One Night in Tehran: A Titus Ray Thriller

by Luana Ehrlich

  When I tried to explain how I’d been involved in the Denton raid, he just brushed it off and told me my actions were proof I needed to get back to work.

  After I hung up the phone, Stormy walked over and dropped his ball at my feet.

  I picked it up and held it in front of him. “So tell me what I’m supposed to do now?”

  He didn’t have a clue.

  However, after thinking about it all afternoon, I did.

  CHAPTER 32

  The next morning, after making my chili and putting it in a crock-pot to simmer all day, I telephoned Nikki. She told me she was being released from the hospital within a few hours, and then she gave me directions to her house.

  Around noon, I went by my bank and took care of several business transactions.

  An hour after I returned home, I had two visitors.

  They produced dozens of documents for me to sign.

  Then, I was off to see Nikki.

  Nikki lived in a residential area on the east side of Norman off Alameda Avenue.

  Her small, ranch-style home was a combination of gray and charcoal-colored bricks with windows bordered by black wooden shutters. Along the sidewalk leading up to the front door were rows of pink and red begonias. Two large geranium plants in black wooden buckets anchored each side of her small front porch.

  I approached her door with a mixture of joy and sadness.

  Nikki appeared at the threshold the moment I stepped on the porch.

  She looked a lot different from the last time I’d seen her in the hospital. Now, her color was back to normal, and she had on a pair of jeans and a sleeveless white blouse. Her hair was falling about halfway down her shoulders, and she was wearing a blue arm sling around her neck.

  As I walked in the door with my pot of chili, she said, “That smells delicious.”

  “Where shall I put it?”

  “Follow me.”

  As I walked through her living room, I remembered what she’d said about being a messy housekeeper. However, I could see no evidence of this claim.

  The room was decorated in different shades of blue and had big yellow throw pillows everywhere. It looked very inviting.

  When we arrived in the kitchen, she had me put the crock-pot on an island in the center of the room.

  “I made us some cornbread to go with the chili,” she said, “but it’s going to be a few minutes before it’s ready. Would you like a glass of tea while we wait?”

  I nodded. “Sounds good.”

  While she was getting the tea out of the refrigerator, I had one last argument with myself.

  Then I said, “I need to go back out to my car. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Nikki had already filled two large tumblers with ice and was just in the act of pouring tea into them when I returned to the kitchen. When she saw me, she put the tea pitcher down.

  Coming around from behind the kitchen island, she said. “Well, this is a surprise.”

  Stormy obediently sat down beside me while she stroked his head. As a precaution, I held onto his leash to keep him from jumping up on her.

  “I didn’t think you’d mind if I brought him with me.”

  “No, of course not.”

  After I took his leash off, Stormy followed us into the living room. Nikki sat down on the couch, and I sat down opposite her in a blue leather chair, while Stormy wandered around the room sniffing the carpet.

  “Let’s not talk about Farah’s murder or the Shahid investigation tonight,” Nikki said. “My captain has scheduled me for two interviews tomorrow, and I know that’s just the beginning. When the Feds release my name to the press, the reporters will probably be camped out on my street for days.”

  “You’re right. You’re about to be grilled by all kinds of government agencies. You should ask Danny to keep the press off your front porch, though.”

  Stormy came over to the couch and sat down at Nikki’s feet. She winced as she leaned over to pet him, and I immediately asked her if she were okay. However, she brushed me off.

  “I’m not talking about myself tonight. It’s your turn.”

  “I’ve led a very boring life.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “I can assure you the parts I’m able to talk about are really very boring.”

  “Okay, tell me about your childhood then.”

  I gave her a short version of growing up in Flint, trying to make it as dull as possible.

  But then, Nikki turned into Detective Saxon and refused to accept my superficial descriptions of my family relationships. Instead, she began firing questions at me. As a result, I ended up being honest with her about my dad’s alcoholism, and the toll it had taken on the family.

  I even told her about my failed marriage to Laura.

  Just as I finished, the oven timer went off, and we went back to the kitchen where I ladled out two big bowls of chili, while Nikki removed the cornbread from the oven.

  As she was cutting it into squares, I sampled a piece. “This is terrific. I’m lousy when it comes to making cornbread, although I do have one fan.” I pointed down at Stormy.

  “Really? I’ve never heard of a dog who eats cornbread.”

  As I related the time Stormy ate my cornbread in the storm shelter during the tornado, Nikki laughed so hard it made her shoulder hurt.

  In the days that followed, it was hard to get that sound out of my head.

  After we sat down to eat, Nikki said a blessing over our food, and that was when I decided to tell her about my recent conversion to Christianity.

  “This may not take very long, because, as much as I’d like to do so, I can’t give you a very detailed account of my circumstances at that moment.”

  “That’s fine. Just tell me what you can.”

  “I was on assignment in an Islamic country,” I told her, “and to say things hadn’t gone as planned would definitely be an understatement. To make matters even more difficult, in the midst of a very hostile environment, I had broken my leg and couldn’t leave the country. However, with the help of one of our allies, I was taken in by a Christian couple. During the months I lived with them, they so modeled a life of faith in front of me, I knew I wanted that same kind of life for myself.

  “While that decision was momentous for me, what has been even more earth-shattering is the realization it was only the first step in a lifelong journey. Sometimes I feel like a child learning to walk. I keep stumbling all over the place. The first time I didn’t lose my temper, I was very proud of myself, but then I turned right around and exploded at someone. I haven’t figured out if my desire to serve the Lord can possibly be compatible with my career as an intelligence officer. But right now, I know for certain that’s what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “If you’re looking for affirmation,” Nikki said, “I wholeheartedly agree. I’m sure you’re very good at what you do.”

  “My boss at the Agency seems to agree with you.”

  I hesitated for a brief moment.

  Then I added, “I’m leaving for Langley tomorrow.”

  Nikki looked shocked. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

  I found the disappointment in her voice oddly comforting.

  “Yes, I have an assignment waiting for me at Langley on Monday morning.”

  “Didn’t you tell me you were supposed to be on medical leave for a year?”

  “I was, and I have to admit I’m surprised they’re going to waive my leave, but there are some special circumstances involved in this assignment.”

  She remained quiet for a few seconds. Then, she started to speak, but, after opening and closing her mouth a couple of times, she just shook her head and turned silent once again.

  I tried to help her out. “I know this isn’t easy when you have a dozen questions you’d like to ask me.” She attempted a smile. “I’m really sorry I can’t be more forthcoming with you.”

  Finally, she asked, “What will you do with Stormy?”

  At the mention of
his name, Stormy trotted over to her.

  “That’s the reason I brought him with me tonight. I wanted to ask you if Stormy could stay with you while I’m out of the country.”

  She pushed her empty chili bowl away and started scratching Stormy behind his ears. As he stood there with his teeth showing, panting, and smiling from ear to ear, I was shocked to realize I was going to miss him—I was going to miss having a dog in my life.

  “Oh, my,” she said to him, “you’re so handsome. How could I ever refuse you anything?” She turned to me. “Of course, I’d be glad to keep him for you. But does that mean you’ll be coming back to Norman?”

  I nodded. “Yesterday I got in touch with Eric Hawley. He’s the realtor handling Phillip Ortega’s property. I had him make Ortega an offer on his property, and he accepted it. Now the place is mine.”

  She shook her head back and forth. “I can’t believe he sold it to you just like that. Professor Ortega loved that place.”

  “I gave him a substantial amount of cash, so he wasn’t all that reluctant to sell. I also believe Hawley really encouraged him to accept my offer, because not only is Hawley going to get a big commission out of this sale, I’ve also asked him to manage the property while I’m away.”

  She got up from the table and took our bowls over to the sink. She didn’t say anything while she poured coffee into two mugs. When she finally spoke, there was a tearful catch in her voice. “How long will you be gone?”

  “That’s hard to say. It could be a week or it could be a year. There’s no way of telling.”

  “Can you tell me how dangerous this assignment is?”

  I answered her honestly. “Most of my assignments are dangerous in one way or the other. But consider what the two of us went through this week in Norman, and I wasn’t even on an assignment here.”

  “Of course, you’re right,” she said, returning to the table with a cup of coffee for each of us.

  I added, “However, I have to believe the job I’m doing overseas limits the danger from spreading over here.”

  “I certainly saw the implications of that with Farah’s murder.”

  Even though we said we weren’t going to talk about it, we ended up discussing Bashir and the investigation of the Hezbollah cells for the remainder of the evening.

  For my part, I welcomed the conversation because it delayed my inevitable goodbye. However, after retrieving Stormy’s toys from my car, I knew the time had come for me to leave.

  “I’ve never had this problem before,” I told her. “I usually don’t have to say goodbye to anyone.”

  Forcing a smile, she said, “I’m not saying goodbye, Titus.”

  I walked toward the front door.

  However, before opening it, I turned around and gave her a hug.

  It proved to be very awkward because of her arm sling, and, as we pulled away, we both laughed a little nervously.

  “Before you go,” she said, “would you answer a question for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “You asked me the other day what I considered to be the most important thing in the world to me. How would you answer that question?”

  I took a second before replying.

  “I don’t know for sure, Nikki, but I believe I’m closer to an answer right now than I’ve ever been before.”

  The next morning, I left for Langley and the hunt for Ahmed.

  THE END

  Or just

  THE BEGINNING

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Luana Ehrlich is a freelance writer, minister’s wife, and former missionary with a passion for spy thrillers and mystery novels. She began her series of Titus Ray novels when her husband retired from the pastorate. Now, she writes from an undisclosed location, trying to avoid the torture of mundane housework, grocery shopping, and golf stories. Occasionally, she comes out of hiding to see her two grandsons or to enjoy a Starbucks caramel macchiato. She resides in Norman, Oklahoma. You’re invited to visit the author’s website LuanaEhrlich.com or TitusRayThrillers.com.

  A NOTE TO MY READERS

  Thank you for reading One Night in Tehran, Book I in the Titus Ray Thriller Series. If you enjoyed it, you might also like Book II, Two Days in Caracas. Available on Amazon.

  In Book II, Titus travels from Costa Rica to Venezuela in an effort to stop the Hezbollah assassin, Ahmed Al-Amin, from murdering a high-profile government official. Along the way, a family crisis jeopardizes his mission, and an Agency division head threatens to destroy his career. As the danger mounts, he’s forced to partner with an untested operative to complete the mission and bring Ahmed to justice. Will he make it in time?

  Book III, Three Weeks in Washington, is available on Amazon here. In Book III, Titus is faced with a chemical weapons attack on Washington, D. C. As he races across two continents pursuing the Jihadi terrorists, he encounters an Iranian general obsessed with destroying America and exposes an Iranian deep-cover operative with close ties to America’s leaders.

  Book IV, Four Months in Cuba will be published Fall 2017.

  Titus loves to cook, and when he’s on a mission and has to spend long hours in a safe house, he often cooks up a meal for his fellow operatives. You can download Titus Ray Thriller Recipes with Short Stories for $0.99 for your Kindle on Amazon.

  Want to know more about Titus Ray and get updates on the series? You can sign up for the Titus Ray Thriller Newsletter. When you sign-up, you’ll receive Titus Ray’s Famous Chili Recipe for free.

  If you enjoyed One Night in Tehran, please consider posting a short review on Amazon. Since word-of-mouth testimonies and written reviews are usually the deciding factor in helping readers pick out a book, they serve as an author’s best friend and are much appreciated. Click here to post a review.

  More information about Titus Ray is available on my personal website LuanaEhrlich.com or on the TitusRayWebsite.

  One of my greatest blessings comes from receiving email from my readers. My email address is author@luanaehrlich.com. I’d love to hear from you!

  A first chapter excerpt from Two Days in Caracas is available on the following pages.

  Thanks for being a Titus Ray Thriller fan!

  Luana

  Two Days in Caracas: A Titus Ray Thriller

  The hunt for Ahmed Al-Amin continues in Two Days in Caracas, Book II of the Titus Ray Thriller series.

  In this pulse-racing Christian thriller, CIA intelligence officer, Titus Ray, travels from Costa Rica to Venezuela in an effort to stop the Hezbollah assassin, Ahmed Al-Amin, from murdering a high-profile government official.

  Along the way, a family crisis jeopardizes his mission, and an Agency division head threatens to destroy his career. As the danger mounts, he’s forced to partner with an untested operative to complete the mission and bring Ahmed to justice. Will he make it in time? Purchase Two Days in Caracas on Amazon here.

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1

  Monday, June 4

  I needed to move. I needed to do it soon. I was standing inside the doorway of an apartment building on Calle Alturas, just a few blocks from downtown San José, Costa Rica. It was an ideal location, but I knew my presence was going to start drawing attention any minute.

  Right now, the torrential downpour made it appear as if I were simply seeking shelter from the rain. However, such tropical afternoon showers usually gave way to sunny skies very rapidly in this part of the world.

  Once that happened, I would need to move quickly.

  I studied the house on the corner. Then, I scanned my surroundings for a building public enough for me to monitor the residence from a distance.

  The overall construction of the house, with its concrete-block walls and iron bars across the windows, appeared typical for the neighborhood.

  I could see nothing unusual about it.

  However, its innocuous look didn’t mean anything. In fact, the normality of the place made it easy for me to believe it might be Ahmed Al-Amin’s safe house in San José.
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  On the other hand, I wasn’t totally convinced Ahmed was even in Costa Rica in the first place.

  When I’d arrived at the CIA’s Operations Center in Langley, Virginia, Douglas Carlton, my operations officer, had briefed me on the status of Ahmed Al-Amin, the Hezbollah assassin I was tracking. Afterward, I’d questioned one of the Agency’s logistics analysts on the authenticity of the San José address he’d given me.

  “How can you be certain Ahmed is at this location?” I’d asked him.

  “Because we’re getting pings from all the texting.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t believe Ahmed is using an unencrypted cell phone. He’s one of Hezbollah’s top operatives, and if he’s using his cell phone, he certainly knows our satellites can track him.”

  “Oh, it’s not Ahmed who’s doing the texting. It’s the Venezuelan kid who’s with him. Every night he sends a text message back to his girlfriend in Austin. Ahmed might not even know the guy is using his cell phone.”

  Would Ahmed really be that oblivious to what his traveling companion were doing? Somehow, I doubted it, but I didn’t argue with the impossibly young analyst.

  Instead, I turned my attention to Josh Kellerman, a briefer from Support Services, who spent the next thirty minutes going over my legend, explaining the myriad of details involved in the cover identity I would be using in Costa Rica.

  My business card indicated I was Rafael Arroyo, Vice President of Sales for Global Resources. Kellerman gave me a brief overview of the industrial refrigeration units I was supposed to be selling, along with several boring, but very colorful brochures.

  The Rafael Arroyo legend was one I’d used on previous trips to the Middle East, although then I’d been given an Arabic name. Strangely enough, I felt very comfortable in the skin of a refrigeration salesman.

  Following my briefing with Kellerman, I went over to meet with Sandy Afton. She was in the southwest wing of the Agency’s New Headquarters Building where Support Services had an area the size of a department store, which was solely devoted to men and women’s clothing. Although the women’s section was twice as large as the men’s section, I’d never questioned the need for this.