Free The Minders by Max Boroumand Page B

him nothing of ours, knowing that he would get nothing from them in return. However, the quality time with him resulted in a great profile, but he had a foreboding feeling for where this man was going. The meetings were positive, but deep down Jason knew this man would be yet another thorn in our side. He followed orders, feeling strongly that they were wrong. He should have killed him instead, which was the other option discussed at the WHSR.
    *  *  *
    Every trip Jason took to the Middle East was filled with equal amounts of joy and pain. He could not forget his own years there as a young boy and felt so badly for the people whose lives had changed so dramatically over the decades. He had many friends that had left that region in the hopes of finding a better and safer life elsewhere. Nevertheless, no matter whom he spoke to, each one longed for the day they could go back home. Even Jason longed for those days as a child, living in Iran. It left quite an impression on him.
    So many things were not what one expected. There were no standards. You could not find a plumbing fixture to replace a broken faucet. For those you had to go to a specialist who would fashion something for you based on the sample item you furnished. There were no lines and no basic order. All lines looked like an arrow. It started with the first person, behind them stood two, and behind them three and so on. It was a first shove, first serve model. Nothing was set in stone. Everything was negotiable. You were in a constant state of negotiation. Simple chaos reigned.
    Yet, the warmth of the people, the simplicity of life and the social graces made up for so much of the other missing items. Your choices were always between a small set of things, but all useful. There were only two T.V. stations with very little to watch. The grocery stores had one kind of toilet paper, not a hundred different brands.
    The food, fruits, and ingredients were fresh, safe and free of chemicals and preservatives. But, you did have to wash everything, and I mean everything. Life was slower, smoother, and more satisfying. It was not a race to see who had the best and most recent iPhone, car, or clothing. It was a great place to raise a child.
    *  *  *
    Alas, in the end and after each trip, the most important thing for Jason was getting home to his family. In that case, it was a job well done. Everyone got home safe.
    Maybe the next birthday, he would be with his family and not trying to change the course of a region.
     
     

9 | Tins of Caviar
    Yasmin Akbari was in a constant state of shock and anxiety. She went through the day in fear for her husband and daughter, both of whom were stuck somewhere in Iran. She had no idea where.
    Are they in some prison or some other horrible place? She would think.
    Most of her friends and all of her family lived in Iran. She dared not call anyone in Iran. The intelligence groups monitored all calls inside Iran. At least back in Atlanta, she had some friends. In Copenhagen, she had no one. She was new to the area and her job. She didn’t know how things worked there, nor did she trust anyone to help. Yasmin had worked for years at The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) in Atlanta, when unexpectedly she got a great offer, involving a promotion and the opportunity to run a division at the World Health Organization (WHO).
    Six months ago, she took charge of the WHO’s Vaccines and Biologicals Division, and was the United Nation’s liaison on that subject matter. She had worked in both Africa and the U.S. She was the foremost expert on deadly level-4 biologicals (BSL-4). She had written dozens of research papers and delivered countless seminars globally. She was now at a facility where they conducted deep research on BSL-4s, and where many of the biological samples were stored.
    When Yasmin first received her text message, she thought it a joke, done in poor taste. When she did not hear from her husband, and then received worried calls from