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recommend that our source in Baghdad substantiate your story about your…er…demise in that country. Could you give me a time and date when it happened?”
    “I could. In the early hours of May 27…the time was around two-fifteen.”
    “How did the man die? What did you use?”
    “Knife, sir. Throat.”
    “Quieter…mmmm?”
    “Exactly so, sir.”
    “Any other details?”
    “Yes. After a long manhunt, they were unsuccessful in finding me.”
    “Very clever, Eilat.”
    “Just professional.”
    “Would you have any interest in telling me precisely what you intend to perpetrate against the Great Satan?”
    “I should prefer not to. Unless I was in the presence of the man making the decision, and in the presence of the military commander with whom I would have to work.”
    “I understand. But would you propose the targets be military ones?”
    “Not necessarily.”
    “On the question of Fundamentalism, would you say our religious beliefs are your prime reason for wishing to carry out such operations?”
    “No. That was so when I was an idealist, serving my country abroad. But no longer. I have simply come to the realization that I know no other trade. It is all I have to sell. And every man has to earn a living. I believe my talent is valuable, and I see your country as a place that might use me in a way that would put Iraq in the worst possible light on the world stage. Especially in the Pentagon, which would be likely to move against them.”
    “I do agree with you. The idea has considerable appeal for me personally, and I suspect it will have for several others as well.”
    “Yessir. Might I ask who will make the final decision?”
    “Oh, the Ayatollah himself. In association with one or two senior military commanders.”
    “The fewer people who know the precise nature of the missions, the better.”
    “Correct, Eilat. That is correct.”
    They walked in silence for a few minutes, pacing through the great stone vault in the southeastern corner of the mosque. Then the hojjat spoke again. ”Is there any further evidence available to us, that you are who you say you are?”
    “Sir, I have written my address—the address in which the killing took place—on this piece of paper. I am sure you could send someone in to make inquiries. You will find bloodstains on the floor in the main hall, and you will find holes in the wood above the door where I attached a bracket to the wall. I expect my possessions have been removed.”
    “Thank you, and yes, we will conduct those checks in Baghdad immediately…and if you are lying, we will, of course, not contact you again. If the checks are correct, as I suspect they will be, we will be in communication very quickly, because you obviously could prove extremely useful to us. Whether or not you are able to conduct the military operations you plan will be for others to decide. When and if you wish to divulge them.”
    The two men shook hands as before, and Eilat walked back outside, where the student waited to escort him to the hotel. Instructions were succinct—remain in place until we contact you again in the next few days.”
    At $80 a night in the Hotel Abbassi, I trust they’ll be quick, he thought, as they strolled back through the vast expanse of Imam Khomeini Square.
     
    The next three days passed slowly. Eilat spent his time sleeping and regaining the weight he had lost. And then, on the morning of July 23, the phone call came. It was from the young student guide, who said simply, “Please catch the noon train to Tehran. A room is booked for you at the Hotel Bolvar, under the name Mr. Eilat. You will be contacted this evening.” At which point he replaced the phone.
    The train ran into Tehran on time, shortly before four in the afternoon. Eilat wore his Iranian robes and turban and carried his leather bag. He settled down in the modest room on the third floor to await his call. It came at 5:06. It was another theological student, who announced he was in