Alvarez took the letter. A white envelope, no heading, no signature, sealed with wax, the Syrian President's eagle emblem pressed onto the wax. He put the letter away.
"Anything else?"
The envoy shook his head. "No, that's all."
He turned and left. His leather shoes clicked against the bridge surface, the sound gradually fading.
Alvarez stood in the middle of the bridge, watching the black sedan disappear into the dust. He lowered his head and looked at the letter in his hand. The envelope was thin, containing just a single sheet of paper. He didn't tear it open. He picked up the satellite phone and dialed a number.
"Get me Mexico City."
The phone rang once and was answered. It was Bramo's voice on the other end.
"Lieutenant Alvarez."
"Mr. Bramo, Rifat is dead. Killed by Hassan. Hafez Assad issued an order, posthumously sentencing him to death. There's also a letter, for the Leader."
Three seconds of silence on the other end. "Where's the letter?"
