That night I felt agitated. I couldn’t sleep well – from jet lag, of course, but also from digesting this experience. So I took an Ambien around two a. m. to get some rest. Not more than twenty minutes later someone banged on my door.I sat up in my bed. The three floors above me had been taken by the Iranian delegation. Had they come to get me? Was I the next Daniel Perle [sic]? I knew UN officials had been reading my reports on the conference…. which weren’t friendly… why not the Iranians?
I lay there in bed for a moment wishing I hadn’t taken that Ambien. Then I screwed up some courage, threw my feet over the side and stumbled groggily to the peephole.
No one was there.
Disgusting. I hope for Simon's sake that this isn't true. Isn't it a little unseemly that, even whilst ensconced in a Swiss hotel room, he exhibits none of the spine that Pearl possessed on a daily basis on the streets of Karachi?
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