Ops Files II--Terror Alert Read Online Free PDF Page B

melancholy today. Probably from the back and forth with Uri – a living reminder of what relics they both were. Old soldiers from a bygone era, still in the trenches, their days of service nearing a close.
    And then what? Fishing from the breakwater? Golf? Model ships or some similarly idiotic pursuit?
    The truth was he’d never devoted much thought to what would happen after…after he was no longer needed. When he was young, he didn’t dare. In this business there were no guarantees you’d see thirty, much less older, so the end of a career was as foreign a concept as intergalactic flight.
    Only now, here he was. At the end of one road, wondering for the first time what the future held. He’d spent his entire existence weaving intrigue, plotting and scheming, playing chess with real-world consequences. He’d been a mover of mountains, a god of sorts. The prospect of sitting on a porch with a blanket over his knees so he didn’t get a chill didn’t appeal to him – he couldn’t even picture it.
    Or rather, he could envision it all too well, and the image was horrific.
    Was that why Elana’s voice had stirred urges that he’d kept dormant for so long? Years? Was he looking for reassurance that he was still vital?
    He stubbed out the cigarette with a violent stab and pushed back from his desk. Enough with the daydreaming. There would be plenty of time for that once he was a doddering old fool. Right now he had an agent to brief, which would require that he be up to speed on not only what Uri was pursuing but also the entire region’s dynamics, so she understood what she was going into. Probably nothing, Yael knew – Uri had been known to tilt at windmills and increasingly saw terrorists behind every rock – but it was on Yael to give her a comprehensive rundown, complete with the risks as he saw them.
    And there was always the possibility that Uri was actually onto something. It was easy to dismiss him as an anachronism far past his useful life, but Yael had known Uri long enough to respect his instinct, even if his track record of late was somewhat tarnished.
    As to Elana…that would have to wait for another day.
    He checked his watch and nodded.
    If anything were going to get done, it would have to.

Chapter 6
    Tehran, Iran
     
    Vahid Madani studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror, waiting for the occupant of the stall to finish up: black hair brushed straight back, beard neatly trimmed, the traces of gray in it bestowing a dignified air, offsetting the studious eyes that darted behind his steel-rimmed glasses. Eyes that spoke to a keen intellect and a curious mind.
    Impatient eyes.
    A flush issued from behind the door, and a worker with a security-clearance badge affixed to his overalls stepped out, dropping his eyes automatically when he saw Vahid, a professor and important scientist, far above his station in the hierarchy of the university. Vahid took his time smoothing his hair as the man rinsed his hands, and waited until he’d left the restroom to enter the stall.
    Vahid latched the door and looked down at his hands. They were shaking.
    He took several deep breaths and squared his shoulders, trying to calm himself. The time for questioning his course was over – he was committed now and couldn’t go back if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. He knew what he had to do. Had known for years.
    He remembered the words of his father, now dead for half a decade: “The future belongs to the bold.”
    Cowardice and timidity were the death of dreams. Vahid had decided after his father’s passing that he couldn’t settle for a lesser position in history than as one of the bold. Cranky, cynical, and perpetually single, he’d watched his region of the world manipulated and discarded by the West like a soiled tissue, millions killed in undeclared wars, the barbarians closing on the gates of his own country, their agenda clear. He couldn’t sit on the sidelines any longer. He wouldn’t.
    His newfound