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But, after we extract all of his secrets, we should be able to use him as a bargaining chip.”

“We have another option,” Steve said looking tentatively at LaFont as if waiting for her consent. When she nodded slightly, he directed his next comment at the president. “We could try to recruit him, or turn him as seems to be the term these days, and send him back to Tehran.”

“That does not make sense,” Baxter said smiling condescendingly at Steve.

“First,” LaFont stepped in, “we’ll see if Yosemani pulls through and lives. Our first priority of course is to debrief him thoroughly. Tehran will undoubtedly request we return him. And remember, we have a double agent and we have the possibility of convincing Tehran that Yosemani is resisting our efforts to extract intelligence from him or, on the contrary, we can paint him as a traitor. Yosemani will have a choice of spending the rest of his life in a maximum security prison here in the United States or of going back to Tehran if he agrees to cooperate. We have the capability of controlling the conditions of his return.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Baxter said. “Keep me informed. And I don’t think that is a topic fit for the oversight committees.”

“All very interesting,” Tremaine said. “But what are we going to do with the two of you? You, Steve, are already the director of my intelligence staff. But you, Kella, are obviously equally talented, and equally deserving. How can I reward you?”

“We’re still on our honeymoon, Mr. President,” Kella said. “But I can tell you right now, if Steve wants to get involved in another adventure to save the world, he’s going to do it as a bachelor. We’ve been talking about creating an extreme sport company, The Vertical Dimension. Maybe this is the time to put words into action. “

While they all grinned, Tremaine stood, went to his desk, and returned with two blue boxes, which he opened. “We have no photographers and no media folks here. ThĂ©rĂšse’s suggestion. All part of your culture, I understand. But let me acknowledge your contributions to the country, and our sincere gratitude, by giving you each the Presidential Medal of Freedom.”

He hung the coveted award, a white star with a blue circle in the middle containing thirteen golden stars on a background of five eagles, around the neck of each on a blue ribbon.

After everyone in the room shook Steve and Kella’s hands, Tremaine said, “There’s another thing I’m going to offer you, which I will not allow you to refuse.” Looking toward Marshall, he asked, “What if we held that wedding reception across the street at Blair House?”

“I’ll check with Kate, but I’m sure it will be all right with her. What do you think, Kella?” Marshall asked, as she walked up to the two of them.

“Blair House? I thought that was only for affairs of state.”

“So that’s settled. Now I have another topic for you, Marshall. I would like you to be an adviser to my negotiating team with Iran. I would ask Steve as well, but staying on good terms with Kella is one of my priorities.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” LaFont said, “but I wanted to ask Marshall about his health.”

“I do have news,” Marshall said. “I learned yesterday I’ve been accepted in a clinical trial. Double-blind and all that, so I won’t know whether I’m getting the real drug or the placebo. Phase 1 determined the drug is safe and Phase 2 concluded it was successful among a small sample of patients. This will be Phase 3, with thousands of patients in the United States, Europe, and Australia. Eighteen months. The good news is the pharmaceutical company is betting big on this drug. So I hope they’re making a good business decision.”

On the other side of the room, Baxter asked Steve, “You know, our party could use some new blood in Virginia, where you’re a resident, right?”

“Politics? I do believe in certain principles, but I’ve never planned to go into politics.”

“What principles, exactly?”

“I’ve never—this could be my elevator speech on that topic—I believe in the basic freedoms: thought, speech, religion. In free-enterprise capitalism. And in equality of opportunity, rather than equality of outcome. But politics is not my thing. I’m going to make a life with Kella.”

“What about the Red Cell?” Baxter asked, raising his voice. “Both the president and I think it’s the most important tool in our kit. We want you to take it over.”

“You heard Kella. I’ll take it on until you find somebody else. In the meantime, I’m going to become Yosemani’s ‘best friend,’ his lifeline. According to his bio, he’s an ambitious guy, and I’m sure he’d prefer to be wheeling and dealing in Tehran than to be in a maximum security prison in Colorado.”

AFTERWORD

I started this book last year but had to put it aside when ALS deprived me of my ability to type. I resumed it this spring, having exceeded my predicted lifespan and having obtained the necessary dictating software. More crucial, Judy Ortiz volunteered to spend many hours with me every week to fill in for the many shortcomings of the software. This book could not have come to life without her.

The main characters of The Red Cell, Steve and Kella, continue to spearhead the CIA’s clandestine operations as they did in the first two books of this trilogy, The Caliphate and Satan’s Spy. Steve is modeled after our son, Christopher, who died in a plane crash during his honeymoon and who had all of Steve’s skills and qualities but never worked for the CIA. Kella, a fictional character, was brought back to life after comments from her fans. Yosemani is modeled after General Qasem Soleimani, the actual commander of Iran’s Quds Force.

Although other characters are either fictional or composites, several are not. Kate

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