SANCTION: A Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page A

ultimately what had landed him the appointment to the Ministry of Defense, along with an inexhaustible list of political contacts from across the Middle East. The Iranian was not weak, like Shaikh Samara, and Bishara had the utmost respect for him. He would tread lightly.
    “This is true Minister Al-Ajlani,” Hassan said as he tipped the end of a thin cigar into his mouth. “But some believe that we will get the West’s attention best by winning their trust first.”
    Al-Ajlani had the moon to his back and as a result his face was hard to see. Bishara was certain the man was smiling. Al-Ajlani already knew most of what Nazari’s plan entailed and he approved.
    The climate of Middle Eastern politics had essentially remained unchanged for decades. Al-Ajlani had scratched and clawed his way to the seat of the Minister of Defense of Iran. With the scores of enemies he had made along the way however, there was little chance of him seeing the appointment to the Presidency that he so coveted. He hoped that his support of Nazari would one day change that.
    “How will he keep Hamas from breaking the ceasefire when he keeps talking about peace?” He asked simply. “No one wants peace Hassan. Not even the Americans.”
    Bishara gave the Iranian the twenty minute version of how things were expected to go and what they still needed from him.
    “I see,” Al-Ajlani said after some time.
    “When does Nazari think such a move is feasible?” He asked Hassan.
    “It has already begun,” Bishara said as he stared into the face of a man who was now definitely smiling.

The White House, Washington D.C.
    “We don’t know Mr. President.”
    The President leaned against his massive desk and cupped his chin in his hand. Usually he was a chatterbox, but the kidnapping had left him speechless; for the moment.
    President Graham Vanderbilt was a ‘Yale man’, class of 1969. He was a Democrat, and just about as far left leaning as possible. Hated by the likes of Rush Limbaugh and other mouthpieces of the Republican Party, President Vanderbilt had built a reputation as a polarizing liberal who pushed an agenda that was more at place at the corners of Haight and Ashbury than the halls of power in D.C. As with all politics however, some of it was true, much of it, media persona.
    His National Security Advisor, Edmond Bailey, had broken the news to him three hours earlier. His aides had been scrambling to provide him with a response ever since.
    Bailey continued. “We believe that there were nineteen bodies including the professor, from the University.”
    The President frowned.
    “They are not bodies Edmond, all we need is for the press to learn that my National Security Advisor has begun referring to the hostages as ‘bodies’.”
    “Sorry sir.” Bailey said.
    Edmond Bailey had been appointed to the position of National Security Advisor because of his wealth of experience in intelligence.
    Bailey had served six years aboard the Los Angeles Class–Nuclear Fast Attack Submarine, USS Savannah, as an operations officer before retiring with the Central Intelligence Agency twenty years later. In that time, Bailey had learned the dark truth of just how far America’s enemies were willing to go. This was very different from the vast number of advisors that reported to the President; most of them had either been owed a favor or were simply party loyalists. It was no secret that Bailey and the President agreed on little.
    Edmond continued.
    “No one has claimed responsibility.”
    Usually, whenever a terrorist strike was initiated and successful, groups lined up to attach their name to the free media coverage. In the hours since the attack, no one had raised a single flag for attention.
    “We have several teams digging as deep and as fast as they can for answers.”
    “Mr. President,” said one of his speechwriters.
    A short, stalky brunette walked over to Graham Vanderbilt and handed him a thick sheet of starched White House stationary.