certain.”
“I’ve started a tail on Thompson the moment he got off the plane. We’ll stay on him and the others. I don’t think our mission is in jeopardy, but I want to make sure.” He paused. “I’m thinking we might need them. Thompson and his people.”
“Your call. Report back to me anything you find out. We are at a critical stage. We can’t afford any screwups with so much at stake. Israel is counting on us.”
“Agreed. I’ll keep you apprised.” He cut the connection and returned his attention to the screen. “So what are you up to, Jack?”
He watched Thompson and Visiri in deep conversation. “Jack, you’ve always been a pain in my butt. How many times have I protected you and the others—and you never knew. While I admire what you’re doing, I might not always be around to save your bacon next time. Watch your back, Jack.”
Chapter 16
February 23
T ime to step out on that ledge and take a chance
.
Shakeela’s boss might crucify her, but she knew that Jack Thompson had Gerrit’s back. She could trust him.
Shakeela decided to escort the colonel all the way back to his car in spite of all the eyes focused on her this very minute. As they cleared the lobby, he turned toward her. “I can take it from here, Agent Vaziri.”
“Call me Shakeela, please, Colonel. And I am sorry about what happened back there.”
“Hey, my tail feathers are still attached. And call me Jack.”
She tried to smile, but inside she was so tense, it probably looked like a pained grimace. “I really need to talk to you, but let’s wait until we’re farther from the building.”
A darkening sky gave the place an eerie feeling, as if the secrets here attracted gloom and darkness. Lies upon lies. Grimly, she recalled the inscription on the wall inside from the book of John: “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
What a joke! Danger existed in this place because of all the lies she had been told—
or been forced to live. Something was afoot, something more sinister than she had ever confronted. Trying to get at the truth became frustrating and hazardous. Maybe Jack and Gerrit would be her salvation.
As they walked away from the building, Shakeela reached out and touched the colonel’s arm. “Hold up a minute, Jack. Before we get in earshot of your driver.”
Jack turned, waiting.
“I have to talk to someone I can trust. I know Gerrit trusts you.” She paused, trying to control her feelings. “First, Gerrit’s all right?”
Jack grinned. “That man seems to be indestructible. If he were a cat, I think he’d be working on his tenth life.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. Why did Gerrit still linger in her thoughts after all these years? “I’m thankful. He’s one of the good guys.”
“Can’t argue that point. Now, what’s troubling you?”
She glanced around, knowing others might be electronically surveilling them—including her boss. It didn’t matter. By the looks Attmire gave her, she already invited trouble—so she might as well dive in.
“You guessed right, Jack. The Agency selected me to head up efforts in Europe to make contact with certain Iranian dissidents. Due to my Iranian heritage, the CIA thought I’d be more approachable—even if I
am
a woman.” She tried to make that last comment into a joke, but it fell flat.
She resented the gender issue within her own organization. There was still the Good Ole Boy’s network in place, and she faced two strikes against her—her heritage and gender—when it came to rising within the CIA’s subculture.
“How has that worked for you?”
“Very slow going until recently. I’ve been running this cover operation for almost two years, gaining the trust of certain dissidents. Once I broke down those barriers, they started to point out to me those in their community who didn’t seem to fit. I made contact with two specific groups: MEK—People’s Mujahadin of Iran—and the larger body of
“I’ve started a tail on Thompson the moment he got off the plane. We’ll stay on him and the others. I don’t think our mission is in jeopardy, but I want to make sure.” He paused. “I’m thinking we might need them. Thompson and his people.”
“Your call. Report back to me anything you find out. We are at a critical stage. We can’t afford any screwups with so much at stake. Israel is counting on us.”
“Agreed. I’ll keep you apprised.” He cut the connection and returned his attention to the screen. “So what are you up to, Jack?”
He watched Thompson and Visiri in deep conversation. “Jack, you’ve always been a pain in my butt. How many times have I protected you and the others—and you never knew. While I admire what you’re doing, I might not always be around to save your bacon next time. Watch your back, Jack.”
Chapter 16
February 23
T ime to step out on that ledge and take a chance
.
Shakeela’s boss might crucify her, but she knew that Jack Thompson had Gerrit’s back. She could trust him.
Shakeela decided to escort the colonel all the way back to his car in spite of all the eyes focused on her this very minute. As they cleared the lobby, he turned toward her. “I can take it from here, Agent Vaziri.”
“Call me Shakeela, please, Colonel. And I am sorry about what happened back there.”
“Hey, my tail feathers are still attached. And call me Jack.”
She tried to smile, but inside she was so tense, it probably looked like a pained grimace. “I really need to talk to you, but let’s wait until we’re farther from the building.”
A darkening sky gave the place an eerie feeling, as if the secrets here attracted gloom and darkness. Lies upon lies. Grimly, she recalled the inscription on the wall inside from the book of John: “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
What a joke! Danger existed in this place because of all the lies she had been told—
or been forced to live. Something was afoot, something more sinister than she had ever confronted. Trying to get at the truth became frustrating and hazardous. Maybe Jack and Gerrit would be her salvation.
As they walked away from the building, Shakeela reached out and touched the colonel’s arm. “Hold up a minute, Jack. Before we get in earshot of your driver.”
Jack turned, waiting.
“I have to talk to someone I can trust. I know Gerrit trusts you.” She paused, trying to control her feelings. “First, Gerrit’s all right?”
Jack grinned. “That man seems to be indestructible. If he were a cat, I think he’d be working on his tenth life.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. Why did Gerrit still linger in her thoughts after all these years? “I’m thankful. He’s one of the good guys.”
“Can’t argue that point. Now, what’s troubling you?”
She glanced around, knowing others might be electronically surveilling them—including her boss. It didn’t matter. By the looks Attmire gave her, she already invited trouble—so she might as well dive in.
“You guessed right, Jack. The Agency selected me to head up efforts in Europe to make contact with certain Iranian dissidents. Due to my Iranian heritage, the CIA thought I’d be more approachable—even if I
am
a woman.” She tried to make that last comment into a joke, but it fell flat.
She resented the gender issue within her own organization. There was still the Good Ole Boy’s network in place, and she faced two strikes against her—her heritage and gender—when it came to rising within the CIA’s subculture.
“How has that worked for you?”
“Very slow going until recently. I’ve been running this cover operation for almost two years, gaining the trust of certain dissidents. Once I broke down those barriers, they started to point out to me those in their community who didn’t seem to fit. I made contact with two specific groups: MEK—People’s Mujahadin of Iran—and the larger body of
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