Whiplash by Dale Brown Page B

It still sold, of course—China was more than willing to break the embargo if the price was right and the transactions were carried out in secret—but the severe discounts forced on the country hardly made it worth pumping from the ground. The United States, the Satan Incarnate and the Revolution’s traditional enemy, had engineered the boycott, changing its own energy policies to dramatically reduce its dependence on oil and make it possible.
    Luo’s demise did not directly threaten Aberhadji’s project. His organization supplied only a very few of the many items required, and it had been months since Aberhadji used them. Many people would have cause to kill Luo, including his own associates. But Aberhadji immediately began making inquiries.
    Aberhadji’s main agent in Africa, a slightly disreputable yet ultimately reliable Guard member named Arash Tarid, had checked into the murder only hours after it happened. He believed the Egyptian secret service had been involved. But that belief appeared to be based only on rumors.
    Aberhadji decided that he would take the opportunity to visit his deputies involved in the special project. He was due to make his rounds within a month anyway; doing so now, to make sure everything was secure, would put his own fears to rest. He’d pay special attention to the posts in the Sudan, even visiting the facilities personally.
    And so he went to see his superior at the motor vehicle bureau to ask for unscheduled time off.
    Like many in the ministry, Rhaim Fars had gotten his job because he was related to someone in the central government, in his case an uncle who was close to the Iranian president. That president had left office nearly a decade before, but Fars retained his position for several reasons, not least of which was his generosity and benevolence toward those he suspected had better political connections than he did. Still, Aberhadji’s request for an indefinite leave tested his goodwill.
    “Perhaps we should put a limit on it,” said Fars, gesturing to his underling to have a seat. He poured him some water, then took a sip of his own. Fars did not know that Aberhadji was even a member of the Revolutionary Guard, and would have been surprised to find out how important he really was.
    “I am not sure how long my business will take,” said Aberhadji.
    “And it’s of a personal nature?”
    Aberhadji said nothing. He would not lie, but he would also not say anything that would reveal either his position or his interests. Obtaining the vacation time was merely a matter of being persistent.
    “We are approaching our renewal time,” said Fars. “There will be demands for our paperwork.”
    “Mine are in order.”
    The true issue for Fars was not the paperwork, but the inspections that followed; the minister liked to see the entire staff at his welcoming party.
    On the other hand, Aberhadji would not contribute to his “present”—a sizable amount of money that would be presented “spontaneously” at the party. This was little more than a kickback by the employed to maintain their status. To smooth the waters, Fars had made up Aberhadji’s share the last two years. And come to think of it, Aberhadji had left very early the year before, so early that the minister surely saw him go—something more noticeable, and therefore more insulting, than his not showing up at all. So Fars reasoned that perhaps it was not important that Aberhadji be there after all.
    “You have personal time accrued,” said Fars, deciding he would find an excuse that would allow the vacation. “That was my point in asking the question. You have not taken any time to tend to your family, and a man like you, a pious man, has a great deal of obligations, thanks be to the Prophet.”
    Aberhadji nodded. He had no immediate family and had had none since he was young. His father had died in the war against Iraq, and his mother passed away a year later, mostly out of grief.
    “Well then, let us put you