Read Online Assassin's Code by Jonathan Maberry - Free Book Online

would have gladly killed ten minutes ago. Without hesitation or remorse. I could have cut his throat and then gone to work with a light heart.
    And now?
    I opened my hand and studied the flash drive. An ordinary device, probably bought at whatever passes for Staples in this part of the world. Now it’s little memory chip was filled with horrors beyond imagining.
    Nukes. Under the Middle East oil fields.
    “So that’s it?” I asked. “You—pardon the expression—drop this bomb on me and walk off?”
    “That is a disingenuous remark, Captain. I risked much coming here. My president and the Rahbare Mo’azzame Enghelab do not know that I am here.”
    “And you don’t entirely trust Ahmadinejad and the Supreme Leader? Wouldn’t they have the same fears as you? I doubt they want to reach paradise atop a mushroom cloud.”
    Actually, I deliberately mispronounced his name as Armanihandjob, but Rasouli did not so much as crack a smile.
    “I am not in their inner circle,” he said with a philosophic shrug. “They know I have ambitions and the president in particular would not cry if I was found dead with my throat torn out. Besides, in government nothing is as hard to protect as a state secret. They have people that they trust, but I do not know if I can trust the same people.”
    “Yeah,” I agreed, “but you have to admit that it’s pretty weird that you’re bringing this to us.”
    He cocked his head at me. “You may neither believe nor care, but I respect Mr. Church. And you, if what I’ve heard about you is true.”
    I said nothing.
    Rasouli smiled. “I am not fishing for a reciprocal compliment.”
    “Good thing. Fishing hole’s pretty dry.”
    He shrugged, then asked, “Tell me, do you know the name Sal ā h-ed-D ī n Ayy ū bi?”
    “Sure. Saladin. General during the Crusades.”
    “He was a sultan,” corrected Rasouli. “A great man, a hero of Islam.”
    “Wasn’t he a Sunni born in Iraq?” I asked with a smile.
    Rasouli shrugged. Iran was no friend of Iraq and 95 percent of Iranians belong to the Shia branch of Islam.
    “My point is,” he persisted, “Saladin viewed the world from an eagle’s perspective. What you would call a ‘big picture’ view. It was never his desire to exterminate his enemies, only to defeat them and drive them from the Holy Land.”
    “Ah. So, we’re supposed to shake hands like two worldly wise warriors, setting political differences aside for the betterment of mankind. Is that about it?”
    “Something like that,” he said without a trace of embarrassment.
    I nodded and shoved the flash drive into my shirt pocket.
    Rasouli looked down at his shoes for a moment, breathing audibly through his nostrils. Without looking at me he said, “There is one last thing. It’s also on the drive.”
    “More bombs?”
    He shook his head. “I am not entirely sure that it is related to this matter, but then again I’m not entirely sure it isn’t.” He tilted his head and cut an upward look at me. “What do you know of the Book of Shadows ?”
    “Isn’t that a CD by Enya?”
    His mouth twitched. “What about the Saladin Codex ?”
    “Nope. What are they?”
    He turned toward me now and his eyes looked different. Older. Sadder. “They are two sides of the same very old coin.”
    “Meaning?”
    “As you do not know what they are, then it is all I’m prepared to say at this point. Mr. Church will see the references on the drive. Perhaps he will know if they are pertinent.”
    Rasouli stood up and offered me his hand. I stood and looked from it to him.
    “I know you despise me, Captain Ledger, and I do not care much for you. For now, however, we must rise above our individual beliefs and politics and do what we can for the common good.”
    “You’re not Saladin,” I said. “And I’m sure as hell not Richard the Lionhearted.”
    The hand did not move.
    So, I shook it. Fuck it. It didn’t cost anything except a little pride and disgust, and I had a bottle of