The moment of truth.
“As you say, I’m a cleric,” Moradi said with a shrug. “I’m still learning the operational details of my job. Like you, I’m second-in-command of a substantial organization. Also like you, I have aspirations beyond my current role. Ashani mentioned Saeed’s potential utility in passing. I decided to act on his idea.”
“So you gave me the dossier without Ashani’s knowledge?”
Moradi nodded.
Ruyintan laughed again. The merriment did not reach his eyes.
“You might be a fine cleric, but you have much to learn about the profession of espionage.”
“What do you mean?” Moradi said. Moradi raised his voice as he spoke, hoping to use anger to disguise his fear.
“Ashani played you. The man you sent me to meet is no Sunni financier. In fact, he’s not even Arab.”
“Then who is he?”
“An American. An American by the name of Mitch Rapp.”
CHAPTER 52
MORADI stared at Ruyintan with an expression of shock.
He allowed his mouth to slowly open even as he silently counted the passing seconds. When his internal clock reached five, he closed his lips, swallowed twice, and cleared his throat. It was a performance he’d rehearsed numerous times in front of his hotel mirror.
Hopefully, his practice had just paid off.
“What?” Moradi croaked.
“Either you have the worst luck of any intelligence officer who’s ever lived, or your superior used you as a cutout to funnel information to me. Information that might have gotten me killed.”
“I… I didn’t know.”
Moradi endured the Quds Force officer’s stare for what seemed like an eternity.
Then, Ruyintan slowly nodded.
“You weren’t the only one taken in by Ashani’s duplicity. I accepted the Saeed dossier and his whereabouts on face value and saw what I expected to see. Had I run the information past my own intelligence analysts, they would have no doubt made the connection to Rapp.”
Moradi did not need to be convinced that this was true. Ashani had voiced this exact pitfall. While still a clandestine operative of sorts, Mitch Rapp was well-known to his enemies. Any competent intelligence organization would possess the counterterrorism operative’s likeness on file.
But they still had to look for the information.
Despite the risks, Moradi had agreed to implement Ashani’s plan. Using Ruyintan to unwittingly convey a message to Rapp from Ashani was an elegant solution to their current problem and would protect Moradi with two layers of deniability. One, it had been Ashani, not Moradi, who had come up with the idea of using Farid Saeed to gain access to the Iraqi militias. Two, it had been Ruyintan, not Moradi, who had been face-to-face with America’s most deadly assassin and not known it.
“Where is Rapp now?” Moradi said.
“That is an excellent question. We know he landed in Kabul under the same French legend he was using when I met with him in Islamabad, but his trail goes cold once he leaves the airport.”
“Did Rapp meet with Ashani?”
“That is an even better question. One I would like your help answering.”
Tendrils of dread snaked through Moradi’s gut.
A hawk screeched as it wheeled overhead. The raptor’s wingtips made minute adjustments in response to the rising thermals as the bird’s head jerked from side to side, scanning for prey. The hawk’s appearance felt like an omen, but Moradi wasn’t sure if he was the predator or the prey.
Time to find out.
“How can I assisst you?” Moradi said.
“As we speak, Ashani is on his way to Islamabad at my request. If for some reason he develops second thoughts about meeting with me, I would like you to let me know.”
“Of course,” Moradi said. “He is a traitor to the revolution.”
“Just so, and he will die for his betrayal. Now, I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”
Ruyintan turned and walked away without waiting for a reply.
That was just as well.
Moradi was too terrified to speak.
CHAPTER 53
MORADI waited until the last footfall from Ruyintan and his entourage faded.
Then he waited some more.
