He smiled. “That’s a smart way of bringing up the interview again,” he said and took a date from the package. I looked at the dates. “It’s interesting that you hate the Shia and Iran so much,” I said. “But then you eat their dates.” “What?” Abssi asked and glanced at his deputy. The deputy looked furious. I suddenly had the feeling I’d said something I shouldn’t have. Fakhr looked at me and raised his eyebrows. Abssi picked up the package and read the small type: “Made in Iran.” He called for the man who’d brought the tea. “Don’t ever bring these dates again,” Abssi told him.
