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Winnie arrived in Brussels that morning from Antwerp in plenty of time for an early lunch and despite the seemingly ever present light mist, he tightened the belt on his London Fog raincoat, pulled up his collar and walked over to the Rue de la Bourse to dine at one his favorite Brasseries. He cut through the majestic Grande Place he made his way to a little side street that lead to his culinary destination, Maison Cirio, an old Brussels styled, traditional café where time stood still somewhere around the 1900’s. Legend had it that a Count Cirio met his untimely death at the hands of an Italian anarchist as he stepped out of the restaurant. The owner, chagrined, renamed his establishment in Cirio’s honor. With a quick read of the menu, Winnie found what he was looking for without any trouble, it was the Carbonade Flamande, a hearty beef dish braised in Belgian ale with plenty of onions. He enjoyed himself thoroughly, moping up the gravy with thick pieces of crusty bread. As he was eating, Winnie went over in his mind the tactical issues that lay ahead. Critical to the project’s success was their man Dubloisier’s ability to gain the trust of Jack Rabbit, code name for an Iranian university professor of physics who was in Brussels for a convention. The research on JackRabbit was good but not extensive; they knew he had graduated from the same Swiss prep school as DuBloisier though 4 years his junior, that he was extremly well read and retained, according to an analyst at their Annex, an appreciation of, and a fondness for all things Western. JackRabbit was married to a professor also at the University of Tehran, School of Electrical and Computer Engineering who also had traveled to the West several times for conferences. Two children, one boy age 16 in the Upper School for Science and one daughter who just turned 14. There was more in the file, his and her likes and dislikes, religious views, associations -both personal and professional, photographs, and more. Winnie paid for his meal stepped outside and hailed a cab on the Rue de la Bourse, “Le Parc de Brussel, Rue Royale s’il vous plaît“, the cabbie put his little Renault in gear “oui monsieur” and smoothly pulled into traffic. Winnie would get to the Cinquantenaire but circuitously; experience and field craft taught him long ago to rely on training, craft and gut instincts or risk being deadly sorry.
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