The Natanz Directive
“I entered the Merry Times café, a serious dump on a side street just off Warmoesstraat Boulevard. Pungent smoke clouded the air. A bunch of college-age kids crowded the closest table and shared hits on a bong. Most of the other tables were occupied by couples nursing lattes and puffing on joints. Glass cabinets sat atop the wooden counter along the back of the café. A chalkboard above the counter advertised prices for the café’s daily specials: Silver Haze, seven euros; Thai stick, six euros; Isolator hashish, eight euros. Ah, Amsterdam! No place on earth quite like it.
I wore a tie-dyed hoodie with a tattered denim Jerry Garcia cap and mirrored sunglasses. I looked like an over-the-hill Dead Head and fit right in.
I was here for a reason, and it had nothing to do with getting high. There was a link that everyone digging into Iran’s nuclear capabilities failed to make, and that was the funding that supported both their worldwide terrorist movement and their weapons research. A serious... part of that funding came from their monopoly on opium production, and their influence stretched from Afghanistan and Turkey to Burma and Cambodia.MoreLess
I wore a tie-dyed hoodie with a tattered denim Jerry Garcia cap and mirrored sunglasses. I looked like an over-the-hill Dead Head and fit right in.
I was here for a reason, and it had nothing to do with getting high. There was a link that everyone digging into Iran’s nuclear capabilities failed to make, and that was the funding that supported both their worldwide terrorist movement and their weapons research. A serious... part of that funding came from their monopoly on opium production, and their influence stretched from Afghanistan and Turkey to Burma and Cambodia.MoreLess
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