Framing the Sacred
The Shadow of Death
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Bill Jeffries in his favorite Deer Valley, Utah, hideaway “Please, show some respect. As our Arab brothers say, ‘Let the baker bake your bread, even if he eats half of it’; in other words, hire a professional and pay him whatever he demands. I am not a hired hand, as you phrase it. I am the baker, if you will, a paid professional, a modern assassin, a proud follower of the ancient Nizari Ismaili state sect founded in the eleventh century by Ismail bin Jafar—what your history books say at the Point. Yes, I see your rather ostentatious West Point ring whose sapphire star probably knocked out my expensive crown earlier, most likely referred to as the Persian Hashshashin. Hash is just one of the many gifts we have bequeathed to the west over the centuries. Since we are more powerful than they and have ties far beyond their border, the Irani mullahs tolerate us much as the old European kings and queens and popes, if you must know, tolerated the Masons—you know, those secret subversives you modeled your nation’s capitol after. SAVAK seems to appreciate our tradition and methods and provides a well-stocked treasury for my services.”