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answered. He turned to the NIO for Science and Technology. “Maurice. Do you or your people have any additional dots we could connect to this?”
     
    “Not that I’m aware of, but we’ll begin a complete review immediately.”
     
    “Do it quickly, but quietly, Maurice,” Duvall instructed. “Too many people with clearances have reporters on their speed-dialers.” His tone mixed frustration with contempt.
     
    Duvall stood and walked to the front of the room and addressed the entire group. “We may have the ‘whether’ and ‘when’ to one of the biggest intelligence questions of this decade. The only problem is, it goes against everything we’ve been saying. Everybody here understands how thoroughly we have to nail this down. I’ve asked Dr. Mizrahi here because his office has the in-depth technical expertise, but I will be asking other NIOs, like Military Issues or South Asia to follow the thread that Todd Allison has described.
     
    “Look for information that confirms or refutes this analysis, and ways for us to improve our knowledge. My intention is to have an intelligence community brief on this for the president within forty-eight hours. Our next meeting on this topic will be at eleven hundred tomorrow. Do your best work, everyone.”
     
    The meeting broke up quietly. Randolph was pleased, but wondered how long their restraint would last. He walked with the general back to his office, just a short distance. Once Randolph’s door was closed, Duvall sat and took the china coffee cup Randolph offered.
     
    “Here are my recommendations for retasking satellites and aircraft.” Randolph didn’t wait to be told what to do.
     
    Duvall said, “Thanks,” studied the document, and smiled. “This will keep everyone busy. I’ll send it up the chain.”
     
    Randolph asked, “I wonder what the Israelis will do with this.” The same agreement that allowed the U.S. to receive Israeli intelligence data required that the fruits of that data be shared with the Israelis.
     
    “Shoot, Ed, I don’t know what we’re going to do with it.” Duvall replied. “This is counter to everything we know about the Iranian program. That’s why everybody was so shocked in there.”
     
    Randolph nodded. The U.S. had devoted considerable effort to tracking the Iranians’ nuclear progress, and he’d seen plenty of both “technical intelligence,” meaning satellite photos and communication intercepts, and “human intelligence,” meaning agents on the ground. It all said that an Iranian bomb was years away. Now everything they knew was suspect.
     
    “I’ll review what we’ve got and look for holes or hidden assumptions,” Randolph promised the general.
     
    “See you at eleven tomorrow.”
     
    ~ * ~
     
    Officer’s Quarters, Natanz Nuclear Enrichment Facility
     
    They tried to eat together at least a few times a week. Between Shirin’s long hours in the lab and Yousef’s air defense duties, it was often hurried, with a return to work for one or both of them, or a solitary meal while the other worked through the evening hours. And sometimes, rarely, they both had the evening free.
     
    Married only a few years, separations made evenings together all the sweeter. Shirin was out of her first trimester, and her appetite had partially returned. The meal was simple—kebabs, vegetables, and Lavash bread—and the maid had used a southern recipe, reminding Shirin of home. They avoided shoptalk, sticking to office gossip and plans for the baby’s arrival. They discussed plans to visit Shirin’s mother in a few weeks.
     
    After dinner, over Shirin’s protests, Yousef insisted on an evening walk. “It’s mild enough with a coat, and the baby needs the exercise.”
     
    “Then let the baby do the walking. I’m tired.”
     
    “You sit in a laboratory all day.” Strong-willed in so many things, she let her husband usher her out the door of their dormitory apartment. It was nice enough, suitable for a