Pandora's grave

He turned back to find Davood gone, the sound of a door opening down the hallway the only sign of the agent’s departure. The old man sighed and went back to sweeping, checking his watch. It was almost time to broadcast the new recording of the call to prayer he had downloaded the previous day…

8:08 A.M.

The apartment

Manassas, Virginia

“Still no sign of anything missing, I guess?” Harry asked, standing outside the apartment that Hamid shared with Thomas.

Hamid shook his head. “I made a thorough inventory last night. It was a standard toss job, everything put back into place-very professional.”

“So, we’ve got no idea what they were after.”

“Or who they were,” Hamid acknowledged with a frown.

“Oh, let’s see,” Harry grinned, “who have we upset lately?”

“That’s a long list.”

“I know. You want to stop up the road and grab a cup of coffee before heading into work?”

“Sounds like a good idea. Let me lock up.”

Harry turned to walk back toward his car, aware suddenly of the TACSAT buzzing in his jacket pocket.

“Nichols here.” He was still listening three minutes later when Hamid reemerged from the apartment, his government-issued Glock riding easily on his hip.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said finally. “I’ll be there as soon as possible. Yes, I understand, sir. Goodbye.”

“Who was that?” Hamid asked.

“Kranemeyer,” Harry replied. “Looks like I’m going to have to miss our coffee.”

“Oh?”

“Wants me in the office ASAP. I’d better hit the road.”

“I’ll drink a cup in your honor.”

Harry grinned. “Really appreciate that, man. I really do.”

7:45 P.M. Tehran Time

Alborz Mountains

Iran

“Provided nothing goes wrong, we should reach this village by noon time,” Azad Badir stated, swivelling his laptop around so that both Sirvan and Thomas could see the screen. The modern technology looked strangely out of place in the shepherd’s hands, but it had gotten to the point where he wasn’t surprised by anything.

“We are moving eastward?”

The rebel leader looked up from the screen and nodded. “Yes.” He stabbed at the screen with a long, bony finger. “There is an Iranian airbase here. In two days we will strike-teams with explosives through the wire after dark, the rest setting up ambush outside once the charges are blown. I will expect you and Estere to provide sniper support.”

Thomas nodded. The old man was a tactician, all right. “I would be honored to serve as your granddaughter’s spotter again.”

“No, no,” Badir interrupted him. “You will have your own rifle, to be sure. We can do all the better with two teams.”

Thomas accepted the news in respectful silence, knowing no answer was expected. The orders had been given. And they surprised him to an extent. In days he had gone from being a virtual prisoner to an integral part of the fighters’ battle plans. Although grateful for their confidence, he found their latest move unsettling. They were moving east, farther into Iran, farther from the safety of the Iraqi border.

He stood, his part of the conference over, and walked away, leaving Badir to instruct his grandson on their strategy for attacking the camp.

Sentries had already been posted for the night, the group’s pack animals securely hobbled. Thomas sat down by the fire, leaning against a boulder as he gazed up at the sky. The flames flickered and leapt into the sky, casting bizarre shadows against the cliff behind him. The view was mesmerizing.

“Tired?” A voice asked.

He jumped, turning to find Estere standing there watching him. How long she had been there, he had no idea.

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “They ought to hold SERE classes in these mountains.”

“SERE?” she asked, a puzzled look on her face as she took a seat beside him.

“Survive, Escape, Resist, Evade,” Thomas explained. “It’s one of the training courses we go through.”

She nodded her understanding, taking another sip from the cup of tea nestled in her hands. “I’ve always wanted to go to America.”

He looked at her there in the firelight and it seemed as though he was seeing her for the first time, her hair undone and flowing in dark waves around her face. He started to speak, then thought better of it, his legendary eloquence deserting him.

The thousand pick-up lines that had worked so well for him in the nightclubs and dinner parties of Manhattan seemed strangely empty now. There was something different about her-something he had never seen in a woman.

“Have you?” he asked in an attempt to keep the conversation flowing. Lame, Thomas, lame.

Fortunately, she seemed not to notice. “Oh, yes. Ever since I was a little girl,” she continued, her dark eyes shining in the firelight. “American movies, American music, anything American. Freedom, mostly, I think. To be able to live free, without fighting every step of the way.”

He smiled, his powers of speech returning into what seemed like the perfect comeback. “Where do you suppose I come in?”