‘Let’s get Clare,’ Meghan announced in their office. ‘We aren’t getting anywhere. We’re just speculating about what Chau confessed yesterday.’
‘He did say it,’ Roger pointed to the envelope. ‘We got those flakes as well. Right there. On your desk.’
The operatives argued back and forth for a while, which was what they had done all day. Theorizing on why the oil equipment had to be made to look old.
The worm that Broker had planted on the oilman’s laptop and the bug in his phone hadn’t yielded much result. It had given the twins access to his local files which were all about Gayou’s business, however, since the executive hadn’t logged into his company’s network or any other, they hadn’t gotten much.
His phone had been active, several calls to the police to report the break-in and theft, and more calls to his office. Werner was poring over all his contacts, which seemed to be NIOC officials and other Gayou workers.
Zeb glanced at the wall-mounted clock. Tehran was eight and a half hours ahead of DC. She’ll still be awake even though it’s late night for her. He dialed the number and turned on the speaker when the phone rang.
‘Zeb?’ she asked, her voice, clear, alert, when he went through the security protocol.
‘Ma’am, we got—’
‘We found paint flakes,’ Beth burst out, breaking down Chau’s interrogation as well as his admission to their boss.
Clare listened without interruption and went silent for a few moments. They kept quiet. They knew how she worked.
‘All the equipment’s made to look old?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Zeb admitted.
‘Hang on a minute.’ They heard her typing. ‘Yeah. I’m looking at surveillance photographs, reports … Iran’s oil infrastructure is old.’
‘Ma’am, pictures of those flakes should be with you.’ Meghan brushed her forelock back.
‘Got them,’ their boss replied absently. ‘Iran’s got one of the world’s largest oil reserves.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘We figured Mostofi might be planning to blow up his terminals,’ Bear mused. ‘And blame it on us or Israel.’
‘That would be some move,’ she said slowly, ‘but that wouldn’t be all he wants.’
‘He wants to destroy us,’ Chloe interjected.
‘Exactly.’
‘How does making the pipelines, the terminals, everything look old, help him?’ Roger ground out in frustration.
‘I think you’re looking at this the wrong way. I’ll have to consult Randall, Catlyn and a few others,’ her voice grew sharp.
Randall Hocker, the Energy Secretary, Zeb guessed. Catlyn Feder was the CIA Director, a close ally. Whatever doubts she had about us, that’s in the past. ‘Why, ma’am?’
‘Like I said, you’ve made the wrong assumption. Iran, Mostofi, they’ve been fooling us all along. Heck, not just us, the whole world. If their oil infrastructure is not old then there’s only one reason for it be hidden from everyone.’
‘They want to up their oil output,’ Zeb said softly.
‘Not just increase it,’ Meghan leaned forward in excitement, ‘but do it almost instantly.’ She turned to her sister. ‘Remember those appointments in Nassour’s laptop? For his boss. The meeting with Bijan Noori, the Petroleum Minister?’
‘We didn’t think much of it, then,’ Beth nodded, her eyes gleaming. ‘Work stuff for the Quds Director.’
‘You know what this will do to oil prices?’ Clare cut through. ‘It’ll bring them down to rock bottom.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Bear frowned so hard that his eyebrows almost joined. ‘Low energy prices help—’
‘Yeah,’ Meghan said, ‘but they’ll damage our economy. We are energy independent. It’ll kill our shale oil companies. They’ll go bust. Unemployment will rise. Stock markets will fall.’
‘Saudi!’ Chloe snapped her fingers.
‘Yeah,’ the elder twin acknowledged. ‘They’ll hurt, too. Big time. There’s an ongoing rivalry between Iran and that country. Mostofi will kill two birds with this one act. July Fourth, that’s when he’ll open up the pumping. Flood the markets. That’s why he’s been upping the rhetoric on TV. He’s building up to it.’
Zeb remained immobile as his friends burst into excited chatter, talking over one another, consulting their boss. He didn’t feel their glances, Clare calling him.
He started when Meghan shook his shoulder.
‘You drifted off?’ Her smile faded when she registered his expression. ‘What’s it?’
‘Oil prices aren’t enough for him,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ Clare asked from over in DC.
‘It’s not spectacular, ma’am. He goes for flash. Demonstrative missions. He wants to show big incidents happening. He wants the Iranians to believe that he’s fighting for them. He’s got the Supreme Leader on his side because he’s delivered explosive operations. Tripling, quadrupling the oil output, even increasing it tenfold,’ Zeb shook his head. ‘There’s nothing for his people to see in that.’
‘It will hurt the US and the Saudi economies,’ Bwana challenged him.
‘It will, but it won’t happen overnight. It will take time.’
‘You think this is a red herring?’ Beth asked him sharply. ‘He’s conning us?’
‘No. I am sure, come the Fourth, he will flood the market with oil. But that’s not all he’ll do. That alone will not destroy us.’
‘He’s working on something else.’
‘Find out,’ Clare had the last word. ‘And stop him.’