A TIME TO BETRAY (32 page)

But I knew that I would see her as soon as we got to England.

LONDON WAS FOGGY
and hazy, displaying its typical sad mood. But there was no sadness about Somaya and Omid cuddling in the arms of Moheb Khan and Zari Khanoom on the way from Heathrow Airport to their house. I could see how relieved Somaya’s parents were to have their daughter and grandson out of the country. They had called nearly every night during the war to make sure we were safe. As the taxi driver pulled up in front of their apartment, I felt a burden lift from my shoulders. Somaya and Omid would sleep safely and soundly here every night. I glanced up at the sky and smiled, knowing that there were no sounds of terror waiting to erupt behind those dark clouds.

At the dinner table that night, everybody enjoyed the peace and quiet. We shared love and laughter, which reminded me of something that was all too easy to forget in postrevolutionary Iran: that it was our right to lead a free and normal life.
This is an opportunity,
I thought.
I can stay here with my loved ones and move on, like the thousands before me who have left the country to seek peace and tranquility for their families. This is your chance, Reza!
But I was still not certain. I still felt I had a mission to accomplish.

“Reza
jon,
” Somaya’s mom said, interrupting my conflicted train of thought. “We are so happy that you finally decided to leave Iran.”

“Yes,” Moheb Khan added. “We prayed every night that all of you would leave. That country is no longer safe. I am so glad you are
here in one piece. My house is small, but you should know that you are my children and we would love to have you stay with us.”

“But, Dad …” Somaya interrupted.

“Somaya
jon,
we have enough room for all of you,” her mother said, misinterpreting her daughter’s interjection. “The house is not
that
small! And don’t say no, Reza
jon.
At least stay with us for the first year and then find a place. I cannot get enough of you and especially my Omid
jon.
” She squeezed another kiss onto Omid’s cheek.

“But, Mom, Dad … Reza is not staying. He is going back.”

“Chi?”
Zari Khanoom looked at me in disbelief. “Why would you want to go back? It is not safe, Reza.”

“Mom, we are still talking about this. He is going back in a couple of weeks, but he is considering coming back and leaving the Guards for good.” She gave me an affirmative gesture that left me wordless.

Early the next morning, I put on my sneakers and told Somaya I was going for a walk. From the bed, she smiled and told me that we’d be so much happier if I’d stay with them and never go back to Iran. I winked at her and told her that I would be back from my walk soon. After jogging a few blocks, I looked around to make sure I did not see anything suspicious. Then I hopped into a phone kiosk and dialed the number for the station.

“Hello, this is Wally. I need to talk to Carol.”

“Wally?” the man at the other end asked in shock.

“Yes, Wally. I am in London.”

The man said something to someone, and I heard a few clicks before Carol’s surprised voice came on.

“Wally? Is everything okay? Where are you?”

“I am here in London with my family and everything is fine. I just wanted to know if we could meet.”

Carol was surprised that I had not informed her of my travel plans. I assured her that I wasn’t here to escape and that I didn’t think I was in trouble, but that I had brought my family to England to protect them from the war. She asked me to call her back the next day at the same time so she could arrange our meeting. I knew she
had to check with the agency and discuss the situation with them as a precaution.

Somaya just nodded when I told her that I had to take care of some business for Kazem the day I was to meet with Carol at the Dorchester Hotel in Hyde Park. Once again, as I did most of my spy life, I carefully minimized my chances of being followed. I walked a few blocks, caught a cab for a couple of miles, hung around in a shopping mall, hopped on a bus, and then walked to the hotel.

It was nice to see Carol again. After all, she was the only person in the world I could talk to freely about my true feelings. She greeted me with a warm smile when I entered the room, but I could see the confusion in her eyes as she directed me to two big lounge chairs.

“I should have told you in my letter that I was coming to London. Since I was bringing my family here, though, I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize their chances of leaving the country.”

She was shocked when I told her about the bombing and how I helped to recover bodies from the fateful birthday party, explaining why I felt such urgency to get Somaya and Omid to London and out of the terror.

“Somaya has pleaded with me to stay here with them and not go back.”

Carol, who had been reaching in her briefcase to get her notebook and a pen, stopped and looked up. She cleared her throat to say something, but instead she put her hand against her lips and paused for a moment. Then she went on.

“I understand, and I am sure that the agency thinks the same way as I do, Wally. As I said before, your safety and the safety of your loved ones is our priority. If you wish to stop now, we fully support you.”

I don’t know why it was that every time any of my contacts told me that he or she would support me should I decide to leave the agency, I felt how much they needed me. Were they playing a game with me because they knew I would react this way? Or was I simply realizing how much was still unfinished?

“You know, Carol, to be honest with you, I have thought about it many times. Given what happened at Evin and the possibility that I could have been killed at the front, I probably should consider leaving. And now that I am here in one piece with my family, knowing you would support me, it’d be the best time.”

“But?” Carol asked. “There is a
but,
I presume.”

I paused for a long moment before speaking again. “Carol, I love my family very much and I am glad they are safe here. But I cannot stop now. If you were in Iran, you would understand why people are sick and tired of being ruled by these Islamic radicals. Iranians need help. They need someone to speak for them, and I feel that I am that voice. Sometimes I think I am the only one they have.”

Carol moved in her chair and uncrossed her legs as she listened to what I had to say.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” I asked.

“No, Wally, please go ahead.”

I lit up a cigarette, took a long puff, and blew out the smoke. “So many injustices happen every day. Just last week, a teenager was talking on a public phone when the Komiteh forces approached her. At first they objected to her outfit. Then they realized she was talking to her boyfriend on the phone. They shot her right there.

“I was going to work one day during the month of Ramadan when I saw an old man being arrested for eating in public and not respecting the mandatory fasting. He must have been eighty years old, and Islamic thugs the age of his grandsons beat him mercilessly.”

Carol listened quietly, her eyes downcast.

“A neighbor of my mother’s, a Jewish man who converted to Islam out of fear, had his passport confiscated after returning home from a business trip. A few days later, they arrested him and took him to Evin Prison. He was beaten every night and taken in front of an execution squad, being told each time he was going to be shot. While blindfolded, he heard the sound of the gunshots and expected to die, but they didn’t shoot him. That was how they tortured him. Then they would ask him to put others who had been shot in body
bags. They wanted him to confess to spying for Israel. He never did, and he was released five months later after paying millions of rials in bail money.”

“What do people do?” Carol asked, the incredulity and frustration evident in her voice. “How do they put up with all this?”

“People have not lost hope yet. In spite of all the arrests and executions, students, teachers, and workers still demonstrate for their rights. Women still do not adhere completely to the Islamic
hejab
even though they get arrested and whipped for that. But they need help.” I sighed. “The West needs to do something.”

I put out my cigarette in the ashtray. Carol sank farther into her seat. I could see that my stories touched her. She had tears in her eyes. Carol had lived in Iran and she loved the people and the country, so I knew she had more than professional interest in what I was saying.

“Wally, I hope the day will come when freedom returns to the Iranians. But it’s most important to pressure the mullahs into accepting peace with Iraq and stopping this lunacy that is taking so many lives.”

I knew that she didn’t have the power to change anything herself, but what she said was enough to make me believe that America intended to make an effort. Now we had to get back to work. Carol asked me about the Evin incident and the death of Javad. She wanted to make sure that my safety was not at risk and that my position had not been compromised.

“I was convinced that Javad’s death ended the suspicion about me. I even felt that Abbass, the guard at the prison, did not suspect anything. He just met with me because Javad asked him to do so. But there was this guy, Taghi, who also works out of MOIS and was present at Rezaei’s meeting. Taghi implied that Javad had told him about me. That scared me, knowing that Javad might have left his unfinished business in the hands of somebody else.”

Carol’s brows knit. “What do you suspect he knows about you?”

“It’s possible that Javad told him something that might
incriminate me. I don’t know, I might be too sensitive about this issue at this point, seeing monsters around every corner. All I know is that I have to take extra precautions. I have no idea what was going on in Javad’s mind, but I learned from other Guards that Javad was into everybody’s business and that he did things on his own.”

“Perhaps that’s the case,” Carol said evenly. “However, don’t you think that if there were any suspicion about you Kazem would have known, and consequently not have divulged secretive information or taken you to important meetings?”

That was something I hadn’t considered, and it made sense. “You know, Carol, sometimes I don’t know what to think and how to feel. This double life is far more complicated than I ever imagined. But I am living it and praying to God that what I’m doing will help free my country.”

I didn’t want to continue down this path with her. We had too much business to do and this conversation wasn’t helping with that. I made an abrupt switch in topic.

“The Guards have obtained authorization from Khomeini to formally turn their forces into a conventional army. They are now going to expand their ground forces and have a formal navy and air force. Rezaei promised surface-to-surface missiles with longer range and larger impact, fighter jets for the air force, submarines for the navy, and the expansion of weapons production in the country.”

I also clarified that the Guards’ power base and influence were going to expand greatly both inside and outside of Iran. The Guards’ elite forces had infiltrated countries in the Persian Gulf, Asia, Africa, Europe, and even Latin America, setting up safe houses, recruiting volunteers, and training martyrs. I explained that the Guards had now mastered the production of chemical weapons, and were pursuing a nuclear bomb to counteract Saddam and to prepare for future aggression. I told her of Rezaei’s plan to form thousands of small, lethal units to overwhelm the defense of any army, including America’s.

“Carol, it’s very important to understand this mentality of martyrdom and radical conviction. They truly believe that one day Islam will conquer the world. If we allow the Guards to go unchecked, the consequences could be devastating for the region—and the world.”

Carol continued to write furiously. Then she stopped and looked up at me. “Wally, you should know that we consider you one of our best. The information you’ve provided has been very helpful in our understanding the situation in Iran and giving us insight as to the best way of dealing with it. I want you to be very careful, though. Don’t put yourself in harm’s way trying to learn about what the Guards are doing. Keep it limited to being eyes and ears. It’s working great so far.”

She reached for her purse, fished out an envelope, and handed it to me. “This is a bonus for your hard work.”

I looked at her with a smile and said, “I should come to see you more often!”

We both shared a laugh. Since the bank they had originally set for my salary deposits was in London and I wanted to leave some of the money with Somaya, I accepted the cash with no hesitation. I peeked inside the envelope and guesstimated about five thousand dollars. I suppose I was learning that after all, I was an employee of the CIA no matter how I looked at it.

We spoke a while longer and then got up to leave. Carol hugged me warmly before we departed and reminded me again that I could stop doing this work anytime if I felt it was too dangerous for me to continue.

“Just promise me that you will take care of my family should anything happen to me,” I said before leaving.

During the rest of my stay in London, I spent as much time as I could with Somaya and Omid. It was our best two weeks since Wally had come into our lives. Omid, who was now uttering full sentences, had learned how to take my breath away. The night before my flight, Somaya’s parents left us alone at home. They said they had to be somewhere, but I suspected that they wanted to give us some
space. The three of us sat on the floor in the living room, where Omid had his coloring books and crayons spread all over. While he drew, I held Somaya’s hand.

“I will come back and visit,” I promised her.

She shook her head in disappointment. Right up to that moment, I think she believed that I would decide to leave the Guards and stay with her.

Omid held a piece of paper aloft to show us the crooked red heart he’d drawn.
“Baba kheily asheghetam,”
he said. “I love you very much, Daddy.” The innocence and purity of his words ripped at my soul. Then he dropped the paper and wrapped his little arms around my neck, kissing my cheeks.