At the best of times the Mideast was never known for its easygoing tolerance; lately it’s like everyone has gone just a little bit crazier. My boss, Mr. Church, has been monitoring the escalation of violence, and although he hasn’t come out and said so, I’m certain that he’s suspicious of the rising body count. My friend Bug, who runs the computer resources for the Department of Military Sciences, told me on the sly that Church wanted him to run a thorough background search on the victims, even the ones who appeared to be innocent bystanders.

“Why?” I asked.

“’Cause the boss thinks there’s a hidden agenda,” answered Bug.

“He always thinks there’s a hidden agenda,” I remarked.

“He’s usually right, though, isn’t he?”

And I had no argument for that. Like the bumper stickers say, “You’re not paranoid if they really are out to get you.”

I’d been following this in the local and national news, and I scanned the paper to see if they had anything on the mosque bomber, but this rag was pretty heavily slanted toward the ultraconservative view, which pretty much concludes that if a bird shits on a statue in Iran it’s a U.S. plot. The reporter, probably quoting a government directive, claimed that this was the latest act in a series of escalating terrorist attacks by America. Completely ignoring the fact that half of the recent victims in the Middle East were Americans or allies. Go figure.

The rest of the paper was local stuff. No cartoons. No Doonesbury or Zits or Tank McNamara. No crossword puzzle.

Time crawled by. A few people came in for coffee.

I debated rolling sideways out of the chair and shimmying behind the counter, but if I did that and the snipers opened up I’d be the cause of civilian casualties.

Besides … after all this I kind of wanted to see who was going to walk in the door.

While I waited, I went over everything that had happened last night. This thing with the woman and the snipers didn’t seem to fit, but … how could it not? We did a lot of harm last night … Somebody must want some payback.

I sipped my coffee. It wasn’t Starbucks, but it was hot and black.

I could almost hear the echo of gunfire in my ears …

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Afa Police Station

Tehran, Iran

One Day Ago

June 14, 7:20 p.m.

The trial was set to start in two days, so to avoid the crowds near the capital building that had been a constant since the mosque bombing, the military moved the three hikers to a secure location on the outskirts of Tehran. The move was also likely done to reduce the risk of having the press ask any questions of the hikers, and there was an army of reporters from all over the world in Iran right now.