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grudge, as he had discovered much to his chagrin on several other occasions…
    â€œRyan, I take it you feel sure enough to move on this?” Harper asked.
    Kealey snapped back from his thoughts, turning his full attention to the other man.
    â€œIt’s March on that tape, John, I’m positive. If we can place him here during the attack, well, that’s another question. It would help if we had some witnesses to talk to. If their stories match up, then we might have a foundation to build on.”
    Harper nodded his agreement and turned to the only other person in the room, a small young woman seated on the other side of the coffee table. “What did you turn up in the interviews, Naomi?”
    â€œNothing new from the civilians, sir, but the Secret Service has already consulted with their person on the scene. They’ve faxed me a copy of her account. She only got a brief look, but it’s enough to confirm the other descriptions: Caucasian male, late twenties to early thirties, medium height, lean build. More importantly, she was the only witness confident enough to pick someone out of the photographs. Iran doesn’t have an embassy here in Washington, of course, but they do have a special-interest group located in the Pakistani embassy. Our people were watching the building five minutes after the attack, and there was no real fluctuation in traffic in or out.
    â€œThat’s the bad news. It’s going to be tough to stick this to the regime in Tehran. However, it’s possible, even likely, that this new government has direct ties to Al-Qaeda. If we can dig something up there, we would definitely have a silver bullet to hand to the U.N.”
    Harper was looking thoughtfully out the window as she spoke. When he swiveled back in her direction, he nodded briefly and gave her a polite smile. “Thanks, Naomi. Would you mind excusing us for a moment?”
    She didn’t move for a couple of seconds, then stood up without looking in Kealey’s direction. “Of course, sir.”
    â€œI take it she’s cleared for this.” Ryan asked after she had left the room and closed the heavy door behind her, perhaps slightly harder than necessary. On the other side of the wall, a light flashed red next to the door frame, announcing that they were not to be disturbed.
    Harper nodded wearily. “Naomi Kharmai. From what I’m told, she’s a rising star in the CTC,” he said, referring to the Agency’s counterterrorism department. “She’s finishing up her master’s in computer science at GWU. From London, originally, but she speaks four languages, including Arabic and Farsi. That’s why she’s in on this. Otherwise, I’d probably get someone with a little more experience.”
    Ryan wasn’t surprised to hear that Kharmai was British. The accent was a dead giveaway, but there were other factors to take into account. Although the CIA depended on foreign assets for much of its hard intel, many were also brought in as full-time employees at Langley, especially in recent years. Of course, they underwent a rigorous security screening before they were offered positions, and even then, they were periodically checked up on by the internal Office of Security. Most of the Agency’s foreign-born recruits were never aware that they were lightly surveilled by their own employer from time to time, without regard for rank or seniority.
    â€œDo I have to ask who Lawrence identified?”
    Harper shook his head and pushed an 8 x 10 across the coffee table. When Ryan picked it up, he found himself staring at the same person in the videotapes. It was the man he knew as Jason March.
    â€œObviously, we’ve known about this for some time,” the DDO was saying. “There’s more, of course; one of ours was attached to the Special Forces team that cleared those caves. In addition to the videotape, he bagged some papers that had been partially