Strike Inside

By David N. Thomas II

When David Fleming meets the beautiful Priya Khobari while on a UN Nuclear Inspection detail in Iran, he didn't expect to be caught up in an international conspiracy that would bring nuclear weapons to the United States. Now, he and a group of Delta Force Operatives must protect Priya and her family, including her Father who built the device, from both the Iranian Military and rogue operatives of the Central Intelligence Agency as they race to reach the United States in time to stop the bombs from destroying the nation's capital and plunging both nations into an all-out war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David N. Thomas II
• Release date: Aug 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370693245

David N. Thomas II

My name is David N Thomas II and I retired from the U.S. Army as a Staff Sergeant in 2013 and am now living in Upstate New York. I spent 26 years in the Army both as an Infantryman and as a Chaplain's Assistant, and have had numerous security jobs since then. I enjoy travel, skiing, scuba diving and camping.

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Prologue

New York City

1900 hours, 10 August 2014

The man walked down the plush black and gold carpet towards his room muttering oaths under his breath as he searched his soaked overcoat for his room’s access card. It had been another exercise in futility and he was beginning to doubt the orders he’d been given. He already considered his assignment a failure: he’d been here two days and his contact had failed to show up as expected and now, after sitting at a small cafe, the mother of all cloud bursts had erupted as he walked the three city blocks back to his hotel.

He was thoroughly soaked and extremely pissed off. 

He couldn’t control the weather, he conceded, but he could at least try to salvage something from this evening. A few stiff drinks down at the Hotel’s bar would be a good start then maybe some female companionship for the rest of the evening after a long, hot shower.

He stopped in front of his door and located the room’s key card. He shook the rain from his jacket before taking it off and draped it across a soaked arm. He slid the card into its slot, nudged the door open with his hip and stepped inside then turned to be sure the door closed behind him before tossing the sodden jacket onto the floor near the rooms’ leather sofa.

He turned to face the room again and froze: his eyes taking in the stranger standing before him and the large stiletto slicing through the air towards his throat.

The blade sliced through the flesh of his throat, severing the carotid artery, opening up his trachea and spraying crimson blood across the room. He stumbled backwards, his hands reaching desperately for his throat to stop the fatal spray. The assassin moved quickly around him and kicked him forward onto the carpet. 

He straddling the dying man and stabbed him again through the back of the neck. He savagely jerked the knife sideways to sever the spine and the man went completely limp. He waited a few seconds before he withdrew the knife, wiping it clean on the man’s jacket before standing up. He took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart then opened the room’s door slightly, peering cautiously out to see if they’d attracted any attention.

When he was satisfied he slowly closed the door.

He stepped around the corpse and walked into the suite’s bathroom.  He stripped naked, carefully placing his clothes in the shower and soaking them before taking a shower and thoroughly cleaning himself. He used a small scrub brush to clean under his fingernails and washed himself one more time, leaving no trace of DNA in case the unthinkable happened. He stepped out of the shower and looked at himself in the mirror. Tall, olive skinned with a shaved head and a well-muscled, lean body that was the product of years of training.

He walked into the bedroom, pulled the dead man’s briefcase out from under the desk and placed it on the desk to examine it. He used a security code he’d been provided with to open the locks. Inside sat a folder with papers as well as a sealed tube and a small USB stick which he removed. He opened the folder and examined the contents before nodding and closed the case once more.

Everything promised was in there, he thought and a rare smile appeared on his face as he stood.

He walked to the rooms’ closet and found a perfectly tailored Grey Armani suit and silk shirt waiting for him along with a pair of black patent leather loafers. He smiled as he changed into the suit, enjoying the feel of silk against his skin and knew he’d be buy some of these in the future.

He took his time to check the room once more time for anything that would indicate his presence there, knowing that to rush would result in mistakes. Besides, he thought, he had more than enough time to catch his plane out of the country. A team was standing by to come sanitize the room and remove any trace of the body but he still didn’t trust the Americans despite their efficiency in this whole operation.

They did many things very well but inspiring trust was not one of them. The fallout of what he’d just done and what he now had in his possession would have global ramifications if the connection was made.

Ten minutes later, the he was walking down the hallway, metal briefcase and soft sided overnight bag in hand into the luxurious hotel’s lobby. He wandered up to the reception desk to order an airport shuttle before heading into the bar for a drink while he waited. The suite had been reserved for three more days so nobody would have any reason to go in prior to the cleanup crew’s arrival.

He took a seat at the smoky glass bar and smiled at the bartender, a blonde woman he judged to be in her early thirties, wearing a white tuxedo shirt and black skirt. He ordered a drink and glanced casually at his Rolex. As he waited he slipped a phone from his pocket and sent a text message before slipping it back.

His senses were on high alert now.

This was when he was the most exposed and he used the mirror behind the bar to watch behind him for signs of danger. Would they go back on their word and come after him? Was all of this a setup to expose him? He could detect nobody taking notice of him and he slowly calmed down as the bartender brought him his drink in a large frosted goldfish bowl shaped glass. He paid for the drink, tipping her a twenty as he took a drink.

He was most of the way through the drink when a Porter approached and informed him that his shuttle had arrived. After tipping the man he finished the drink and headed for the double doors leading to the street. A Doorman held the door to a black limousine shuttle open for him and he smiled as he dropped in, leaving the man a nice tip.

Kennedy, please, he told the driver when asked and relaxed as he felt the alcohol calming him. Take your time, I’m in no rush.

The limousine entered traffic and he reflected on the assignment for a moment. He considered the implications, both good and bad of what he had in his possession. He had to admit that the Americans could be either blundering idiots or coldly efficient. Still, he thought, this was one hell of a risk they were all taking.

There was only one way this would end and he wasn’t particularly concerned.

PART ONE: OPENING MOVES

CHAPTER ONE:

Tehran, Iran

1130 hours (Local), June 15, 2023

The trip from New York to Tehran had been an exhausting one.

The United Nations Charter aircraft was now in a holding pattern: prolonged by debates between the United Nations pilot and the Iranian Air Traffic Controller on the ground concerning whether they had permission to land. After nearly an hour of circling overhead a call from the United Nations to the Iranian President had settled the matter and they were finally granted permission to land.

The Inspectors from the International Atomic Energy Agency were not in a pleasant mood: having travelled nearly eighteen hours to get there with only a brief stopover in London. Their security detail was also itching to get off the plane, more to get away from their charges incessant complaining and debating than anything else.

When the plane finally reached its designated parking area a dozen black Bentley limousines were waiting for them. A company of Iranian Soldiers cordoned off the area around the plane while an additional platoon of soldiers waited in armed jeeps to escort them to their hotel. The Inspectors were men and women from various countries and were highly respected scientists in their fields. For most of them, this was another in a series of inspections they had undertaken in conjunction with the latest round of nuclear negotiations.

From what they had heard prior to departing New York City, this round of inspections was expected to be no different and they could expect the usual resistance and delay.

Citing complications with security on prior inspections the Iranian government had, to everyone’s surprise, agreed to let the inspectors bring their own armed security detail. The team accompanying them was a mixed bag of US Delta Force and British Special Air Service Troopers: all of whom had had extensive bodyguard, language and customs training to prepare for the six-month assignment. All had been to Iran in the past as part of previous operations or assignments and knew the area intimately.

They disembarked the plane and the high desert heat and densely polluted air nearly suffocated them as they waited at the bottom of the stairs. A truck pulled up next to the 767s cargo hold to receive luggage. They knew their luggage would arrive after an extensive inspection and that surveillance devices had already been placed in their hotel rooms.

A pair of uniformed Customs officials greeted them at the bottom of the stairs and checked passports and UN identification cards before letting them proceed to the air-conditioned limos. Satisfied that all was in order they were soon in their cars watching the first of their bags being unloaded from the aircraft before they were whisked away towards downtown Tehran.

One of the Americans in the lead limo and checked his watch. An Army Delta Force Operator named David Fleming, he’d volunteered for one last special assignment before retiring at the end of a twenty-four year career. He was an inch under six feet tall with broad shoulders, a trim waist and powerful legs that still consistently propelled him around at a six-minute per mile pace. He had dark brown hair cut into a flattop with dark leathery skin that had seen lots of sun and piercing grey eyes. He had a loose smile that hid a deadly serious manner and intensity.

So, when are you going to request that we conduct an inspection of their Arkadan plant, Dr. Ramirez? he asked, It is the one area that your Agency has not looked at in the last two inspections.

Sergeant Major Fleming, the woman facing him started in exaggerated exhaustion.

Sergeant First Class, actually, Doc, he corrected her, intentionally annoying her with the doc abbreviation.

Whatever, she said angrily. We’ve gone over this before. The Arkadan facility was never completed and no more construction is planned there. The project has been scrapped.

Uh huh, he said with a roll of his eyes, and you know this how? Because the satellite photos are NEVER wrong and the Iranians would never lie about such a thing, correct? I know you have doctorates in science that are LIGHT YEARS beyond my comprehension but please don’t tell me you are naive enough to believe any of their horse shit.

They had been going rounds on the subject for hours on the flight over.

Prior to boarding in New York, and again in London, Fleming and his team had received intelligence briefings from the directors of both British Intelligence’s MI-6 and the Central Intelligence Agency that something was in the works at the Arkadan Nuclear Research Facility three hours east of Tehran that nobody could put a finger on.

Whatever was going on had the full backing of the Ayatollah and involved the Head of the Iranian Atomic Energy Research Agency. They had also seen at least two of the top scientists in their suspected nuclear weapons program at the location: usually entering and exiting under the cover of darkness.

However, even confronted with these suspicions Doctor Amelia Ramirez, the usually composed and open-minded director of the UN Inspection Team was still stubbornly unwilling to veer from the carefully planned schedule of inspections that the Iranian government dictated to them. In her mind, following the schedule and not pushing the issue of compliance with the Iranians was more important than asking about facilities that were no longer in use. She felt lucky to have any kind of cooperation at all from the Iranians and didn’t want to put it in jeopardy.

Well, it has been nearly two years since your teams have looked at the site. I still think it is worth checking out even though they say it has been scrapped. There are a lot of people out there that could get into a site like that and find something dangerous enough to steal. Of course, Fleming added, I doubt anyone would get far with anything, Security is very tight here: I’d hate to tangle with the Iranians over a piece of metal piping or something less important just to prove a point.

Well, Sergeant Fleming, she said with a sigh as she turned to look at him. I’m the one making the decisions and you are here to make sure nobody shoots me or any of my people. I’d prefer if you limited your comments and your attention to THAT subject if you don’t mind?

Fleming flashed a lopsided smile and shrugged.

Well, I suppose I’ve had worse assignments than guarding an attractive scientist for a couple of months.

He looked out the window at the mountains that rose beyond the high-rises of Tehran as her jaw dropped.

Amelia Ramirez was in her late 40s but looked to be in her late 20s, with a trim hour glass figure, tan skin and perfect makeup at all times. Her premature salt and pepper hair was colored jet black and pulled back into a pony tail that stretched halfway down her back. Her Puerto Rican heritage had graced her with perfect high cheek bones and narrow jawline that sported a smile of perfect teeth. She loved swimming and running and had been a fitness fanatic all her life and looked more like a model than a Nuclear Physicist with multiple doctorates.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into an underground parking lot and were dropped off one car at a time. They were ushered into a large, plush lounge where a long marble table was piled high with food and a variety of fruit juices, teas and coffees. They were invited to eat and drink as the rest of their group gradually assembled to enjoy their share of the lavish buffet. Fleming helped himself to several cups of Turkish coffee and swore he could feel his arm hairs starting to stand on end as he moved around the buffet, discreetly keeping Ramirez within a few arm lengths of him.

After about half an hour of snacking and looking around Fleming had each camera spotted and had a good idea of where three listening device were located. There was, Fleming realized, nowhere in this room that was not covered at some angle by a camera.

Their hosts: a dozen scientists and their assistants from the Atomic Energy Research Agency walked into the room and joined them. They mingled and talking in a surprisingly laid back manner and Fleming remembered from past experience that most of them already knew each other. Security concerns forbid them from mingling and conversing with each other except in a strictly controlled environment such as this.

Other security team members were eyeing the Iranians and trying to detect a plant but to Fleming they all seemed genuine. He decided to leave Ramirez and move closer to the nearest pair: an elderly man and younger woman who seemed to be his assistant and kept a few steps behind him. As in most Muslim countries the woman was covered and wore a white Burkha with an intricately designed veil of beads that distorted her face.

A conversation struck up between the Iranian and a Swedish professor on their team that turned into a heated debate about levels of enriched plutonium and its potential for producing weapons. The conversation, boring as it was to Fleming convinced him that the Iranian was genuine and he stepped away.

He bumped the woman and feigned surprise.

I apologize, Ma’am. He used a fake Texas accent that came out slightly exaggerated. Conversation back there is a little boring and I wasn’t paying attention.

The woman he judged to be in her early thirties, giggled slightly and nodded.

I know the feeling. Mister…

Fleming bit his tongue to keep from responding.

Muslim women were forbidden to talk to any man not related to them and this one was asking for his name? A plant? He couldn't be sure but years of field experience was telling him to proceed with caution.

My name is David Fleming. After moment of hesitation he added. Forgive me, I realize it is forbidden to speak to...

Yes, that is a Muslim requirement, just as this is, she said in a reassuring voice indicating the veil. I hate wearing it. It is okay for you to speak to me here, Mister Fleming. I am not Muslim but I must follow their rules in public because of my father’s position.

He let out a sigh and looked carefully around the room. The Soldiers at the entrance weren’t paying any attention to what was going on: they were merely deflecting the occasional wandering body back into the room or pointing to the location of a restroom.

So, what is your name, if you don’t mind my asking?

I am Priya Khobari, she answered politely and motioned to the short, elderly man with a cane standing ahead of her. That is my father, Jamal Khobari.

The name clicked in Fleming’s mind.

According to the intelligence briefings Jamal Khobari was one of their top research scientists. They suspected him of pioneering their weapons research and steering it in more unconventional directions. His mind sharpened quickly and his suspicions rose just as quickly.

Well, it is certainly an unexpected pleasure meeting you, Miss Khobari, he said with a smile and gestured to the people around them. I wasn't expecting to find someone worth talking to while I was here. Do you work with your father?

I help with some of his research, she admitted shyly, looking away. Are you here as someone’s bodyguard? You don’t seem the scientific type.

Fleming laughed, finding the observation quite amusing and unexpected.

So what do you do? she pressed, laughing at his reaction. Am I correct?

Yes, I’m part of the security team, he admitted with a nod. Your military already has people to watch out for our inspectors but we wanted to be extra cautious in case something unfortunate should happen. With the negotiations going on at the same time there is a lot more at stake: it would prove disastrous for everyone involved if something happened to them. I’m sure you understand.

In this country, Mr. Fleming, security is something I understand all too well. Here, even the toilets have ears, and probably eyes, Priya answered with a shrug. It is an accepted part of life in Tehran.

You don’t seem too pleased to be here.

My father has special status here, even though he is not Muslim, she explained. We are protected. We have our own home with gardens and a security force so nobody can harm us.

Sounds like you are trapped rather than protected, he pointed out and she looked at him for a moment.

He thought he saw a touch of sadness behind her veiled eyes and she turned away.

May I ask where you are from? Priya asked him and he was about to answer when a loud voice beckoned for their attention.

They all turned towards the entrance where a tall man stood with a small wireless microphone in his hand. Fleming looked him over as best he could from across the room, noticed the rank and accouterments for the Iranian Special Forces unit on his chest: the Commanding Officer.

On behalf of my government and our holy leader, the Grand Ayatollah, I want to personally welcome all of you to Tehran. My name is Colonel Hamid Mahmoud and your safety is my sole purpose while you are in our Great Islamic Republic. If you have any security concerns please address them to any of my men. They will pass them along to me and I will explain anything and answer any questions you may have. If you wish to make changes in your schedule, these requests need to be presented to me at least 48 hours in advance with a justifiable explanation.

My men have brought your bags to your rooms so you may go up at your leisure. There is nothing planned for today until dinner tonight at 1900 in the main ballroom. There you will be addressed by our Holy Leader and President in person, he said in a clipped English accent.

He set the microphone down in on a table and walked out of the room without another word.

David watched him leave silently and turned to Priya who seemed frozen with fear.

Miss Khobari? Are you okay? he asked, not wanting to breach protocol by touching her.

She shook her head a few seconds later, realizing she’d frozen and tuned him out.

Yes? Yes, I’m fine.

Who was that? he asked innocently.

He’d already received a full briefing on the Iranian Colonel before they’d left the United States.

He is a very powerful man in the military, Mr. Fleming. Her voice turned cold as turned to him. I hope to see you again, Mr. Fleming, perhaps during the inspections?

I certainly hope so, Miss Khobari. He noted her detachment and detected…fear? in her voice. I will definitely be here.

She turned and moved quickly away to catch up to her father and he watched after her for a few seconds. He made his way leisurely around the room back to Dr. Ramirez who was talking pleasantly with another Iranian scientist. He selected a few slices of melon and some fruit juice watched the others around him as he ate. Eventually Priya and her father made their way to talk with Ramirez but she wouldn’t acknowledge him other than a brief nod when introduced.

Fleming thought about her situation.

He understood her fear in this kind of society where, if caught, she’d be subjected to Sharia law that endorsed public beatings and even honor killing for a woman who spoke to a man not a member of her family. He never understood or agreed with the law and considered the thought process behind it as a way to enslave others.

Well, he thought, I’ll see her a lot more if her father is going to be hand in hand with Ramirez.

Eventually the group broke up and headed up to their rooms.

Fleming escorted Ramirez upstairs to her room, which was connected by an inner door to his own. He entered the room and looked around. The living area was spacious, with a curved window that covered an entire wall facing the craggy peaks of the Alborz Mountains north of the city that even now had a few snow-tipped peaks. A plush leather couch set formed a U around a grey marble coffee table and faced an eighty-inch flat screen television mounted on the wall opposite them. A modern metal and glass desk situated at one end of the room and a well-stocked mini bar completed the layout.

He walked slowly about the room, carefully searching behind couches, bar and table but found no threats. He finally allowed Ramirez into the room and made sure she locked the door behind her. He pushed open the double doors to her bedroom and peered carefully inside to check for anyone waiting in ambush.

He crossed the threshold quickly and took three steps backwards to face the blind spots behind the doors but found no one. He scanned the room, taking in the plush king size bed, walk-in closets and a set of ornate wooden dressers that dominated one wall. A doorway covered by beads led to the bathroom.

He moved around the bed, noting that her two suitcases were standing neatly to the side of the closet and entered the bathroom. The floor was covered with black and white marble tiles and the soft rubber of his boots gripping it easily.

The bathroom was large and lavish with a large jetted bathtub, a walk-in shower, a counter with two sinks and a toilet in its own separate room. He walked out of the room and back into the living room. He looked out the window, found the controls to close the automatic blinds and turned on the overhead lights.

The blinds began to close around the huge window.

Why did you close those? Amelia protested. The view was amazing.

If you can see out then a sniper can see in, Dr. Ramirez. We’re in Iran, not the United States. We are considered the enemy here, regardless of what you and your scientist friends want to believe. He explained and she opened her mouth to protest. I realize we are here at the invitation of the Iranian government but they cannot, despite all their rhetoric, guarantee your safety. There are plenty of anti-government organizations who would love nothing more than to embarrass the government by assassinating some prominent UN Scientist investigating their nuclear weapons program.

Aren’t you being just a tad bit paranoid? she asked sarcastically and reached for the controls.

His hand closed over hers and stopped her. His hand felt warm against hers and she looked at him, surprised by his resistance.

Maybe, but it has kept me alive so far, he said with a smile. Please trust me, Dr. Ramirez. I’ve been doing this for a number of years now and I don’t plan on having anything happen to you because I didn’t take all the precautions. All you have to do is trust me. If I need to step in for any reason just do as I say and trust that I will explain it to you later.

She opened her mouth to protest then stopped and her features softened. She sighed and nodded.

You are right, Sergeant and I do appreciate you reminding me of the reality here.

Please, call me David or Mr. Fleming, he said and she smiled. No mention of rank.

Okay, so long as you call me Amelia.

David nodded silently and removed his hand.

Please keep connecting door unlocked so that I can get to you in an emergency. You don’t need to keep it open, just unlocked. If you need me or suspect something is wrong just come get me or shout and I will be in here in a heartbeat, okay?

She nodded.

I don’t think there’s a need to worry about anything. If someone can get past all the Iranian soldiers outside our doors then there won’t be much more you can do to stop them anyway.

She turned to head back to her bedroom.

He passed through the connecting door and entered his suite. He headed towards the bedroom, shrugging off his sport coat and draping it across the back of a couch as he passed it. He flopped down on the huge king-size bed with a sigh. He glanced at his watch and set it for local time.

Plenty of time before dinner, so what’ll it be, nap or shower?

He debated this for a few moments before he sat up and swung out of bed: heading into the bathroom for a much-needed shower before he made any further decisions and quickly stripped down. He walked into the shower, turned the water on then stepped out to look for towels. He found some hanging on a rod next to a plush white robe. He turned and stepped back into the shower as steam began to fill the room.

CHAPTER TWO

David slipped into his tuxedo jacket: the form fitting black silk jacket was snug at the waist but loose around the shoulders where his Sig Sauer .40 caliber pistol sat in a rip-away holster. He entered Amelia’s room after knocking and caught her walking out of her bedroom already dressed in a black pleated skirt, with a simple white blouse and black jacket. She wore a string of pearls around her graceful neck and simple silver bracelets on both wrists. She was more concerned, he knew, about impressing people with her work rather than her looks and made a conscious effort to downplay them.

Wow, he said with a grin. Beautiful and on time? I’ve never met THAT combination before.

Amelia laughed, flashed him the finger and picked up a simple black leather purse hanging on a braided gold chain strap, slipping it over her shoulder.

Anything I should know before we go down? Anything I should look for or be concerned about?

Nothing for you to be concerned about, he answered. I will do the worrying. Ignore me unless something goes down. I will be close at all times but without interfering in anything you are doing.

Ready?

He nodded and opened the door.

He stepped through the door ahead of her and made a quick but thorough scan of the hallway to either side of them. He saw two of the other scientists and their own bodyguards already in the hallway but there was no sign of their Iranian escorts.

Fleming stared at the elevator doors for a second then led Ramirez towards the nearest stairway instead.

Care for a walk? he offered. I don’t do elevators, too easily trapped if someone wants you killed.

I suppose. We’re only on the sixth floor, right? Amelia replied sarcastically, I draw the line at the seventh floor.

He laughed and nodded.

At least we’re not going up.

David glanced carefully up and down the staircase before they headed down. Out of habit, he slipped the Sig pistol into his hand and held it against his side ready to fire. They took their time and finally arrived at the ground floor where he holstered it before stepping out of the stairwell into the large marble and gold decorated lobby. They walked around the central elevator towers towards the huge ballroom where they would be dining.

Before they reached it Fleming stopped her for a moment, moving towards one of the walls.

Is it possible for you to sit with this Dr. Khobari tonight? he asked her. He is one of the scientists we were alerted to during the briefing we received before we joined you.

I’m already sitting with him: as we are both leaders of our respective teams they seated us together, she answered. As for your suspicions, I also received a similar briefing a few months back about who to pay close attention to. Don’t worry, I am always on my toes.

David chuckled.

Let’s go get some chow.

Huh?

Dinner, Doc, let’s get some dinner, he said and escorted her into the dining room.

Most of the UN contingent and their escorts were already assembled inside talking with their Iranian counterparts while others wandered in to join them.

Fleming looked around the large room that was half filled with large round tables covered with assorted hors d’oeuvres and large crystal carafes of juice and water. He made eye contact with each of his men, getting reassuring nods and noticed only a handful of Iranian security team members in attendance, placed in pairs at each entrance.

He didn’t like the security arrangements but admitted that he wasn’t in control and shifted nervously. He looked around before sitting down at a table near where Ramirez was talking with some members of her team.

Mr. Fleming, it is good to meet you again, a pleasant voice greeted him as he was drinking a glass of very strong Turkish coffee.

David looked up in surprise to see Priya Khobari again accompanied by her father standing before him. He smiled broadly and set the coffee down before he stood. He stood a good six inches above her and was nearly a foot taller than her father.

This is indeed a pleasant surprise, Miss Khobari.

May I present my father, Jamal Khobari,

Her father bowed slightly.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir, David said and offered his hand.

Jamal’s hand was leathery and his handshake firm.

David hesitated, unsure how to address her after the earlier incident. He studied her but noted she seemed much more at ease than when she’d left earlier that afternoon. She saw his hesitation and smiled warmly.

Tonight, she wore a calf-length light blue gown with gold floral designs that emphasized a voluptuous body he hadn’t noticed before. The black rimmed glasses she’d worn before were now replaced by some more elegant brown and gold turtle shell glasses that enhanced a smooth, round face that was surrounded by jet-black hair that flowed gracefully down to the small of her back. The effect was stunning, and he found it difficult to take his eyes off of her until her father’s voice brought him around.

My Daughter tells me that you are a member of the security team. I certainly hope that you will not need to use your skills while you are in our country. I realize it must seem imposing to people who are not from here.

Jamal was a small, delicate man in his late sixties with a few wisps of white hair left on his virtually bald head who wore thick, gold rimmed glasses. His olive skin was leathery and wrinkled with age and he clutched a wooden walking stick with a white-knuckled grip and wore a black tuxedo and white turban. His accent reminded Fleming of India rather than Iran.

Jamal noticed his strange look.

Well, with all the negotiations going on it would be a monumental setback if something were to happen to any of the inspectors. Not just for Iran, but for the entire world, David told him with a nod Jamal nodded sadly. I didn’t realize it until now but you’re not Iranian, Doctor Khobari. My guess is that you’re Indian.

That is correct, Mr. Fleming, I am from New Delhi, Jamal said with a laugh. You are a very perceptive man. I am sure that makes you very good at your job.

David laughed.

Well, the turban also helped, he replied and Jamal joined him with a chuckle. Sir, I realize that you are a very important person in the scientific community, but how on earth did you end up here in Iran? Forgive me for asking but I find it very curious because when I spoke with your daughter earlier I detected no hint of an Indian accent.

Yes, well, my daughter was born and raised here in Tehran: it is all she has ever known, Jamal answered. We are Sikh’s but we must adhere to Sharia law and dress codes while out in public. Priya was granted a bit more freedom in her dress tonight because this is a private event. She will not be…how do you say…disciplined, for not conforming to their laws.

Sharia law is inherent in everything here in Iran and the religious police will arrest you for not conforming, regardless of your religious beliefs. So, we must appease them: going to an Iranian prison is not a pleasant prospect. I imagine you were not sure whether to speak to Priya in public this afternoon.

Yes, that was awkward until she assured me it was okay, David answered with a nod and a relieved chuckle.

You seem more accustomed and informed than most Americans I’ve met. You have been to the Middle East before.

I have indeed. Several times in fact with the US Army, he said with a nod, I’m afraid I’ve never been to India before, though.

You are a very interesting man, Mr. Fleming. I look forward speaking with you again while you are here, Jamal said with a laugh and gestured to Priya. Please, will you do me the honor of sitting with my daughter for dinner? I’m afraid they want us together and our assistants, even our daughters at separate tables.

David smiled and looked at Priya who was staring up at him.

It will be my pleasure, Dr. Khobari. Thank you for allowing me to do so.

He watched the little man walk over to Ramirez. They both shared a hug and sat down, laughing a little as they talked. He turned to Priya who was still watching him. Her eyes were big and brown and seemed sad. 

Why do I get the feeling I just had a father boyfriend talk? he asked and she looked at him puzzled. I’ll explain later.

She laughed and he pulled out a chair next to him.

I would be honored if you joined me.

She smiled warmly and moved around him to sit down. He detected the scent of Jasmine as she seated herself and he slid her chair forward until she was comfortable. Her lack of a veil now revealed a scar running along her lower jaw almost to her right ear. It still looked puffy and he guessed it was no more a few weeks old and couldn't be covered by makeup.

She noticed him staring and looked away, embarrassed and self-conscious and raised a hand to cover her scar.

I am sorry Miss Khobari, I didn’t mean to stare, he said. "Would you like some juice or tea?’

Actually, I’d prefer the coffee. Priya said and he smiled approvingly.

Now that is a pleasant surprise he said with a laugh and tried to put her at ease. You are the first woman I’ve met that actually likes Turkish coffee. I love the stuff.

I grew up drinking it. I am very sorry about this afternoon. That man terrifies me.

You have every right to be terrified. He didn’t get to where he is without being ruthless, he said, waving off her concern. That is how people like him stay in power.

I know we’ve only just met but may I call you something besides Mr. Fleming?

I’d be honored if you would call me David, he answered with a smile. Mr. Fleming makes me feel old.

Please call me Priya, she urged and he smiled. So before, you were going to tell me about yourself?

No, no, he corrected her with a smile and poured some steaming hot coffee into the delicate coffee glass in front of her. You asked me where I came from, he corrected her. I live in a really strange place called Fort Bragg, in North Carolina.

I thought you were working for the UN? You are in the Army? She asked in confusion.

I am getting ready to retire from the Army, David explained. I volunteered to come here with the UN inspectors. I did this once a few years ago and I thought it would be an interesting last assignment before I retire. Maybe bring a fresh set of eyes that see things from a different point of view. As your father noted, I can be very perceptive.

May I ask you a question? Priya asked nervously and looked around as if expecting trouble. And please do me the honor of being completely honest when you answer?

He looked her in the eyes for a moment and gave her a reassuring smile.

I will not give any up any military secrets or anything like that, Priya, but I will give you an honest answer to anything else.

Are you being nice to me so you can get information about my father’s work?

He chuckled and she stared at her glass.

In another time and situation, I might have been fishing for information on your father but not this time, David told her as she looked up at him My job here is simply to protect Dr. Ramirez. I send reports to my boss on what I see and hear and who I talk to, but no, that is not why I’m being nice to you. I happen to find you very pleasant to talk to. You are not someone I expected to meet here and I find that very refreshing.

A tear formed in her eye, and she blinked and wiped it away.

Thank you for being honest with me, I appreciate it, she said with obvious relief. You are a very different from the other men that I’ve been allowed to talk to outside our work.

I like to think I’m different, he said with a grin, unfortunately that is usually synonymous with being an asshole. Thank you, though, I appreciate it.

So, you really are in the Army? How long?

I just passed twenty-two years, he said. I retire six months after I leave here.

The dinner lasted nearly three hours and included a greeting by the Grand Ayatollah, an address by the Prime Minister, as well as the Director of the Iranian Atomic Energy Research Agency. Afterwards, Jamal and Priya accompanied Fleming and Ramirez out of the dining