“I share that hope, Hank. I assume you don’t drink, but can I offer you some tea or coffee?”
“We have been assuming too many things about each other since 1979, Mr. President. I’ll have Kentucky bourbon, neat, three fingers, if you have it. Will you join me?”
“I long ago gave up drinking, Hank, but I’ll raise my Diet Coke in toast—to our new friends.”
“To our new friends, Mr. President. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There are officials in my government and yours who don’t share our warm feelings.”
“What are Supreme Leader Khamenei’s thoughts, Hank?”
“I expect that what I say won’t be made public, Mr. President.”
“Count on it, Hank. Your words will never leave this room.”
“Thank you. I don’t think I’d look good without my head. In answer to your question, Khamenei is an old-school Islamic fanatic. He actually believes all the nonsense that radical clerics like to spout. I negotiated with him after Ramin Abbasi told me about Bartholomew Martin. He finally agreed. I was certain that you and your government would not consent to reopen the nuclear pact talks. I finally managed to convince him to agree to the terms we signed. It may be an indication that he’s mellowing, but I wouldn’t count on it. For him to think about the United States in positive terms would go against his deeply ingrained principles. He may be the Supreme Leader by title, if not in fact. There are a number of people in our government, like me, who see America as a potential friend.”
“It’s a constant mystery to me, Hank, why Islam hates the West so much. Whether it’s the Sunnis or the Shiites as in Iran, there is this hatred that many of us Westerners can’t fathom.”
“Mr. President, I’m going to let you in on a secret. If this ever becomes public I will be a dead man. I tell you this as a symbol of trust and our new friendship, because I’m putting my life in your hands. I’m a Christian, an Episcopalian. I converted, quietly, about five years ago. I was introduced to the words of Jesus Christ by an American diplomat. There’s something about loving your fellow man that appeals to me more than murdering him because he’s of a different religion. Thank God for the Internet, because I’m able to attend services online. This morning, wearing a disguise, I went to Mass and received communion. I was impressed by the priest’s sermon. His name is Father Rick Sampson and he leads a parish here in New York. I’ll never forget his words—‘When things get tough, leave it to Jesus. He can figure it out better than us.’ As our two countries slowly get to know one another, I’m going to repeat those words—to myself of course.”
“Hank, as I once heard in a wonderful movie, ‘I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”
“You do a good Bogart, Mr. President.”
Chapter 80
“Good morning, Mr. Atkins,” Hamid Rashadi said.
“Please call me Buster, everyone else does.”
“President Blake told me quite a bit about you, Buster. He’s quite a fan of yours. And please call me Hank.”
“He also told me quite a bit about you, Hank. We don’t have too many Iranian friends, and you may be the best.”
“Are you ready to visit Bartholomew Martin, Buster?” Rashadi said. “Your knowledge of this bastard will help us to prosecute him. He won’t say a word to me.”
“He’s the most miserable scumbag ever to inhabit my country, pardon my Arabic. That one man came close to turning America into a dictatorship. With him as president we came close to earning the title Great Satan.”
“Does he know you well, Buster?”
“Very well. When he was in the White House he tried to recruit me to spy on American politicians. He liked my background in intelligence with the CIA and wanted to use me to help him roll up our democracy.”
“From what I heard about him, I’m surprised that he didn’t arrest you when you refused to cooperate.”
“The only reason I’m alive is that I didn’t refuse. I made him think that I was his spy, but it was a big act. I spied on him and fed information to the growing opposition. I thank God that Matt Blake, President Blake, beat him in the election. Make no doubt about it, Hank, President Blake is a great man, and just what we needed after Martin’s presidency.”
“So, let’s go to see the Reformer himself,” Rashadi said.
Three jail guards led them down a long corridor to Martin’s cell. One of the guards unlocked the door with his keys, as the other two stood by with their guns drawn, facing toward the cell.
“Buster, I think you know our guest,” Rashadi said as he gestured toward the back of the cell. “I’ll wait outside while you talk to him.”
“Hank,” Buster yelled as he stepped back into the corridor. “This cell is empty. Where’s Martin?”
The guards rushed into the cell, guns drawn. They flipped the bed upside down and looked into every corner of the room. Bartholomew Martin was gone.
“Honey, your secretary just gave me this envelope addressed to me,” Dee said. “Inside is another one addressed to you. I think somebody’s playing games.”
President Blake read the letter silently, and then looked at Dee. He was about to read it aloud when the intercom sounded.
“Mr. President, it’s Buster on the line for you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Mr. President, Martin has escaped,” Buster said. He was speaking from his cell phone in the corridor outside of Martin’s cell. “This is the most secure prison in a land of secure prisons. Obviously, he had some help. The bastard is simply not here.”
“His timing,” the President said, “is typical of him. I just received a letter from him that was delivered to Dee. I was about to read it when you called. I’ll read it now to you and Dee.”
So, Mr. President, you persist in thinking that you can defeat me. You have spent millions of dollars bombing our compound in Kurdistan, and then you were naïve enough to believe that the Iranians would do your bidding. You are all fools to think that you can achieve victory over me. I thought you would have learned the last time, but you don’t know when I’ve beaten you, which I have. The winter that I inflicted on you is only the beginning of my wrath. You will soon wish that you never ran against me for office. Enjoy the weather, Mr. President. You now live in a climate of doubt.
CHARACTERS – A Climate of Doubt
Abbassi, Ramin – American spy in Iran
Adams, Bill – Mayor of New York City
Arnold, Jake – White House Chief of Staff
Bellamy, Ellen – TV Talk Show Host and Rick’s wife
Bellamy, Rick – Secretary of Homeland Security and Ellen’s Husband
Boynton, Sally – FBI Agent and Secretary Bellamy’s assistant
Buster – CIA Agent
Carlini, William –Director, CIA
Collins, Gregory – Admiral, Chief of Naval Operations
Columbo, Bob – CIA agent and voice impersonator
Cranston, Bill – Astronaut
Crawford, Michael – Aeronautical engineer
Deming, Nigel – English meteorologist
Dolan, Roger – Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff
Drake, Walter – Senior FBI agent at Rosetta Corporation
Duncan, Phil – Operations VP, the Rosetta Corporation
Foreman, Jack – Interim CEO of Rosetta
Hardy, David – Moonwalker astronaut
Jackson, Mark – Astronaut for The Reformers