encryption system. He put the phone away and turned to Yanuk.
“My men have been successful. You will have your five days, Russian.” Khan turned his back on him and walked down the slope to his camp, dialing on his phone.
“Yes?" an unfamiliar voice answered.
“It’s Khan. Tell Dostiger that everything is proceeding on schedule.”
There was a pause as the message was relayed to the arms dealer. For security reasons, Dostiger rarely spoke on the phone, preferring to leave the handset with one of his bodyguards.
“Are you there?” the voice asked.
“Yes,” said Khan.
“Dostiger wants to talk to you.”
There was a pause as the phone changed hands.
“How are you, Khan?”
“I am well. It is good to hear your voice, my son.”
“Yes. I have been busy with our Iranian friends. How is our project progressing?
“We have had minor setbacks but nothing that cannot be resolved.”
“Minor setbacks?” Dostiger queried.
“My men dealt with an American patrol.”
“Americans? Already?”
“This is not an issue, Dostiger; the arrangements I made with the Taliban remain in place. The Americans will not come in force, and if they do, it will be too late.”
“So the digging is on schedule?”
“Yes, we will finish here as planned. Do not doubt me, my son. It is Allah’s will that has brought us here and it is Allah’s will that we succeed.”
“Yes, Allah’s will. Of course!”
“You may not be a believer, Dostiger, but you are still guided by Allah’s hand. With your help I will drive the Americans from our lands, as I did the Russians before them.”
Dostiger laughed. “Khan, with my weapons you cannot fail. And once we give our brothers in Iran what they want, then Afghanistan will be yours.”
Chapter 11
Ministry of Intelligence and Security
Headquarters Ministry of Intelligence and Security, Tehran, Iran
Mohammad Rostam was not a man who made jokes or laughed at others’ attempts at humor. His office in the Iranian Ministry Of Intelligence and Security (MOIS) reflected this demeanor. The furniture was utilitarian with nothing personal. The desk was usually spartan, but today Rostam was sorting through a pile of reports, his brow furrowed into a deep crease as he furiously thumbed through the pages.
He continued to turn pages as he picked up the phone. “This is the Director of Special Projects. Have Agent Ebadi come to my office immediately.” Without waiting for a reply he hung up, his eyes never leaving the open document.
Rostam was still reading when a soft knock heralded the presence of Alfsaneh Ebadi.
“Enter!”
She swung the heavy door open, elegantly striding into his office.
“Good afternoon, Sir.”
Rostam stayed silent as his eyes lingered over her. Everything about Saneh was sensual. Long ebony hair framed her high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. Her hourglass figure was evident despite the no-nonsense tailored business suit.
Rostam appreciated her beauty, however unlike his colleagues he didn’t lust after her. For him, her beauty was simply an asset, another tool in his substantial pool of resources.
“Agent Ebadi.” Rostam finally acknowledged her presence. “Your area of operations is Eastern Europe, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What do you know about Dostiger’s current activities?”
“Dostiger the arms dealer?” she responded.
“Yes.”
“Sir, I haven’t seen any recent reporting but it would be a safe to assume he is still expanding his business.”
“I don’t want assumptions, Agent Ebadi. Tell me what you actually know,” Rostam demanded.
“Sir, he has extensive access into both the former Soviet arms market and the wider European markets. Generally he only deals with sensitive high-end military technology, providing weapons to the highest bidder.”
“Who’s he been dealing with?”
“We’ve linked him to various Islamic terrorist organizations and also to some governments, including