Pandora's Grave Read Online Free

Shiite candidates gaining a majority in parliament during the last elections. Much of the same thing is happening all across the Stans,” Lay added, referring to the small Muslim countries north and east of Iran, most of them former members of the Soviet bloc and whose names all ended in “stan”.
    “IRGC-owned companies now control between sixty and seventy percent of the Iranian economy, which is not to say they allow any real competition in the remaining percentage. The ranks of the Basij militia have swelled in the last year and it’s believed they have resumed covert negotiations with North Korea. Trouble is coming—it’s only a question of when and where.”
    A knock came at that moment. “Come in,” Director Lay called as his secretary entered the room.
    “Mr. Richards’ helicopter is landing, sir.”
    The CIA director smiled briefly. “Thank you, Margaret.” She disappeared and he turned his attention back to the men in front of him. “Why don’t we go down to the Operations Center and meet up with Richards?”
    Kranemeyer took a folder from under his arm and handed it to Harry. “A recruit from the Farm is coming in with Jack. He’s of Iranian descent and speaks fluent Farsi. As of right now, he’s assigned to your team. Things go well on this op, we may make the transfer permanent. This will tell you what you need to know.”
    “Right, sir.”
     
    Speed-reading had always been one of Harry’s talents, and he’d read the folders before the elevator reached the level of the Operations Center. By that time he knew just about as much as the Agency was willing to tell him about Davood Sarami, a second-generation immigrant in his mid-twenties. He would know more once he had been able to observe him personally. As to how he would perform—he wouldn’t know about that until they were in the field, past the point of no return. Committed. He hated that.
    He preferred to work with men he knew—with men whose abilities were a known quantity to him. Men he could rely upon to do their job.
    Men like Thomas, Tex, and Hamid Zakiri, themselves survivors of the Azeri mission as well as many other missions in the years before and since. He knew them all and trusted them. Counted them his friends. But only Hamid, an Iraqi-American Shiite, spoke Farsi.
    Harry did, but they needed another who could pass more easily as a native. Hopefully this man would fit the bill…
     
    “So, gentlemen, that is the situation as we have it.” Director Lay looked up from his briefing papers. “Any questions?”
    Harry hadn’t been listening. He had heard it all before, all of it explained to him back on the seventh floor. So, he had spent his time watching.
    Watching the young Iranian, watching his reaction to the briefing. Trying to read his thoughts. Trying to assess them. After a moment, Sarami’s hand went up.
    “How many Iranian troops are at the campsite?”
    It was a good question. One you should have asked , a little voice reminded Harry. So far, so good.
    Lay glanced over to Ron Carter for the answer.
    “Initially, our satellite overpasses were only able to catch a few men, perhaps twelve or thirteen soldiers,” Carter replied, stepping forward, his laptop in hand. “However, the last scan, made twelve hours ago, showed at least platoon strength, approximately fifty men, all heavily armed. There are also an undeterminate number of scientists. I believe we can assume that some of them have military training.”
    “Triple-A?”
    “Negative—satellite shows no formal anti-aircraft capability. Small arms fire could be intense, though, so a direct air assault is inadvisable. We’ll have to set you down a few klicks out.”
    “Do we have any idea why the Iranian military decided to set up a bio-war facility there of all places?”
    David Lay shook his head. “None of this makes sense. That’s why we’re sending you in. To figure out exactly what they’re doing.”
    “Alpha Team is being reconstituted?”