42
“Good evening, President Matthews.”
Lola listened to the voice on the speakerphone. Cultured, smooth, careful. She looked at the biography now showing on the main screen of the Situation Room. A slender man with a short, graying beard. A pleasant smile graced his face in several of the photos. Educated at Oxford, and still the Iranians had elected him president. A surprise there. A Western-educated leader. Or was he chosen by the latest Ayatollah? Lola couldn’t remember quite how their government worked.
“Good evening, President Madani. How can we help you this evening?” President Matthews sounded casual, as if greeting a friend over a beer.
“I am hoping that you and I alone could discuss a small problem we are having.”
President Matthews glanced around, signaling that they should
