Thus far, the day had been good. Arash arrived that morning, and together they’d celebrated the victory in the previous month’s U.S. presidential elections. It wasn’t just the outcome they applauded, however. The whole process had left America a divided nation. A divided America is a weak America, and Iran was taking full advantage of that truth.

Mousavi admitted that the Zionist assassination of Dr. Fakhrizadeh had been a terrible blow to the nuclear program. The global distraction provided by the U.S. elections, however, had compensated quite a bit, because it would open the door for ramping up their enrichment process. And while the loss of the doctor was significant because of the progress already made, it wasn’t as devastating as if it had happened ten years ago or even five. Iran was racing toward a nuclear weapon, and they were confident they would achieve that goal in the next six months.

Now he hoped a good day was about to get even better.

The helicopter doors opened, and a female crewmember stepped out, followed by the male pilot. Standing at the bottom of the steps, he held up his hand and helped the first passenger down. It was the artist. When she was on solid ground, his hand went back up, and then Nicole le Roux stepped out.

Saad’s insides fluttered. The woman was even more magnificent in person. Tall and shapely. And when the light wind rolled across the Singapore Strait and caught her hair, the scene could have been right out of a commercial. She removed her dark, oversized sunglasses, and her ice-blue eyes caught his. Her face spread into a wide smile, and she waved. In his peripheral vision, he saw Mousavi waving back, and he realized he was just standing there like a love-struck teen.

Get control of yourself.

He smiled, turned on the charm, and began walking toward the women.

“Welcome to the Cafala Bahr,” he said as he reached them. He shook the artist’s hand first, then took hold of Nicole’s. Looking into her eyes, he said, “I am Saad Salim, and you are most welcome on my humble vessel.”

The artist laughed. “This boat is anything but humble.”

Saad shrugged. “What can I say? I have been blessed. This is my good friend Arash. I have invited him because he has a good eye for art and for people.”

With a strong Texas twang, the short brunette said, “Perfect. We’re people, and we’ve got art. I’m Alicia Marcos, the artist, and this is my good friend Nicole le Roux. She has a good eye for con men and bull crap. Unfortunately, on our little visits of late, we’ve met with plenty of both.”

Saad laughed. “Let me assure you that I do not invite con men onto my boat. And I have an excellent staff that cleans up after our bulls very well.”