The Increment: A Novel - By David Ignatius Page 0,134

need to talk to you, Daddy,” she said dramatically. “I’ve made a big decision. I don’t want to go to college.”

Harry was flummoxed. Louise was a junior in high school. This was the year she needed to be thinking about getting ready for college, not about how to avoid it.

“College is important, Lulu. Unless you go to college, you won’t get a good job. And you’ll be poor, and you’ll have to work at Wal-Mart or mow people’s lawns or be a bum. You have to go to college.”

“I’ll go to college sometime, Daddy, but not now. That’s what I meant. I don’t want to go now. I want to do something else. The world is such a mess. I couldn’t concentrate if I was in school, I would just think about all the people who are miserable. I want to work for Doctors Without Borders. They talked about it on Scrubs.”

“But Lulu, you have to be a doctor to work for Doctors Without Borders. Or a nurse. Get your education. The world will still be a mess when you graduate, I promise.”

“No, I want to go now. I need to. There’s this cool organization I found out about called FXB that helps AIDS orphans in Africa. Maybe I can work for them. I can’t just sit here and let it all happen, Daddy. I can’t.”

“Let’s talk about it later, Lulu. I understand what you’re saying, but I have to go to work now. I’ll be proud of you whatever you do. You have a big heart. That’s the most important thing.”

She gave him another hug and walked him to the car. As Harry was driving down Route 7, it occurred to him that Louise was like her brother Alex. She was an idealist. She couldn’t wait to make a difference. She was talking about saving orphans in Africa with the same passion that Alex had expressed about stopping the people who had destroyed the Twin Towers. Maybe that was the difference. A page had turned.

Harry got to headquarters in the late afternoon. The foreign liaison officers and the larcenous contractors were streaming out the door. Harry badged himself through the gate and walked the short distance down C Corridor to the Iran Operations Division. Someone at the gate must have forewarned Marcia, because she was waiting just inside the door, next to the Imam Hussein.

“We need to talk,” she said. “Now.”

“Not yet. Let me read into the traffic and run some traces. Then I have to see the director, tonight or tomorrow. Sometime.”

“No, sir. You do your reading, but then see me. And don’t go near the seventh floor until we’ve talked. You have a problem you don’t even know about. It has three initials. F-B-I.”

“Oh fuck. What do they want?”

“They aren’t sure. They wanted to question me about your travel. I told them to piss off until they had a subpoena.”

“Do they have anything?”

“Who knows? They’re such assholes, anyway. So how can I help? What do you need, other than a glass of Scotch, which you’ll have to get for yourself?”

“I need good intelligence about Iran. Especially now. Make sure I have all the Iran traffic over the past week. Then call all the liaison officers in town who know anything and tell them I need their best current stuff, immediately. Have them pulse their people back home, no matter how late it is. And tell NSA I need special onetime access to the raw Iran SIGINT. Whatever has been translated. If anyone squawks, tell them I personally will make sure they get sent to a listening post in Okinawa.”

“What else? You said traces.”

“I want you to run every database you can for the name ‘Al-Majnoun.’ That means ‘the Crazy One’ in Arabic, so presumably he’s an Arab. But he’s in Iran. Or at least I think he is.”

“I know what Al-Majnoun means, for God’s sake,” Marcia muttered, walking away. “Maybe I even know who he is. Not that you would care. But let me check my sick, alcohol-poisoned memory to make sure. Any other demeaning requests?”

“Call the National Reconnaissance Office. Tell them I want to TiVo Mashad, forty-eight hours ago.”

Harry went into his office and closed the door. He logged on to his computer and began searching the cable log. He wanted to lay down for himself a picture of the cards that were visible in the intelligence reporting they already had. The U.S. intelligence community didn’t know much about Iran, but it knew a little. And