Executive orders - Tom Clancy [397]
Spooks had to be spooks, Adler knew. He didn't object. Diplomats gathered information, too, and knowing who had access to such expensive official transport could tell them something about who really rated in the UIR government. In a few seconds, just as their own wheels were chocked, a parade of cars rolled up to the Gulfstream fifty meters away from them on the Iranian-UIR-ian-air force ramp.
Somebody important, Ding said.
How you loaded?
ASA 1200, Mr. C., Chavez replied, selecting the telephoto setting. The whole aircraft fit into the frame. He couldn't zoom any closer. He started shooting as the steps came down.
Oh, Adler said first. Well, that shouldn't be much of a surprise.
Daryaei, isn't it? Clark asked.
That's our friend, SecState confirmed.
Hearing this, Chavez got off ten rapid frames, showing the man getting off, to be greeted by some colleagues, who embraced him like a long-lost uncle, then guided him into the car. The vehicles pulled off. Chavez fired off one more, then put the camera back in his bag. They waited another five minutes before they were allowed to de-plane.
Do I want to know what time it is? Adler asked, heading for the door.
Probably not, Clark decided. I guess we'll get a few hours of rack time before the meeting.
At the bottom of the steps was the French ambassador, with one obvious security guard, and ten more locals. They would travel to the French embassy in two cars, with two Iranian vehicles leading and two more trailing the semi-official procession. Adler went with the ambassador in the first one. Clark and Chavez bundled into the second. They had a driver and another man in the front seat. Both would have to be spooks.
Welcome to Tehran, my friends, the guy riding shotgun said.
Merci, Ding replied, with a yawn.
Sorry to get you up so early, Clark added. This one would probably be the station chief. The people he and Ding had sat with at Paris would have called ahead to let him know that they were probably not State Department security types.
The Frenchman confirmed it. Not your first time, I am told.
How long have you been here? John asked.
Two years. The car is safe, he added, meaning that it probably wasn't bugged.
We have a message for you from Washington, the ambassador told Adler in the leading car. Then he relayed what he knew about the Airbus incident at Taipei. You will be busy when you return home, I'm afraid.
Oh, Christ! the Secretary observed. Just what we need. Any reaction yet?
Nothing I know of. But that will change within hours. You are scheduled to see the Ayatollah Daryaei at ten-thirty, so you have time for some sleep. Your flight back to Paris will leave just after lunch. We will give you all the assistance you request.
Thank you, Mr. Ambassador. Adler was too tired to say much else.
Any idea what happened? Chavez asked in the trail car.
We have only what your government has told us to pass along. Evidently there was a brief clash over the Strait of Taiwan, and a missile hit an unintended target.
Casualties? Clark said next.
Unknown at this time, the local DGSE station chief said.
Kinda hard to hit an airliner without killing somebody. Ding closed his eyes in anticipation of a soft bed at the embassy.
THE SAME NEWS was given to Daryaei at exactly the same time. He surprised his fellow cleric by taking it without a visible reaction. Mahmoud Haji had long since decided that people who didn't know anything couldn't interfere with much.
FRENCH HOSPITALITY WAS not disgraced even by its transplantation to a place which could hardly have been more different from the City of Light. Inside the compound, three uniformed soldiers collected the Americans' bags, while another man in some sort of livery conducted them to their quarters. The beds were turned down, and there was ice water on the nightstands. Chavez checked his watches again, groaned, and collapsed into the bed. For Clark, sleep came harder. The last time he'd looked at an embassy compound in this city what was it? he asked himself. What