The Big Blu Sky-Twenty-four

They stood beside the Bosporus, not far from Molly’s hotel. The lights from the Asia side blinked like so many stars in the building humidity, crowded upon the hillside and silhouetted against the curtain of black night. To the west a storm was growing, tendrils of bright gold and blue lightening reaching across towering thunderheads. The thunderheads built until the jet stream tore away the tops in ghost-white shrouds. The hum and chatter of the living city was silenced in gusts that drew snow-white tassels upon the black waters of the channel. Molly and Doug were leaning on a rail. She felt electric at the warmth of Doug’s arm so close to hers.

She was thinking that it would be nice if Doug kissed her, though she would never have dared to utter such a thought out loud. He was so attractive and interesting, and so married, and Molly wondered if she could ever be the “other” woman. Still, there was a connection that was impossible to deny. Whether or not she would act on that attraction was still an open question.

He was away in thought. Molly looked up at him and noted that far away expression. It was as if he was struggling with something.

“Care to share, Doug?”

He shook the thought away.

“Thinking about Shosa and Fallahi. On some levels I can understand the Iranians positions and motivations, but then they do all this stupid shit that erases any sympathy for their position.”

“The nuclear thing?”

“Truth of it is, a few technologically advanced nations are wrong to prevent new technologies from reaching less advanced nations. Its quite impossible really. It would be akin to banning the piston engine because they might produce tanks instead of automobiles.”

“Don’t you think that the technologies that provide weapons of mass destruction to rogue or irresponsible states is different?”

"Maybe."

"So what is Fallahi's part in all this?"

“Iran’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs and their embassies provide a support network for international cells funneling money, messages, supplies, weapons.”

“Like the CIA.”

“You argue like a lawyer,” he smiled.

“Got my law degree at John Marshall.”

“"I'll concede that there’s a fundamental difference. The Iranian government is loaded with former Revolutionary Guard commanders; Minister of Energy, Welfare and Social Security, Housing and Urban development, Labor and Social Affairs. The Minister of Education headed the Secret Police in Tehran at one point.”

A virtual military junta,” Molly observed.

“Exactly.”

“And Fallahi?”

“Listen, I have no illusions about Fallahi.” Doug folded his arms and leaned back against the rail.

“What is that relationship, if you don’t mind me asking?” she said.

“Not asking as a federal Agent?”

Molly smiled. “Off the record.”

He breathed deeply. “We use one another, and there is an implied respect in that.”

"But you don't completely trust him?"

“Two Years ago three men murdered an Iranian-Kurdish dissenter in Lindsborg, Sweden. Reportedly Fallahi was in Sweden at the time and closely matches the description of one of the assassins.”

“Anyway,” he stood to face her. “Enough of politics.”

In flashes on distant lightening, the city lights sparkling in her eyes, Doug was taken by her dark beauty. The wind tugged a lock of hair across her cheek, and it was all he could do not to push it away. He knew too well where that could lead, but still the temptation remained. He imagined kissing her soft lips, drawing her into his arms. It had been so long since he had felt a woman. He thought of Jane, struggling with cancer and felt so ashamed simply for the thought, but Molly was here and so beautiful.

“Want to come up for a bit?” she asked, her eyes like deep dark beckoning pools. He looked away, towards Asia. He smiled and, when he felt a bit stronger, found her eyes once more.

“Maybe its best that I just say goodnight.”