“They called Crossley on the green line. He admitted that his wife had been sleeping with the Iranian driver, but she disappeared. She’s been gone for about a day now. Crossley has asked for help from the Iranian Government to find her, but everyone has his hands full with the demonstrations. Elizabeth Crossley is not at the top of their list at the moment. They don’t even know if their government is going to survive.
“We ran traces on the driver and confirmed SENTINEL’s information,” Thérèse continued. “The driver is a major in IRGC Security and works for Mousavi.”
“Has Crossley’s wife defected? Run off with her Iranian lover?” He waved his cigar and stood. “That’s a first!” What does State have to say? An American defecting to Iran? I can’t believe it.”
Still standing, he asked in a quieter voice, “What about Steve?”
“Both Steve and Kella are on a watch list. The dragnet is now national. Steve is accused of having shot the student killed in the demonstrations. His picture is in all the Iranian papers. At first, Steve tried to buy more time by planting seeds that should have had Mousavi looking for him to the North, toward Turkey. With SENTINEL’s help, Steve, Kella, and an Iranian woman who hid them for a few days in Tehran are heading for Yazd, SENTINEL’S hometown. SENTINEL, a secret Zoroastrian, is helping to get them out. It’s to his advantage. The last thing he wants is for Steve to be captured.”
Deuel put his cup down. “A secret what?”
Thérèse smiled, “A Zoroastrian. There are forty thousand left in Iran. They’re an officially accepted minority. It’s not a useful thing to be if you want to succeed in Iran. So, many keep their faith to themselves, as SENTINEL has done.”
“Okay, how are you going to get them out?”
There was a knock at the door, and Mary took two steps into the office. As if confirming Deuel’s worst nightmare, she said, “Sir, Representative Langdon’s office is calling to set up hearings on the CIA Investigation. You are being scheduled for two full days.”
Deuel had gone back to his desk, and Thérèse was now standing in front of it knowing the meeting had already run too long.
Deuel contemplated his cigar for a moment and said, “Thérèse, you’ve been after me to get out of town for the last six months, right? Where did you want me to go again? Make sure I’m there when those hearings are scheduled. You should be out of Washington also. Maybe you’d like to come with me.” He looked toward his assistant, “Mary, work with Thérèse’s office on this.”
Mary took her irrepressible cheerfulness back to her desk, and Deuel turned back to Thérèse who idly wondered what Mary’s secret to perpetual happiness could be. Maybe her sex life. Which led her to think of Navy Captain Brian Navarre in the Persian Gulf.
She was interrupted from going further down that path when Deuel said, “As we were saying, extracting Steve and Kella are now your main priorities, right? How are you going to do it? Keep me informed. I’m on my way to the White House.”
Deuel rose, confirming the end of the meeting. “The President wants to see me about this operation and the cyber threat, which now has a name. The President christened it Operation RAMPART. I don’t like it,” he grumbled, “too defensive for my taste. I think he’s getting ready to request funds for a secret crash program to defend against this Iranian cyber threat. The process is so time consuming that I suspect he’ll have to invoke his War Powers to get the money quickly. Not my job.” He smiled in relief.
Before she was through the door, Deuel said, “Thérèse, I told Marshall Church that we would bring Steve back alive!” He fixed her with his gaze for an instant before turning back to his desk.
Thérèse left the director’s office with Deuel’s words still ringing in her ears and weighing Steve and Kella’s chances when Steve’s picture was like a Most Wanted poster, identifying him as the personification of evil. Mousavi evidently was pulling out all the stops.
47. Yazd, Iran
Firuz sat alone in the front, while the chadored passengers sat in the back. Suitcases and bags were in the trunk and on the front passenger seat. Steve, not knowing why Firuz had shown up and not wanting to spook him, avoided the critical question in his mind: the significance of Firuz’s sudden appearance.
What did he know about Steve’s real purpose in Iran? About SENTINEL’s secret activities for the CIA? What convinced him to drive them? Had his uncle recruited him? Was this just a family thing, the senior uncle asking his nephew to perform a task without asking questions?
Assuming that Firuz wouldn’t feel comfortable being quizzed about any of those topics in front of Kella and Farah and putting a higher priority on leaving Tehran, Steve focused on another relevant subject and tried to ignore the discomfort of sitting in the middle in the back. Although he knew that each female on his right and left was lovely, his six foot-one frame didn’t quite fit, and his knees were almost up to his chest.
“Kella, what do you know about Zoroastrianism?” he asked.
The car had reached the outskirts of Tehran and was going against the traffic. Anywhere else, driving in the opposite direction of commuter traffic would have allowed the car to move effortlessly on a mostly vacant road. However, in the conviction that all square footage of the pavement was there to be used, drivers overflowed onto the entire width of the streets. Much of the time as they made their escape, Firuz was driving the wrong way on a de facto
