He was still holding the letter. He slid the letter opener along the crease. The churning feeling in his gut had returned. As he read, he could sense what each next word would be, as if the author’s intention could travel faster than light.
To Daniel Abdullah Sajadi, my esteemed new friend and compatriot:
I trust that God is keeping you well, and that you have recovered from your recent injury. While I am saddened by that unfortunate day, I am grateful that God has chosen to place a man such as yourself in my path, and I believe you will agree that God's reasons are evident. I would not dare suggest that I, a simple son of the land, am in any way your equal. But I was humbled to find that I share with you a great love of country and an abiding sense of duty. And I was overjoyed to learn you worked for the American government, for I believe I understand your agency’s mission better than most.
I hope you forgive me for taking the liberty of writing, but I must ask for your indulgence in a request. I should like to present you with a proposal, from one patriot to another.
I shall call upon you soon and hope this missive prepares you for my visit, so that my appearance will seem neither impudent nor sudden.
My humility prevents me from writing my name in a letter that contains yours.
Your faithful servant
Balling up the paper, Daniel controlled the tremor in his hands. He was grateful when someone knocked. Iggy Romano and Seth Epstein stood in the doorway, a huddle of farmers behind them.
“Just back from a workshop at the university,” Seth said. He had a jacket on despite the heat, his hair carefully styled to cover his encroaching baldness. It was difficult to imagine him digging ditches in Kenya and Bangladesh, where he’d overseen the construction of complex irrigation systems, dams, and canals. Daniel could smell urine and hay and the warm, earthy scent of an animal, and noticed a mass of fur moving in the hallway.
“One of the trainees brings his mule everywhere,” Iggy said. “His last one was stolen, so he won’t leave it outside.” His young face was shiny, and his belly swelled against his shirt.
“We’re going to take these guys to lunch and get Miss Soraya’s birthday present while we’re at it. We still don’t have your share.” Seth held out his hand, and Daniel retrieved his wallet.
“Did you read my memo?” Seth continued, again making his case for more workshops and equipment.
What Seth and Iggy talked about would have bored most people. But Daniel admired them, because engineers understood that great civilizations were built on boring things like trenches and pipes. He gave them enough cash for a nice gift, apologizing for forgetting Miss Soraya’s birthday.
“Kauffman never forgot things like that,” Seth said, counting the bills. “I guess he was used to having staff, seeing as he’d been around a long time.”
“I’ve got a lot on my desk right now,” Daniel said, gesturing to the door. He was in no mood to be reminded that some people resented his arrival and blamed him for Kauffman’s ousting. No one needed to tell him that an analyst did not become a regional director overnight at age thirty-one without connections.
The engineers left. Trying to concentrate on Seth’s memo, which he found in the middle of a pile, Daniel couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back to the letter. When the phone rang, he almost expected to hear Taj’s voice, but Miss Soraya connected Laila, who had called to say Rebecca had been in bed at home all day. She just needed to rest, Laila explained.
“Is she okay? Did you figure out what was wrong? She was really in pain yesterday, even though she kept saying it wasn’t bad. You know how she is.”
“She’s fine. She was almost five months in, Daniel. It’s going to take some time.”
Daniel could hear the bustle of the clinic in the background. A baby’s cries escalated to screams. Before disconnecting, Laila added that she was looking forward to the party Saturday night.
He threw the khan’s letter into the trash bin and was suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue, as if the sun had pierced his skin and shot a sleep serum into his veins. He pulled off his jacket. Something fell from the pocket. It was the mirror from the girl’s dress, winking in the light. He held it in his palm and stared. Long ago, he’d asked his father why people sewed mirrors on their clothes. Sayed said, Because sometimes they wonder if they are invisible, and this reminds them that they are not. The telephone rang for the twentieth time.
“It’s Leland.” There were no pleasantries when Daniel’s supervisor called him from Washington, DC. “I tried you at that goddamn hotel in Herat, but they said you weren’t there. Now I find you here.” Daniel could hear Leland Smythe puffing on a cigarillo. “Good news. It’s going to be filmed.”
“What’s going to be filmed, sir?”
“It’s Leland. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“What’s going to be filmed, Leland?”
“What do you think? The whole Reform. From the time you pull those poppies out by the head to the moment the wheat grows in nice and tall. They’ll try to put it on the air next year with Cronkite. We need to see a lot of happy locals. Is that clear?”
Daniel squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re going to let them film the Reform?”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m not sure the Ministry of Planning will be on board with that.”
“They already are. It’s going to be broadcast there, too, for whoever’s got a TV, although I guess that’s about the same number of people as a curling team in Cuba.”
“Sir, if we needed to postpone the Reform, how would we go about that?”
After a prolonged silence, it seemed like a different man was on the phone. A measured, somber voice sliced through the receiver. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”
“It’s just that—”
“Tell me I wasn’t wrong when I convinced everybody you knew what you were doing. A lot of them were pushing for smaller fields. Telling me you weren’t ready. That you were too green, and that having a last name the locals could pronounce wasn’t a qualification.”
“I remember.”
“Changing course is not an option.”
Daniel apologized. “I was just thinking out loud.”
“Well, don’t. If you’re thinking stupid, think silent. That’s a basic rule of politics. Hell, it’s a basic rule of life.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Whatever’s going on over there, take care of it and see your project through. That’s how it works. If you can’t, pack your suitcase and stop wasting the government’s time and dime. You’ve got Greenwood to help you.”