The Secrets We Live In: A Novel

by Fazle Chowdhury

  "You can't make demands before you provide me with evidence," she responded. Nevertheless, she remained calm despite Mazaar's outbursts. She knew her priorities and how to handle the bad-tempered Mazaar.

  "Salima, you called this meeting because of the security of the Ambassador, and now you are not taking my warnings seriously? Don't you see the problem here" Mazaar shouted.

  Mazaar found it hard to control himself when angry for all his covert accomplishments. An underappreciated Mazaar contemplated storming out of the meeting, but at the door stood Ferdash, who wouldn't let any kind of friction go unresolved, especially in a close-knit group like theirs.

  "First, I'd like you to calm down, and second, we are talking about tonight's event, not about a past event," Salima said.

  All the security members could see the ferocious look on Mazaar's face. They knew that whatever Salima would say or not say would not satisfy the former commander. They also knew that Mazaar was loyal to the Ambassador. But despite their differences Ferdash, Mazaar and Salima, this trio played a role in many transformational moments for the Ambassador. As the three clashed under their present circumstances, they did previously help Zain steer his nuclear policy into the position where it was now —with both positive and negative consequences.

  Salima, the noted strategist, was the author of a 300-page document policy that originally began during her secret negotiations with directors of key international organizations that sought peaceful use of nuclear energy. It was facilitated and coordinated with the help of Ferdash and Mazaar's network of agents. Over the course of a year, it verified the necessary steps in Zain's nuclear policy that ensured his government's commitment to a nuclear program that would remain exclusively peaceful. Salima's key experiences in negotiations and her skilled way of putting a contract together strategically proved to be key to the policy. Going so far in demonstrating detailed steps in the quantity of enriched uranium that would be shipped out of the country, dismantlement processes, removal of centrifuges, calandria from its reactors, the steps to key access to the nuclear facilities itself and the road map, detailing supply chain activities —all put forth by Salima herself, with Ferdash and Mazaar providing key details and facts, also coordinated by their communications with their Generals.

  While the chemistry between Ferdash and Salima largely remained a brother and sister relationship, it was not so cordial between Mazaar and Salima. For Mazaar, Salima represented the new generation that had roots in the same establishment that betrayed him and led to the demise of his own military career. As Mazaar entered the security service of the Ambassador, he supported Zain's dual-track strategy of escalating his nuclear policy through a major covert buildup and bellicose rhetoric while quietly overseeing the security of other more covert activities, which would eventually help the Ambassador produce a better relationship with the rest of Europe. But the dogmatic Mazaar wanted to accomplish things fast. So when successful covert operations were working to build to his aims, the former commander sensed an opportunity and steadily pushed the Ambassador through Ferdash to establish personal dialogues. But it was here where Salima's skills came to the fore, and she took the role, sometimes diverting away from what Mazaar originally wanted.

  Mazaar had successfully and covertly approached spy networks across the Atlantic and given them whatever he could in the form of cooperation, information, technology, transport, and more, some of which also included an offer to spy for them. It was he who asked them to deliver Walter Ule. This time however his contacts did not honor their part of the bargain. Instead, they sent an English agent of Indian origin who had no alias and worked as a reporter named John Thomas to communicate with Mazaar. But Thomas was already on Ferdash's hit list. The introduction looked like a face-saving gesture to deliver Thomas as an asset and not derail the relationship between Mazaar and spy networks across the Atlantic.

  Mazaar supplied a tremendous amount of information across the Atlantic, including documents demonstrating that Zain's nuclear policy was something that could be a success. Like Europe, their partners across the Atlantic could benefit. But again, the response remained of little interest. All this went on without Salima's knowledge. When she did find out, she was furious. She led a scathing condemnation of Mazaar and personally requested that the Ambassador have a higher authority over him. Since then, there has been tension between them.

  While forced to work under Salima, Mazaar now had an uneasy relationship with her. It became strained periodically by conflicts. Several covert operations and mansion security-related matters underscored the need to meet the accelerating demands of Salima, which was why the Ferdash-Mazaar nexus operated independently and only related their activities on a need-to-know basis to Salima. With the recent neglect of Mazaar's protests, it would be hard as everyone in the room saw eliminating differences of analytic opinion between the two.

  "GET OUT OF THIS ROOM!" Salima shouted at Mazaar.

  By then, Mazaar had had enough. He stormed out, pushing Ferdash aside. Others watched with troubled faces.

  "Now that we've got the noise out of the room, everyone here will be given a list of things you need to keep a lookout for tonight," Salima said.

  She handed everyone a piece of paper that contained possible problems that could become an issue that evening. This ranged from traffic to parking and, most importantly, security checks with a requirement to register every single guest.

  "Is it really necessary to register everyone?" one of the men in attendance asked.

  "Yes! Especially the guests that make a big fuss! We want to make sure they know who the authority here is!" Salima responded.

  A hand was raised.

  "Yes."

  "Ma'am, the threat level stated here is high. May we know why?"

  Salima composed herself before replying. "I don't want to signal a huge alarm, but I think there may be a possibility of an incident tonight, as there are too many guests and not enough of us to guard the Ambassador," she said.

  "Any particular person or a description you can provide, Ma'am" another asked.

  "If I knew, don't you think I would've mentioned it?" Salima said.

  Ferdash weighed in. "Instead of emphasizing on more manpower, we can monitor access to all parts of the mansion with cameras. Guards would not be necessary. Instead, frequent monitoring by the cameras and alert functions in the security applications to control the gates would be good enough to stop an armed person."

  "Will all the guests be at the center of the garden?" asked another.

  Ferdash went on to say that as long as the power source remained intact, the center part of the mansion —the garden, which was where the majority of the guests would congregate would be well secure.

  "It's a six-minute ride from the gate to the garden," one of the security men said.

  "Which is more than enough time to detect and stop anyone," Ferdash replied confidently.

  There was murmuring among those present.

  "Come on now, spit it out. What's the problem?" Salima demanded.

  Berzad spoke up with a grim face. "Six minutes is not enough time!"

  Salima looked at Ferdash.

  "Talk to Mazaar about this. He is more experienced," she said.

  Ferdash agreed.

  The recommendation of having a few checkpoints for the guests to support the security was a valid concern. But Salima didn't want that. She wanted the guests to roam around freely. Something that would be hard to do under a possible threat or assassination.

  "Ma'am, we can maintain the security of the mansion, but we cannot do that and protect the Ambassador at the same time," someone said.

  Others agreed, but for Salima, that was not enough. The concern for the Ambassador needed to be focused on the security protocol required to operate in times like that. But should things not go according to plan, and the Ambassador was assassinated, the utter humiliation would fall on the security team and Salima.

  "Mazaar, Salima, and I will handle th
e Ambassador's security. The rest of you should focus on the security of the grounds," Ferdash said.

  But the men were still not satisfied. They requested more sensitive guard positions, if not formal checkpoints. But they agreed that surveillance cameras would help keep the mansion secure.

  Also, as another person in attendance pointed out, a situation whereby guests harassed the security men was unavoidable. What were they permitted to do? Such a large number of guests are hard to manage, coupled with their sense of entitlement. Could the security men use force?

  "I will determine that, and no one else," Ferdash said.

  The men in attendance wanted an elaborate explanation on what was allowed and what was not so that they would not become punching bags of convenience. Concerns about them reacting aggressively were not addressed, but the orders remained to guard the mansion as they saw fit.

  "If an assassin shows up and she is a woman, what are we supposed to do? You do realize we won't be able to stop her at the gate and monitor her throughout the night?" another security member asked nervously.

  "The lad does have a point," Ferdash whispered to Salima.

  She rolled her eyes and spoke up. "Ok, I'm putting all these concerns to rest. If you have any suspicion, report it to the surveillance team upstairs, and I'll deal with it since you all can't!"

  "Ma'am, that is not what I meant," the man who asked the question protested.

  Salima would not let the issue drag on. Some months ago, she witnessed an incident back in Monte Carlo when someone got out of his car and shot at her while accompanying the Ambassador. Mazaar had warned her, but she ignored it. Her security team claimed that the assassin had explosives. However, the police found no explosives or any gun after Ferdash gunned the man down. The shooter was later determined to be mentally disturbed, but Mazaar felt otherwise. The bullets on the car were evidence that more than one person or more than one team was involved in the operation to kill the Ambassador.

  Instances like what happened in Monte Carlo caused much nervousness among the security team. Underequipped and without a good defense strategy, they were constantly worried about the safety of the Ambassador.

  "All right, everyone, we'll do a huddle before beginning tonight's duty," Ferdash yelled out.

  Salima grabbed Ferdash's arm. "You'll lead this team tonight. I got Zain!"

  Ferdash nodded and exited the room. Then as everyone was leaving, Salima looked at Berzad and signaled him over.

  "You did as I asked?" Salima asked.

  "Yes. I turned on the center light and the grey ultra-light during the wedding ceremony as you instructed."

  The grey ultra-light laser was installed only a few days back to prevent visitors from recording the layout of the vicinity. Its sensitive bulb and ray produced another kind of light. When outside cameras took pictures, the ultra-light reflected off the mirrors and glasses around the center room, producing a negative effect that made it impossible to take photos or record videos. Most visitors thought their cameras were not functioning well and usually came back to try again.

  "Don't worry, Ma'am. That couple may have taken several pictures, but the only ones they'll be able to view are the ones they took outside the mansion," Berzad reassured her.

  Salima smiled. She knew Mazaar had good intentions, but her authority mattered more.

  ╔ ——————————————— ╗

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  ╚ ——————————————— ╝

  Zain walked over to the Babur, a decently sized corner chamber with a value not to be underestimated ―a firm enjoyable private separation from the rest of the mansion. He placed his lighter on one of the bookshelves. A faint light protruded as the small passage door opened. This was an old, stout door that blended in perfectly with the decor. The silver doorknob was the only anomaly. Zain felt the warmness of the doorknob. It was almost as if the heat had generated from it. Of course, Zain knew exactly where this secret passage would lead him.

  Skipping down the steps and pondering what he would say to Avinov, Zain hoped the haunting elements of his mansion would assist him. But that was not to be. His renaissance-style mansion was not built at the turn of the century but only a year back. Though the estate accommodated great comfort, it lacked the history of mansions around the city. As he arrived three stories down, Zain heard a creak. He slowly opened the door. He stood in front of another door that required access to enter. He needed to insert his 10-digit security code. He placed his left fingers on a scanner to do the input. A red display showed an error. This time, Zain realized his mistake and typed in the code with his right-hand fingers.

  Zain entered the secret passage and continued to his study where Avinov was waiting.

  “You’ve made me wait ten minutes,” he said.

  “Another five, and I would have left.”

  Avinov cracked a smile and gave Zain a handshake and a hug.

  “You couldn’t wait one more day,” chuckled Zain.

  “Well, something did come up, and I thought I should speak to you about it,” Avinov replied.

  Zain knew, regardless of what anyone in the diplomatic community said, Avinov mattered. He represented a government with the world's eleventh-largest economy and a country with nuclear power and a powerful, tech-savvy military.

  Faint peals of laughter drifted into the room, despite the intimate nature of the meeting in the underground room, giving Zain a sense of distraction.

  “Before you get started with business, you have to get me on the guest list of the fashion show at London’s Hilton Park Lane next month,” requested Zain.

  "I'm sure you want to attend, but I really wish you would take these meetings more seriously. I wouldn't have called for this meeting if I didn't feel it was important. This is something that can't wait."

  Zain watched Avinov’s face, trying to see any signs of exaggeration. He was known to overstate his problems, but something different in his face this evening made him look a decade older than he was.

  "Alexey, what is it?" Zain asked.

  "What happened?"

  Avinov took his time answering. He put his hand on Zain’s wrist.

  "I'm trying to figure out how to tell you."

  “Go on,” urged Zain.

  Avinov walked over to a bookcase. He bent down to look for a novel he so cherished to see if it was in the collection. At first glance, when he could not find it, he turned to Zain.

  "I spoke to the Foreign Minister," Avinov began.

  “I know you have your quarrels with one another, but I need you to work with him on this Zain…”

  "Stop right there. I thought you said this was important,’ said Zain.

  "It is," Avinov said commandingly.

  "If it involves that dwarf Toussaint, it’s not important. The man is a loon!” claimed Zain.

  Avinov gasped. He knew why Zain felt that way. Three months earlier, Toussaint abruptly announced—with no warning to the Minister of Defense—that Republique forces would withdraw all its troops in Afghanistan, Chad, Mali, and Iraq. Only an hour later, the president called a press conference to say no such measures had been worked out. When the announcement happened, Zain was drinking with his friend General Jeremiah Didier, the Chief of the Republique Army, at his home; Didier declared that he would not advance with such policy under any conditions.

  For Zain, the episode meant that Toussaint was trying to make a name for himself. Breaking with his president and cabinet but irresponsibly making a move and not taking the time to persuade the establishment. But he was also setting himself up as a viable presidential candidate for an election that was only two years away.

  Fellow diplomats agreed that such speedy withdrawal would, at the very least, put an already weak government under siege. In the interviews Toussaint gave afterward, Zain was absolutely convinced he was playing to a new group of supporters, mostly from the right.

  "Zain, Toussaint is worried about wh
at he has unleashed," said Avinov.

  "Oh, this is going to be good,"

  Zain leaned back in his chair.

  "What exactly is this warning he gave you? He’s starting another political party?"

  "Zain, he's worried about the refugee crisis, which will soon consume the Republique. He said if the Slavic states can’t handle it, the opposition will have a field day, not just here but all over Europe," Avinov explained.

  "And you decided to bring this up to me now, on a night I have more than guests I can remember their names of?”

  Zain began making himself a cranberry vodka tonic, continuing the discussion and mixing the drink.

  "This is something that should be discussed in front of the Prime Minister, not here and not now."

  "That's the problem. This isn't something that can wait a day longer. He made it very clear that we have to be partners in this refugee crisis or else…”

  “Or else what?”

  “He may not give his endorsement for the nuclear deal with your government.”

  Zain became furious and began to pace.

  “If that rat face thinks he can squeeze me into helping him with his domestic problems and put my government on the back burner, he has another thing coming,” said Zain, fuming.

  This was not his problem. An ambassador's job was to bring business—foreign business— home, and Zain was doing just that. He couldn’t play ball with domestic politics.

  “Zain, it’s but a small price to pay,” said Avinov.

  Aside from the consumptive rage he was feeling, he was at a loss as to what to do about the situation. He decided to make another drink.

  "And how am I going to be of help, Alexey?” he finally asked.

  Avinov hesitated.

  "It’s a little tricky."

  “Please, tell me you’re not convincing your president as you’re trying to convince me now, because come later this week, I’ll have to notify my Prime Minister, and let me tell you, he will not be happy,” said Zain.

  “Well, the matter is a little different on my side…Of the refugees, none come from our end, but some do come from yours.”