Siro David Ignatius (best e ink reader for manga TXT) 📖

room, then narrowed his eyes and said in a whisper: “Mafia.”

“Mafia?” demanded Anna. “Who? The Italian Mafia?”

“Shhh,” said Ali. “Not so loud.”

“But that’s absurd. Why would the Mafia work with a group of Iranian revolutionaries? I’m sorry, Mr. Ascari, but that doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Ascari drained his glass of whiskey, rose from the couch, and walked unsteadily to the phone table, where he had left the whiskey bottle. He poured himself another drink, spilling more on the table than in the glass.

“Let’s have a drink. Okay?”

“You’ve had enough,” said Anna. “No more whiskey.”

“Hey, lady, you go to hell. Nobody tell Ali Ascari what to do.” He took a long drink, spilling some of it on his chin.

“What evidence do you have that the Mafia is involved?”

“No evidence. Forget it. This is boring subject. We talk about something else.”

“Wait a minute. This is important. I’ve come all the way from London to talk to you about the assassination plot. I want information.”

“They have been caught!” whispered Ascari as he wobbled back across the room toward the couch.

“Who?”

“The assassins. The Khomeini men. After we talk before in London, they were caught. Now they are in prison.”

“Who caught them?”

“Other Khomeini men. Good ones. My friends. They catch the bad ones. Thanks to me!”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

Ali sat back on the couch. There was a dreamy, drunken look in his eyes. “Do you like my jacket?” he asked. “It is silk. Very expensive.”

“What about the Mafia? Did you make that up?”

“Ali Ascari make nothing up!”

“My friends have ways of finding out whether you are telling the truth or not. You know that, don’t you? They have a machine. It is impossible to lie to them.”

“Take off your jacket,” said Ali. “Be comfortable. You worry too much. You will get a heart attack and die.”

“Cut the crap, goddammit!” said Anna loudly. “I want information!”

“Please, lady. Do not take name of God for swear word. Don’t ever do that. Please! Ali might get upset. Now relax, and I will tell you some real informations. Very big secrets! Take off your shoes. Maybe your feet are hurting.”

“My feet are not hurting. What are the big secrets?”

“About Soviet Union,” said Ascari with a calculating smile. “About Moslem people in Soviet Union.”

“I’m listening,” said Anna.

“Ah, see! I knew you would be interested. Now you listen good to what Ali tell you. A big problem is coming for Soviet Union. Big explosion! Moslem people are going to fight Russian people. Civil war maybe.”

“What are you talking about?” said Anna. It sounded like more of Ascari’s craziness.

“Hey! You listen. Ali Ascari knows what he is talking about. Moslem men in Soviet Union ready to fight! We send them guns. We send them Korans.”

“Who sends them guns?”

“Khomeini men. Afghan men. Pakistani men. Saudi men. All Moslem men want to help brothers fight Russians.”

“Hold on, hold on. What are you telling me? That Iran is sending guns across the border into the Soviet Union?”

“Oh yes! There is an army of Moslem brothers who move across the border. It is a great secret!”

“How do you know about it?”

Ascari leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “I told you before. I am an Azeri man! My father is from Baku. I have cousins across the border. Believe me, lady. I know.”

“Guns across the border?” repeated Anna. As she said it again, she thought of someone who would be quite interested in this piece of information. Mr. Edward Stone, dean of the old boys, sender of obscure Turkic monographs, job title unknown.

“Yes, guns. And other things.”

“What other things?”

“Oh, you know. Videotapes. Radios. VCRs. Why not? We are traders in our part of the world. So we trade.”

“I know,” said Anna. “I’ve noticed that, actually. Now listen, Mr. Ascari, this had better not be more of your lies. Because if it is, you’re finished.”

“Trust me!” said Ali indignantly. He put his hand on his heart. “Maybe not everything I tell you about assassination is true. Okay. Maybe not everything. But I want to get your attention. Because I know so many things. I have my own spies. Like tonight, my friends Abdel-Aziz and Sami. They know too many things. Whatever you want to know about Saudi Arabia and Lebanon, they can tell you. Who is new mistress of Saudi king? Who is paying who in Lebanon to make trouble. They tell me and I tell you. Easy pie! I can be your helper. And you need help, you know that? You Americans really make a big mess. Ali Ascari help you clean it up. What you say?”

“I don’t know what to say,” said Anna. “I’ll have to talk about all this with my friends back at the embassy.”

“Uh-huh,” grunted Ascari. “You messenger lady, I know.” He gave a wink and looked at the attaché case again. “So what you bring me, huh? What surprise you have for Ali Ascari?”

Anna picked the attaché case up off the floor. She thought a moment. She wasn’t sure anymore that Ascari had earned his money. She didn’t know which version of the assassination plot was true, if any of them. She certainly didn’t know if the business about arms shipments across the Iranian border was true. But she had brought the cash all the way to Istanbul to give to Ascari, and she wasn’t about to take it back.

Anna clicked open the locks on the case. Ascari sat up in his chair like an attentive puppy. The prospect of receiving money seemed to have a salutary effect on his disposition.

“First, I have a gift for you.” She flipped up the lid, removed the worn book on Azeri holy places, and handed it to Ascari.

“Oh yes. What is it, please?”

“A book.”

“Oh yes, very nice. What else you bring me?”

“My friends thought you would like the book. It’s very rare.”

“Very nice, thank you, lady. But Ali Ascari doesn’t read too much.” He opened to the title page, as much out of politeness as anything else. Then his eyes