Tom Clancy's op-center_ acts of war - Tom Clancy [115]
Nasr shook his head as they headed down the narrow road. "I've been coming here all my life." There was a catch in his voice. "I've never seen the city so deserted. Damascus and Aleppo are the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. To see it like this is terrible."
"I understand it's even worse in the north, Dr. Nasr," said Agent Fernette.
"Has everyone left the city or are they indoors?" Hood asked.
"A little of both," said Fernette. "The President has ordered the streets to be kept clear in case the army or his own palace guards have to move around."
"I don't understand," Hood said. "All the activity is taking place one hundred and fifty miles north of here. The Turks wouldn't be reckless enough to attack the capital."
"They're not," said Bicking. "I'll bet the Syrians are afraid of their own people. Kurds, like the officer who led the attack at the border."
"Exactly," said Fernette. "There's a five p.m. curfew. If you're out after,that, you're going to prison."
"Which is someplace you don't want to be in Damascus," Agent Davies said. "People are treated rather harshly there."
Upon reaching the embassy, Hood was greeted by Ambassador L. Peter Haveles. Hood had met the career foreign service man once, at a reception at the White House. Haveles was balding and wore thick glasses. He stood a few inches under six feet, though his rounded shoulders made him seem even shorter. He'd gotten this post, it was said, because he was a friend of the Vice President. At the time, Haveles's predecessor had remarked that a man would only give this post to his worst enemy.
"Welcome, Paul," Haveles said from halfway down the corridor.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ambassador,"' Hood replied.
"Was the flight pleasant?" Haveles asked.
"I listened to oldies on audio channel four and slept," Hood said. "That, Mr. Ambassador, is pretty much my definition of pleasant."
"Sounds good to me," Haveles said unconvincingly. Even as the ambassador shook hands with Hood, his eyes had already moved to Nasr. "It's an honor to have you here, Dr. Nasr," Haveles said.
"It's an honor to be here," Nasr replied, "though I wish the circumstances were not so grim."
Haveles shook Bicking's hand, but his eyes returned quickly to Nasr. "They are grimmer than you know," Haveles said. "Come. We'll talk in my office. Would any of you care for something to drink?"
The men shook their heads, after which Haveles turned and extended a hand down the corridor. The men began walking slowly, Haveles between Hood and Nasr and Bicking beside Hood. Their footsteps echoed down the corridor as the ambassador talked about the ancient vases on display. They were top-lit, and looked quite dramatic in front of nineteenth-century murals showing events from the reign of the Umayyad Caliphs, during the first century A.D.
Haveles's round office was at the far end of the embassy. It was small but ornate, with marble columns on all sides and a central drum ceiling reminiscent of the cathedral at Bosra. Light came through a large skylight in the top of the dome. There were no other windows. The guests sat in thickly padded brown armchairs. Haveles shut the door, then sat behind his massive desk. He seemed dwarfed by it.
"We have our sources in the Presidential Palace," he said with a smile, "and we suspect they have sources here. It's best to speak in private."
"Of course," said Hood.
Haveles folded his hands in front of him. "The palace believes that there is a death squad in Damascus. The best information they have is that the team will strike late this afternoon."
"Do we have corroboration?" Hood asked.
"I was hoping you could help us there," Haveles said. "At least, that your people could. You see, I've been invited to visit the palace this afternoon." He looked at the antique ivory clock on his desk. "In ninety minutes, in fact. I've been invited to remain there for the