Twenty-Nine Cozy Bears

39

Tehran, Iran 12:38PM

When he woke, the heavy curtain — closed tight against the relentless sunlight — draped the room in a deep, constrictive murk; stagnant air had dried his throat. A quick, disoriented glance at the laptop filled him with temporal doubt — was it really after noon? Goaded by the unquiet of metabolic shock he reached for his pack of cigarettes, discovering only an empty pocket. Distracted by this he patted his chest ineffectually before remembering that smoking was prohibited here. Disgruntled, he lay on his back, studying the ceiling. Despite the grogginess, he felt good; rested.

Sitting up, he stood from the stack of carpets he used as a mattress. As he rolled his neck, the minor pops and percussions of his all-too-often sedentary spine felt loud in the silence. It was then he noticed — he wasn't alone in the apartment. A prickle from this awareness brought the hairs on his arms to attention. Someone was in the common room, just beyond the door. This was the only bedroom. Out side the door, the kitchenette was to the right, the common room to the left.

The cleric had his gun. Bending down he pulled his combat knife from his day pack. Going through his recent memory he tried to isolate the movement or noise which alerted his attention to the intruder. Nothing came to mind. Then, someone cleared their throat out there. The act was restrained, quiet. With nothing to give competition, with no other sounds to challenge, it was loud enough. It was the sound of a throat under constant assault for twenty years, pack after pack of smoke and burn and tar.

He relaxed, it was Alek. Still, he kept the knife in his hand as he left the room.

Alek sat in an overstuffed recliner chair, reading an English magazine. On the cover it said Newsweek. The Major wondered if it was published with the same stories as in Moscow or New York.

Folding the magazine and setting it aside, Alek said, "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Luca?" he asked.

"With his father. I gave him a call, informed him you are a crazy person."

The Major walked to the window in the kitchen area and opened it up, but left the curtains closed. "Where's Narges?" The air coming in felt good. He leaned toward the portal, his eyes closed.

"She offered to get food. She should be back in few minutes. She's been out for over an hour."

The Major thought about that, then said, "I'm not certain that any of us should be moving about the city alone."

"I get it — You want us killed off in pairs and small groups. I respect that," Alek said dryly.

"You don't want to die in Narges' arms?"

"I do not know. I would have to hear her sing first, before I could answer. But I do not die here. I am not the unfortunate accident on a training mission. Not so sure about you, however. "

"They had their chance, now it is my turn," the man said.

"You taking the fight to them?"

The man nodded, "Thought we would try this 'Hunt Forward' idea."

"Hunt ... forward? As opposed to what?" Alek asked, with a skeptical arching of his eyebrow.

The man shrugged his shoulders, "It is something the Americans do."

"Sounds like they want to say they invented something so they changed its name," Alek offered.

"Talking to Reza last night, I came on the idea of using our missing persons tech to locate a group of paramilitary persons from another country," the man said.

Alek's face relaxed into a thoughtful, but serious expression, "On a prudent level, are you sure we want to get involved in domestic troubles that are not part of our preview?"

"That did cross my mind, but I'm not ready to go home yet. We just got here, and even if we found and exported this group after lunch, we would still be here for at least a week to ten days getting the gambit back up and ready for red team operations. If we aren't going to help, however, we should just go back to Moscow for two months and then return."

A fast rapping on the door, followed by the knob turning, and the door opening arrested both of their attentions, and then Narges came in with packages of food, followed by Sara carrying more packages.

"You are awake," Narges said with encouragement. "That is good. I hope you are hungry."