|
|
|
At a roundtable meeting of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) held in the Convention Center in Istanbul, Turkey, Roger Ganley sat next to Georgia Prime Minister Varlam Kobulov. Ganley’s assistant, Jeremy Spak sat on his other side. Ganley put on his language translation headset and sat back comfortably in his chair waiting for his name to be called and hoping he didn’t doze off. He reached across the table for the coffeepot and poured himself a cup hoping it would help keep him awake. Ganley found that these quarterly meetings with the OSCE usually didn’t amount to much anyway. Their intentions were good in that any time that fifty-five nations could get together and have dialogue about maintain security was better than not meeting at all. Unfortunately, just like almost everywhere else in the world, many of these European nations genuinely hated each other. Whether it was for historical, religious, territorial, or just plain jealousy, there was always a reason for discourse. Ganley secretly hoped that maybe there would be a quick scuffle between two of the delegates and they’d disband the meeting early. He looked around the table and smiled at one or two of the other American Ambassadors that he knew personally. As much as he liked nothing more than to daydream during these insufferable meetings, he also looked forward to one of his fellow Ambassadors chiming in to expound on this or that. If they were not perfectly prepared with their statements or claims, Ganley’s litigation skills would kick in and he’d rip them apart.
With Oil imports and exports being the topic of the day, it was not going to be a fun night. Ganley settled back in his chair and gave Spak a look that meant that he had better be paying close attention, because Ganley certainly was not going to.
During the proceedings, Spak got a call and whispered over Ganley’s shoulder, “Sir, its Mr. Evans.”
“I’ll take it,” Ganley said for the sake of taking a break during the long monotonous evening. He walked out of the conference room and into the hallway to speak to Evans, “John, what’s going on?”
“The CIA came in a few hours ago, they headed south of town to check something, they only stayed about an hour or son, now they called in and said that they’re on their way to Azerbaijan.”
“Did they say what they’re looking for?”
“I didn’t get a lot of detail, but it sounds like their tracing some hazardous material.”
“Hmm, next time they call in, patch them through to me, we can’t have them running around here without our knowing their agenda.”
“Well, they did say that they’d keep me informed.”
“Good, make sure they do, and I’m counting on you to make sure that I’m informed too.”
“I understand, sir,” Evans said, “Oh, your father dropped by to see if you were in.”
“I told him I was going to be out of town, did he say what he wanted?”
“No, but I don’t think it was important, he mentioned something about going over to the Cathedral, so he probably just wanted some company.”
“You’re probably right, if you see him again, tell him I’ll be back on Monday.”
 |  |  |
|
|
|