The Red Cell André Gallo (essential reading .txt) 📖

and disrespected with impunity. Iran had to take a highly visible punitive action. While the diplomats could talk endlessly at the United Nations, he, the commanding general of the Quds Force, would inflict a critical blow to the enemy.

He slept fitfully, waiting for the call from Germany that never came. The next morning, he unmuted the TV as soon as he woke up. Once again, he suffered through the soccer scores, when a different anchor interrupted the program.

“We have just learned the passengers aboard the Iran Air flight, which was intercepted by American fighter aircraft that forced the passenger plane to land at Ramstein Air Force Base yesterday, included V.A. Dalton, American President Tremaine’s chief of staff. Our reporters have been trying to interview her, but base officials have not returned our phone calls. We have an unconfirmed report one passenger was taken off the plane on a stretcher. More details as soon as we have them.”

Yosemani jumped on the phone and called the Iranian Embassy in Berlin again. Reaching the ambassador, he said, “This is General Yosemani. I am in Brussels. Tell me everything you know about the American insult last night. Who was the passenger taken off on a stretcher?”

“I have been in touch with the Pakistani Embassy, which handles our affairs with the Americans, although the normal channel is not here in Berlin but in Tehran. Anyway, the Pakistani Ambassador has been on the phone on our behalf. It appears the person on the stretcher was an American, but there were no Americans on the passenger list. That’s all I can tell you at the moment.”

“Stop being a diplomat,” he yelled into the phone. “Be effective! Why are you wasting your time with the Pakistanis, when you should be calling the captain of the aircraft directly?”

“Yes, sir.”

Half an hour later, the phone rang again. It was the ambassador to Belgium. “General, Sir, I have some tragic news. As you know, Aisha was on the flight with me. I assume you have seen the news. The Americans intercepted our plane and illegally forced us to land at their base in Germany. Just as our plane was landing, I heard a shot. She shot herself. May Allah keep her soul.”

“Not, not possible,” Yosemani stuttered after a moment of shocked silence. “Your information is false…the Americans are lying. Do your job. The first information is always wrong.”

“I was there, sir. I’m sorry to confirm she is dead, May Allah have her soul.”

Yosemani hung up and let himself fall on the bed. He let his eyes stare through the wall before allowing his head to fall into his hands. He stayed hunched over for several minutes imagining the scene on the plane and the desperation Aisha must have felt.

He eventually went to the bathroom and ran water over his face, his mind turning to action as he dried his face. First, whatever form his revenge would take, he would not leave the implementation to others who might—who would, like DuChemin—fail. He would be the tip of the spear, as he had been so many times before during the Iraq Iran war. He also decided he would strike the American homeland. He would make them bleed for this.

31. The ‘Croatians’

“We’re beginning to know this airport very well,” Kella said, as she and Steve walked toward their Air France flight.

“I don’t know why you’re so concerned we’d miss our wedding,” Steve said. “We’re going to be in Paris a full day before.”

“Yes, a smokeless wedding, right? I don’t want you to ruin my gown. Our daughter Jacqueline is going to want to use it.”

He added, “Daughter? Our son, Marshall, is not going to look good in a dress.”

“In any case, I want to keep it in good shape. I might have to use it again. Oh wait,” she said as they approached the Tintin store. “Let’s go in here. We still have plenty of time.”

“Good idea. Our son’s first book.”

They were browsing in the back of the store, when Kella grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled him behind a bookcase. “Look,” she said, crouching down slightly, and pointing past the cashier toward the crowded concourse. “That’s Gold Glasses, one of my jailers. I don’t know the other guy.”

Steve looked where she was pointing and saw the two men in the crowd heading toward the departure gates. One was tall and clean-shaven, wearing sunglasses and a N.Y. Yankees cap. The other indeed wore gold rimmed glasses and was smaller and younger than his companion.

“Well, if he’s one of Yosemani’s bodyguards, the general can’t be too far away,” Steve said. He led Kella out of the store and, hiding behind other passengers, they began to follow Gold Glasses and his comrade. “Yosemani has a beard, black, turning to white. But a beard can be shaven. I wonder where they’re going.” Steve guided Kella so they could observe the two men from the side. “You don’t see a lot of people with sunglasses in rainy Brussels. Or Yankee fans, either. That’s a felony right there.”

A moment later, the two men were standing in line at the Air France gate.

“I don’t believe it,” Kella said. “They’re getting on our flight. They’re going to Paris. What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to get on the plane. I think the big guy is Yosemani—in fact, I’d bet on it. I don’t know if they’d recognize us, but I think you should put on more makeup to hide those bruises. We need to find out what kind of passports they are using. Then I can call headquarters. Why don’t you go to the ladies’ room and I’ll check us in.”

Steve dug into his carryon, found his Washington Redskins cap, and put it on. Two can play this game, he thought. “I’d like to talk to those two men who you just checked in,” he told