Siavash Mostofi felt light on him. His mind felt sluggish, his body hurt.
He struggled to open his eyes and shut them immediately from the harsh brightness. He heard voices around him, but they were speaking too softly for him to make anything out.
He opened his eyes, gradually this time to let them adjust to the light.
What he saw didn’t make sense. He was in the shadow of what seemed to be an aircraft hangar. Sunlight seemed to shine off the concrete runway and he could feel the heat coming off the ground.
He raised his head slowly, blinking, trying to comprehend what he saw.
That dome in the distance. Wasn’t that? No, that didn’t make sense. He was in Tehran. He was giving that speech – he stiffened as memory returned.
That dome! It was the American Capitol. If he leaned forward … he couldn’t, he was tied to a chair. But if he went forward, he was sure he could see the rear of the White House.
Shock flooded him as he looked about him.
Carter! He was talking to a woman. That was the Agency boss. That man over there, that was Bwana, those twins, they were all there.
With realization came bitter fury and shame.
He had failed yet again. Not only that, his enemy had somehow captured him and brought him to the country he hated.
‘Ronald Reagan Airport,’ Zeb approached him. They had showered and changed in their Gulfstream which was waiting for them in Jordan and had managed to catch a few hours of sleep.
A swift debrief with Clare who had received them at the airport before Mostofi had come to.
‘Fifth of July. In case you are wondering where you are and what date it is. As you can guess,’ he nodded at the American flags festooned in the hangar, ‘nothing happened. We got Golzar before he boarded the flight.’
‘Iran pumped more oil for a day,’ Bwana joined him. ‘Give Mostofi some credit.’
‘Yeah, you did that. Prices dropped for a while but not for long. We worked with the Saudis and adjusted global supply. The media has gone to town today.’
Zeb showed him that day’s Wall Street Journal.
Iran’s Oil Conspiracy.
He flipped the page to a smaller headline.
Attack in Iran. QUDS Leader goes Missing.
‘No one knows you are here,’ Beth said. ‘That will soon change once we break the news. We’ll try you as a war criminal.’
‘I bet Israel will want to get their hands on you as well.’
‘You’re going down for a long time.’ Bwana announced.
‘Like, forever,’ Roger added, then frowned thoughtfully. ‘That isn’t right. I think if we hand him over to the Israelis … it wouldn’t surprise me if Mostofi has an unexpected and early demise.’
‘I will never break. I will never give you anything,’ the Quds boss hissed.
‘We don’t need anything from you,’ Meghan laughed.
‘I’m not sure,’ Zeb said slowly. ‘You are going down, make no mistake. But you could make life a little easier for yourself.’
‘What are you doing?’ Beth snarled at him.
‘ZEB!’ Clare rapped at him.
‘What’s on your mind? Why are you offering him any deal?’ their boss asked him when they gathered around her.
‘Something I told Zarhagi, that nothing would change at the ground level.’
‘I remember.’ The anger in Meghan’s eyes faded to curiosity. ‘What about it?’
‘Mostofi is a tool. He exists because the Supreme Leader willed it.’
‘We are not into destabilizing countries, Zeb,’ Clare warned. ‘That’s not the Agency’s business.’
‘I know, ma’am. All I am talking of is reducing his power.’