The Grand Prime Minister Ayatollah of Iran was still sleeping when Hassan tiptoed into his room with his morning tea, taking extra care not to knock the sugar cubes off their perfectly balanced lattice arrangement on the lacquered tray. He set it down gently on the thick walnut dresser and, hesitating, shook the Grand Prime Minister Ayatollah gently. “Sir? Sir,” Hassan asked in a voice barely above a whisper. “Mhmhph,” the Grand Prime Minister Ayatollah answered, coming out of ...




