Protect and defend by Vince Flynn Page B

anything that led the people away from the roots of the revolution. Less known to the people, and the world at large, was the fact that Najar had been locking horns with President Amatullah with increasing frequency.
    Looking back on it now Ashani could see that the Supreme Leader had elevated Najar to the council so he could act as a bulwark against the increasingly bellicose and popular Amatullah. The one steadfast rule of modern Iranian politics was that the Supreme Leader did not get his hands dirty. As the religious leader of Iran, he had a duty to stay above the fray.
    Najar moved quickly across the room to where Ashani was sitting. He was wearing a long, black qabba and a white turban. His beard was mostly ashen with patches of dark gray along each side of his mouth. He looked down at Ashani, who was trying to get up, and said, “Don’t you dare move. I can’t believe you are here.”
    “I am fine,” Ashani responded.
    Najar reached out and clasped Ashani’s right hand in both of his. “You should be in the hospital.”
    “It won’t hurt me to sit and listen.”
    “I will do the talking for both of us. You don’t need to worry about that.”
    Ashani smiled. “Thank you.”
    The minister of foreign affairs and the chief of the Supreme Command Council of the Armed Forces entered the room with the vice president of Atomic Energy on their heels. All three men looked sullen, none more so than the vice president of atomic energy. The full council had eighteen members plus the Supreme Leader, but this evening only the executive council had been asked to attend the high level meeting. All of them had heard of Ashani’s near-death experience. Some expressed genuine relief that he had been saved. Others feigned concern. The problem for Ashani was that they were all such practiced liars he couldn’t tell who was sincere, and who was merely politicking.
    President Amatullah entered the room five minutes late, as usual. Trailing on his right was Major General Zarif of the Islamic Republican Guards Corps, and on his left was Brigadier General Suleimani of the Quds Force. Ashani would have liked to think it was merely coincidence that Amatullah had entered the room with the two military men who would be in charge of making Iran’s enemies pay for the attack, but he knew the diminutive politician too well.
    Amatullah was barely over the threshold when he announced, “Well, gentlemen, we finally have our excuse to push the Zionist dogs into the ocean.”
    Ashani stared at the vertically challenged president in his boxy, ill-fitting suit. It was one thing to lie to the press and the people; it was an entirely different matter to have the audacity to do so to men who knew better. Everyone was now seated except Amatullah, the two generals, and the head of the Guardian Council. Ashani slowly turned to witness Najar’s reaction.
    The fiery cleric looked through his tinted glasses at Amatullah and said, “And with what do you propose we push them into the sea?”
    Amatullah remained unflinching. “General Zarif has assured me that the Republican Guard is ready and willing to fight. Over five hundred thousand men. The Jews will be lucky to field an army of a hundred thousand.”
    “And how will we get them there?” Najar asked with unbridled contempt. “Should we ask the Americans if we can march them across Iraq? Or should we put them on magical troop transports and float them through the Suez Canal? Do you think the Jews would allow us to put all of our men ashore, or do you think they might sink the transports while they are at sea?”
    Amatullah gathered himself and in a reasonable tone said, “I was not implying that we could begin military action tomorrow or even next week. I am simply saying that the Jews and the Americans have committed an act of war and we must make them pay for it.”
    “I am in complete agreement, but let’s not delude ourselves into thinking that we are going to push the Jews into the