T he two young men now took up the tale. Taufiq el-Waziri had come to know the Americans very well, they said. Taufiq’s English was excellent, and he had been assigned responsibility for the el-Waziri’s franchise operations on and around the military bases. Taufiq grew to appreciate a great deal about the Americans, both enlisted men and officers. Taufiq relished their openness, their willingness to befriend, their desire to trust. This last trait he had found most remarkable of all. How they wanted to trust him.
Sameh watched Farouk el-Waziri sitting at the head of the table with tears streaming down his face. Finally the man turned to Jaffar and asked if he had caused his son to be taken. It was a question and a concern obviously mirrored by the two young men. Sameh could see fear and guilt etched into their features.
Jaffar responded with a readiness that suggested he had spent much time pondering this same issue. “Is my father responsible for me choosing a different course? Do I dishonor him by choosing this new direction? No, I honor my father above all other living men. I seek only to venerate him and his legacy. And yet I must be honest with myself. With respect, I do not agree with those clerics who denounce people of different faiths or tribes, who seek to maintain schisms within our society. With respect, I feel that we must find a better way, a means to unify our splintered society. With respect, I feel the future calls us in a direction that is different from our past. And that is how Taufiq would respond to you, were he here. With respect. And with clarity.”
The imam turned from the father to the two young men. “Please continue.”
Taufiq was convinced that Iraq could never have thrown off Saddam Hussein without outside help, they declared. And this help would never have come from other Arab states. Most of those nations are Sunni, and they took secret pleasure in seeing the Shia of Iraq so battered.
And then there were the Iranians. Unlike his father, Taufiq was very angry with the Iranian government. Out of respect, he never spoke of this openly. But Taufiq absolutely distrusted Iran’s leaders and everything they said. He believed they were terrified of the future and of change, of their loss of power and influence. He was certain the Iranians wanted nothing more than a weak and downtrodden Iraqi regime. One that could be manipulated and turned against the Americans.
Taufiq held his father in the highest regard. He would never do or say anything to bring dishonor upon the family. But Taufiq thought that when it came to Iran, his father was too trusting. The Iranians had centuries of experience in coating their lies with honey. They did not want a strong Iraq. Most especially, they did not want a strong democratic Iraq. Such a powerful and stable society could only heighten the threat Iran already was experiencing from its own younger generation.
Taufiq was convinced that the Iranians were the enemy. Not the Americans. Never the Americans.
The young men did not go silent as much as simply reach the end of their explanations. Marc was no longer looking at them. Sameh watched as the American stared at the table between his hands. He nodded slowly.
Finally, the elder el-Waziri said, “So it is not true, what the vizier claims. My son has not eloped with the American nurse.”
“I am the newcomer here,” Marc replied. “But I now know two things for certain. First, your son never dishonored your family’s name with either of these women. And secondly, your son meant no dishonor through his study with Alex and his friends.”
“And yet it was this study that has caused his disappearance.”
“If Alex thought he could bring the peace of Jesus one step closer to this wounded land, he would walk into the jaws of death. I assume the others thought the same way. Including your son.”
“Three Americans,” the imam said. “Sacrificing their lives. For Iraq.”
“Willingly,” Marc replied. “Without a moment’s hesitation.”
The father covered his eyes with his hands. Jaffar glanced at the table’s opposite end, but he directed his question to Marc. “Why is it, I wonder, that the American officials refuse to acknowledge these people are missing?”
“Because there are people in our government who have no time for Jesus,” Marc replied. “They consider these gatherings a threat to their concept of Mideast stability. They fear the reaction if these secret meetings ever became known. A rising up of the conservative elements. A twisting of this into greater volatility.”
“Which would also explain,” Jaffar said, “why my inquiries to our own government came up with nothing.”
“They are terrified,” Sameh agreed. “Conflicted. Disturbed.”
“Both sides, the Iraqis and the Americans, see something at work within their own ranks over which they have no control,” Jaffar said.
“It is one thing to join with Sunni and Kurd and Christian beneath a banner of politics,” Hamid Lahm said.
“It is another thing entirely to add the name of Jesus to it all,” Jaffar finished.
There was no obvious reason why hearing the imam speak that holy name should cause shivers to race through Sameh’s body. But he could not deny the effect, not when his voice shook as he translated.
Only Marc seemed unaffected. He asked through Sameh, “Is there anything else you think we should know?”
The pair exchanged glances, then the stockier young man said, “We have been warned.”
“When was this?”
“The night before last. They found us at a cafe where we often go. They said we must not speak of anything. They mentioned you, the American who asks the wrong questions. We said we did not know you, or anything of value. They said that was the correct answer, the only one which would save us from joining those who are lost.”
Jaffar nodded slowly. “My chief aide has received a similar warning.”
Marc looked from the young men to Jaffar and back. “Describe the ones who warned you.”
“Five of them,” the slender man replied. “Bearded. They spoke Arabic with a Farsi accent.”
“Six accosted my aide,” Jaffar said. “He is certain they were all Iranian.”
Marc asked, “When was this?”
“Today. While I was with my father, visiting the hospital.” Jaffar’s smile held no humor whatsoever. “They vowed their next attack would not fail.”
There was a long silence. Then Sameh asked the question for them all. “What do we do now?”
Marc returned to an inspection of the table between his hands. He finally said, “I have an idea.”