“Russian or not,” he said, “
everyone
is being interrogated, coming and going. You can't expect to get through at Sarakhs, or anywhere else around here.”
“I told you I'd get her through.”
“I'm worried.”
“So what's the deal, Farrokh? You told your daughter there was a good chance you'd never see her again, and now here you are.”
“I'm only trying to help.”
“I don't need your help.”
“You haven't heard?”
“What?”
“There's been an outbreak of protests in Tehran over the collapsing currency. Protests are no longer peaceful.”
“When did it turn hostile?”
“Today, early,” he told her. “Aren't you keeping up with the news?”
“We've been off the grid. What happened?”
“It started three days ago; the same day we helped your friend escape â ”
“Quiet,” she hushed him, then glanced back at the clerk who immediately caught her eye. Then she faced Farrokh again and said, “Just a minute. She's coming back,” referring to the clerk.
A moment later, the clerk was standing next to them. “The indigo scarf is lovely with your eyes. I can make you a very good offer,” the clerk said to Jordan.
“Yes,” Jordan agreed, admiring the scarf in her hands, “it is lovely. Let me think about it a moment longer.”
The clerk nodded, then stepped away to arrange some misaligned trinkets on a nearby shelf.
Jordan whispered to Farrokh. “Why don't you take Isbel and go, if you're so worried?”
“There's more,” he said.
“What?”
“I was going to stay in Iraq at my cousin's home until things quieted, but when I got there, his place was completely dark. I had just spoken with him, he had to be there, so I moved in closer and looked through the window. A couple of men, Caucasians, were sitting there in the dark, not my cousin. I headed down to a corner store and called on a pay phone. A man answered, but didn't speak, so I hung up. The next thing I knew, someone was following me.”
“So you got spooked and came back here where the authorities are looking for you. Are you crazy, Farrokh?”
“Who could possibly have known where I was going? Only my cousin knew I was coming. He's like a brother, he would never have mentioned it to anyone.”
She didn't answer. She wanted to slap the man silly. He could have found a thousand places to go. Relying on one contact for a safety pin was plain stupid. Nevertheless, she knew the answer to his troubles; it had to be the Russians who were waiting for him, and this was the work of Sonya. She wanted the man dead.
Farrokh continued. “When the rocket launch was delayed, I made contact with Fat Su â ”
“You did
what?
”
“To reassure him that everything was okay,” he tried to explain.
“Why, Farrokh?
Why?
” Her face burned with anger.
“I wanted him to bring me in right after the launch so I could be relocated. I can't stay in Iran. Not after the jailbreak.” He reached for the rack, but the fingers of his prosthetic hand failed to clasp it.
“You may have just blown our cover with the Chinese. Don't you realize that?”
“No. Don't worry.”
“Don't worry,” she mocked him.
“Really.”
“What did you tell him, Farrokh?”
“Nothing about the accident, nothing about you or anyone. All I told him was everything was a go, then he disconnected the line. I don't know why he hung up like that. Do you think the Chinese found out about me? Do you think the Chinese could have followed me to my cousin's place?”
“He hung up on you because there was to be no contact. What are you up to?”
“I'm just trying to stay alive. You're the only person I can trust.”
She thought about whether she should disclose the objective the Chinese NSB gave her. If he ran now and got out of there, she might be able to preserve him as an asset for the CIA while also convincing the Chinese she had accomplished her task. It'd kill two birds with one stone. It'd get Farrokh out of the picture and allow her to set off Libra without any further complications.
“Look,” she drew in a breath, “the Chinese never planned to bring you in.”
“What do you mean?” His eyes raced back and forth, searching her face as he twisted his prosthetic limb.
“You gave them what they wanted,” she explained. “You're done.”
“What are you saying? I no longer have
value
?” His voice rose. He was scared. “I'm an Iranian asset.”
“Were.”
She knew he understood exactly what she was saying: he was a liability that needed to be cleaned up and removed.
“Have you spoken to Fat Su?” he asked.
“No. I don't plan on making contact until this job is done.”
“Has anyone tried to contact you?”
“Of course not, what's wrong with you.”
“I can't believe it.”
“You better be telling me the truth, Farrokh. Are you sure you didn't spill the beans about Ben or Isbel? Did you say anything, anything at all, that might have tipped them off?”
“No, no. Nothing about your boy or Isbel.” He paused. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. She's fine. She will be.”
“Thank God.”
“So look, as much as I'd like to help you, I don't have time. If I were you, I'd head to South America. Somewhere the Chinese or the Iranians won't think to look for you. Once you're there, I'll get Isbel a transport.”
“I can't â ”
“Stop,” she warned him. “We don't have time for this. Let's set up a code right here and now â my contact name will be Mayflower â you can send word to me through one of our embassies. I'll tag the system to pick up your message.”
“What do you mean?” His voice was shrill. “I'm here. Let's just go back to the original plan.”
“No. We can't.”
“You need me at the silo. It'll be more efficient. We'll get the job done and head to Turkmenistan right after Libra flies. There's no reason for me to run, not now. If I do this job, Fat Su will see my value as an asset. Please, Jordan.”
“That'll never happen. Not now.”
“I need a side,” he said desperately. “I've got to have somewhere to go. You people owe me.”
“Bottom line, if you want to live, you've got to get out of here now.”
“Jordan.”
“Don't you realize that the call you just made put not only me but also
your daughter
at risk? If I don't get out of here alive, then she won't either.”
“I don't understand why I'm being labeled a liability.”
“You're being set-up to take the fall. Don't you get it?” She spelled it out to him in no uncertain terms.
“Me. I don't believe it. After I gave the Chinese the codes? Made all the arrangements. How can they do this to me?”
“That's exactly why. Think about it â you had access to the silo, you've seen too much, you know too much, you got us in, and now you're done.”
“It's the Chinese who are going down.”
“But not early in the game. That comes later. Remember, they need a reason to invade Iran. I didn't realize it at first, but I do now. They need you dead in the trap. It justifies their actions when all the players start shuffling to different sides of the board.”
“No.”
“It proves Iran started the war.”
The clerk approached them again. “I like this one,” she said to Jordan as she selected a plum-colored scarf from the rack. “It would be lovely on you.” She held it next to Jordan's face.
Jordan handed her the blue scarf. “I think I'll take them both. Would you mind wrapping them separately?” Jordan handed the clerk six-hundred thousand Rials to cover the cost.
“Yes,” the clerk said, pleased. “I'd be happy to.” She took both scarves to the counter to conclude the transaction.
With the clerk finally out of earshot again, Jordan started back in on Farrokh. “Make a choice,” she said. “Take Isbel and go, or find me once you're off the continent. You know what to do.” She looked at her watch. “So what's it going to be?”
When he didn't answer her directly, but stared stupidly into her face, she knew it was time to throw him a bone. “Look, if the Russian mob was chasing you, you won't be able to work with the Russians any longer. I'll see what I can do on our side. I'm sure the Agency could use your talents. I'll tell Fat Su I took care of business right after the launch. I'll plant your ID, the Chinese will never know you got away. That'll give you a complete wash for a new life, so consider it a gift.”
It wasn't long before the clerk returned. “Here you go, madam,” she said as she handed Jordan the packages. “Thank you.”
Out of nowhere, gunfire ripped through the open doors of the shop.
Reacting instantly, Jordan threw a hand to the clerk and told her to get down. Together, they rushed toward the counter and dove for cover.
Glass shattered. Pictures dropped from the back wall. And fabric rained through the perfumed air of the shop.
People outside the shop began screaming and running in every direction.
“
Go
.” Jordan signaled to the clerk to crawl toward the back of the shop.
Another round of bullets showered the shop. The mirror on the side wall shattered.
Jordan peered around edge of the counter. Farrokh was gone. There was no sign of the shooter.
Not taking a chance, she stayed behind the counter and crawled toward the back of the shop. If anything, she couldn't afford to be seen when the cops arrived.
The clerk was cowering beside a backdoor.
“What's out there?” Jordan asked the girl.
“An alley.”
Jordan opened the door. It was clear. “Do you know anyone on the other side who can let us in?”
“My uncle,” the clerk said, her voice trembling.
“Come on.” Jordan took her by the arm.
When they reached the uncle's place, Jordan found it was locked. She banged on the door and within moments, a man opened the door. Not waiting, she shoved the clerk inside and followed closely behind.
“What's wrong? What's going on?” the man asked as he slammed the door shut.
The girl threw herself into her uncle's arms, sobbing. “There's been a shooting.”
“It happened over there in the bazaar,” Jordan explained.
“She saved me.” The clerk looked at Jordan.
“This is awful,” the uncle said. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, but the shop was destroyed,” Jordan said.
A police siren screamed in the distance.
“Such an atrocity, who would do such a thing at a time like this?” the uncle said.
“Yes, it's just awful,” Jordan agreed. “But I'm afraid I can't stay to help you. I need to get back to my daughter. I'm worried about her.”
“Where is she?” the man asked.
“Praying at the shrine,” Jordan lied. “I'm certain she was out of harm's way, but I need to go to her.” She didn't want to be around when the police arrived. And she knew the uncle would need to go to the shop.
“Yes, of course, come out the front.” The man held out his arm and led the way.
When they emerged from the back room to the front of the shop, Jordan saw that the uncle's place of business was a small grocery. “You wouldn't happen to sell pain medication, would you?”
“Yes,” he answered. “We do.”
“I need to purchase some pain medication for my back. I have a disc problem that gives me such trouble at night.”
The man walked behind a counter. “I have just the one.” He handed her a bottle. “This one is very good.”
“Thank you.” She nodded graciously. “How much do I owe you?”
“No, please, take it. You've been so kind.”
“I hope you don't mind my asking another favor.”
“No, not at all. What can I do for you?”
“You wouldn't happen to stock penicillin, would you?” Jordan read the answer in his eyes. “My daughter has bronchitis. I was on my way to fill her prescription, but now after all this, I don't think I can make it to the pharmacy tonight. I need to get back to her. She must be terribly frightened.”
The man hesitated, then spoke to her in a lowered voice as if someone else might be trying to listen. “If you will not speak of this to anyone.”
“Of course not, I'll even go so far as to say I was never here.”
And the deal was sealed with an unspoken nod of agreement.
At the door to the shop, Jordan noticed umbrellas and canes for sale so before she left, she not only had her two scarves, each wrapped separately, and the medication for Isbel, she also had a cane for the girl to use.
As soon as she was comfortably past the shrine's complex, she glanced back in the direction of the bazaar and saw that the situation was quickly coming under control.
But that wasn't to say she understood what had just happened back at that shop. No trained agent would have missed taking her or Farrokh out cold if that was the objective. Perhaps the act was random, but that was highly unlikely.
It didn't matter; it was time to change their location.
Back at the room, Isbel was restless and in a semi-conscious state.
Jordan felt her head. The girl was hot, clammy, and her hair was soaked with sweat.
“Isbel,” Jordan tried to wake her. “Isbel,” she repeated, then gently nudged her shoulder.
Isbel rolled her head.
“Wake up,” Jordan said to her. “I have some medicine for you to take.”
Isbel opened her eyes. “What? Where am I?”
“It's me. Jordan. I'm back. I have your medicine.”
“Oh good.” Isbel coughed.
“Can you sit up? Let me help you.” Jordan helped the girl to sit upright and take the medication. Before Isbel flopped back down, Jordan told her, “We have to change rooms.”