Oath of Office

Jack tapped a telephone number into the computer. “Okay. I’ll make my phone call and get us a ticket somewhere a little less intense. We’ll be on the road before anyone has a chance to track the signal.”

Dovzhenko went out back while Ysabel disappeared down the hallway toward the front of the house.

* * *

Fifty-five kilometers to the east, across the braided streams of the Hari River on the outskirts of the village of Jebrael, Parviz Sassani wiped the blood from his hands with a damp cloth he’d taken from the dead woman’s kitchen. The IRGC man with him crouched beside the bodies of the woman’s teenage boys, looking for evidence in the eldest one’s pockets. The little girl was much too young to have anything of value.

By the time IRGC contacts in London learned that Ysabel Kashani was not there, Sassani had already determined that she worked for the UNODC in Afghanistan. A search of flight manifests departing Tehran revealed Erik Dovzhenko had fled shortly after the raid on Maryam Farhad’s apartment. Sassani chuckled softly. The traitor had been at the airport during their phone conversation. IRGC contacts in Dubai and Kabul helped trace the Russian to Herat.

A quick flight over via IRGC aircraft and a few questions around the UNODC office led Sassani to Fatima Husseini, a frequent volunteer and staunch defender of Kashani and her program. According to neighbors in Jebrael, the Husseini woman had walked several kilometers just to warn her friend of possible trouble with smugglers. Two of those smugglers were later found in Kashani’s office, one dead, the other brain-addled. It was an event big enough to cause a stir even in a war-torn part of the world like Afghanistan.

Fatima Husseini had been no help at all, gnashing her teeth and refusing to betray her friend until Sassani had been forced to threaten the lives of her children. Only then did she tell him of the smugglers, and the man who she was sure employed them — an opium smuggler named Omar Khan. Fatima had no idea where Khan lived, but his brain-addled man was still in the hospital, he would know.

They were close now. Fatima had told him as much before she died. Sassani tossed the bloody rag onto the floor and motioned for his lieutenant to come with him. If anyone knew the whereabouts of Ysabel Kashani, it would be Omar Khan.

50

Clark stood across the room, breaking the news about Jack to Gerry Hendley when Ding’s cell phone began to buzz. The voice on the other end made Chavez feel like all his blood drained into his legs.

“We thought you were dead,” he said, and then snapped his fingers to get Clark’s attention.

Clark held up a hand to tell him to wait.

“It’s Jack,” Ding said, getting an immediate response.

“I’m going to call you right back,” Clark said into his phone. “Sounds like we have a call from Junior… Yeah. I’ll get you a sitrep as soon as I find out what’s going on.”

Chavez put Ryan on speaker and the two men went into a back bedroom, out of da Rocha’s earshot.

“Speak to me, kid,” Clark said. “You all right?”

“We’re all alive and free,” Ryan said, his voice disembodied, slightly garbled. “But it was touch and go for a while there.” He paused, sounding like he was getting choked up. “Listen… I have bad news.”

“Dom’s fine,” Clark said. It was one thing to joke, but never about the life of a teammate and friend. “He called us about a half-hour ago from an Afghan Army hospital near Herat. He’s got some serious burns but he assures us nothing life threatening. Adara talked to him and threatened to kick his ass if he died. I’d imagine he’ll be on his way to Ramstein any minute now.”

The relief in Ryan’s voice was audible.

“Listen,” Clark said. “We’ve had a couple of significant developments in this end. What kind of a line are you on?”

“VoIP,” Ryan said. “I’m anonymized, and I think encrypted, but we’re on a satellite link so I have to hurry.”

“You think?” Chavez said.

“I can’t read Farsi,” Ryan said. “But I’m pretty sure.”

“That’ll have to do,” Clark said. “NSA’s probably the only ones listening in anyway and they’ll know all this soon enough…”

Clark gave Ryan the full rundown on the Gorgon missiles, and their last known location in Iran.

“The Russians… or at least some Russians, are complicit in this caper,” Chavez said. “See if your guy knows anything about where these Gorgons are supposed to go.”

“He’s right here,” Ryan said. “And he looks as stupefied as I am.”

“I thought as much,” Clark said. “Our guy says they were delivered to an airfield in northeast Iran, near the city of Mashhad. Makes sense. IRGC rocket forces have a missile base there.”

“Mashhad…” Ryan paused for moment, then said, “That’s only a hundred and fifty miles from where we are. We’ll check it out.”

“Go to Iran?” Chavez said with an emphatic shake of his head. “Not a chance.”

“John,” Ryan said. “I’m here and ready to go. If the Iranians have nukes then we have to find out where they—”