Free The Icarus Agenda by Robert Ludlum Page B

in every nut leader in the Middle East and short of making Arafat mayor of New York City they’ll deal with anyone, holier-than-thou statements notwithstanding. What’s
your
idea?”
    “The same as what you say those computers of yours could do in a couple of years from now when it’d be too late. Trace the source of what’s being sent into the embassy. Not food or medical supplies, but ammunition and weapons … and somewhere among those items the instructions that someone’s sending inside. In other words, find this manipulator who calls himself the Mahdi and rip him out.”
    The T-shirted sultan looked at Evan in the flickering light. “You’re aware that much of the Western press have speculated that I, myself, might be behind this. That I somehow resent the Western influence spreading throughout the country. ‘Otherwise,’ they say, ‘why doesn’t he do something?’ ”
    “I’m aware of it, but like the State Department, I think it’s nonsense. No one with half a brain gives any credence to those speculations.”
    “Your State Department,” said Ahmat reflectively, his eyes still on Kendrick. “You know, they came to me in 1979, when Teheran blew up. I was a student then, and I don’t know what those two guys expected to find, but whatever it was, it wasn’t me. Probably some Bedouin in a long flowing aba, sitting cross-legged and smoking a hashish water pipe. Maybe if I’d dressed the part, they would have taken me seriously.”
    “You’ve lost me again.”
    “Oh, sorry. You see, once they realized that neither my father nor the family could do anything, that we had no real connections with the fundamentalist movements, they were exasperated. One of them almost begged me, saying that I appeared to be a reasonable
Arab
—meaning that my English was fluent, if tainted by early British schooling—and what would
I
do if I were running things in Washington. What they meant here was what advice would I offer, if my advice was sought.…
God-damnit
, I was
right
!”
    “What did you tell them?”
    “I remember exactly. I said … ‘What you should have done in the beginning. It could be too late now, but you might still pull it off.’ I told them to put together the most efficient insurgency force they could mount and send it
not
to Teheran but to
Qum
, Khomeini’s backwoods headquarters in the north. Sendex-SAVAK agents in first; those bastards would figure out a way to do it if the firepower and compensation were guaranteed. ‘Take Khomeini in Qum,’ I told them. ‘Take the illiterate mullahs around him and get them all out alive, then parade them on world television.’ He’d be the ultimate bargaining chip, and those hairy fanatics that are his court would serve to point up how ridiculous they
all
are. A deal could have been made.”
    Evan studied the angry young man. “It might have worked,” he said softly, “but what if Khomeini had decided to stand fast as a martyr?”
    “He wouldn’t have, believe me. He would have settled; there would have been a compromise, offered by others, of course, but designed by him. He has no desire to go so quickly to that heaven he extols, or to opt for that martyrdom he uses to send twelve-year-old kids into minefields.”
    “Why are you so sure?” asked Kendrick, himself unsure.
    “I met that half-wit in Paris—that’s not to justify Pahlevi or his SAVAK or his plundering relatives, I couldn’t do that—but Khomeini’s a senile zealot who wants to believe in his own immortality and will do anything to further it. I heard him tell a group of fawning imbeciles that instead of two or three, he had twenty, perhaps thirty, even forty sons. ‘I have spread my seed and I will continue to spread it,’ he claimed. ‘It is Allah’s will that my seed reach far and wide.’
Bullshit!
He’s a dribbling, dirty old man and a classic case for a funny farm. Can you imagine? Populating this sick world with little Ayatollahs? I told your people that