to thumb its nose in our faces. Next, we and our allies tried economic embargoes, which only made Iran laugh because we need their oil, and we‘re not the only ones. Worse, they have the strategic option of closing down the Straits of Hormuz, which would have the effect of shutting down oil shipments from all the OPEC nations in the region.
She got up and put her plate into the sink, then returned to the table.
— Someone here in Washington decided that patience was getting us nowhere.
Bamber frowned. -And?
— So they decided to force the issue. They used the downing of our airliner to go to war against Iran, but they‘re also apparently running a side mission.
— Pinprick.
— Exactly. What Bardem is telling us is that under the chaos of the ground invasion, a small cadre of Black River operatives-with the full consent of the government-is going to take over the oil fields in Shahrake NasiriAstara, giving us far more control over our economic destiny. With this Iranian oil, we‘ll no longer have to kowtow to the Saudis, the Iranians, Venezuela, or any OPEC nation, for that matter. America will be oilindependent.
— But the oil field land-grab is illegal, isn‘t it?
— Duh. However, for some reason that doesn‘t seem to be concerning anyone at the moment.
— Well, what are you going to do now?
That was, of course, the billion-dollar question. In another time, another place she would have called Ronnie Hart, but Ronnie was dead. Noah-
she was quite certain it was Noah-had seen to that. She missed Ronnie now, more than ever, but the selfish reason for her emotion shamed her, and she turned away from the acknowledgment. That‘s when she thought of Soraya Moore. She‘d met Soraya through Bourne, and liked her. That they‘d shared a past hadn‘t bothered her in the slightest; she wasn‘t the jealous type.
How to get in touch with Soraya? Opening her cell, she called CI headquarters. The director, she was told, was out of the country. When she told the operative that her call was urgent, he told her to wait. A little over sixty seconds later, he was back on the phone.
— Give me the number where Director Moore can reach you, he said.
Moira recited her cell phone number and cut the connection, fully expecting that her request would be
