As the Admiral enters the president’s office, both Ahmajid and Mahmoud stand to greet him. “Admiral, we were just talking about what you might have to report today. We hope that you have good news for us,” says Mahmoud.
Taking a chair in front of the president’s desk next to the one in which Ahmajid is sitting, Aziz settles down, pulls a binder from his briefcase and sets it on the president’s desk.
“The navy wishes to advise you, sir, that all six of our Kilos are ready to depart on whatever mission you ask of us. The only thing that may delay that mission is the problems we encountered trying to improve the firing and telemetry of the new missiles you supplied us.”
“What problems?” asks Ahmajid, his eyes flashing angrily. “Jibril’s reports said we were making good headway with those missiles.”
“Fadil, it is not a problem on our end. Your engineers did a good job of modifying those missiles and making sure we could fire them. However, Russian tolerances in their submarines and the precision characteristics we require sometimes can be a world apart.” The look on Ahmajid’s face at this news doesn’t daunt the admiral. He has faced far angrier men in his lifetime.
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