The Peregrine Spy (42 page)

“I have to admit, sir, I’ve never had much faith in the ability of American politicians to stick to any policy. For America, permanent and politics may be a contradiction in terms.”

“I agree,” said the Shah, straightening in his chair. “Monarchy makes much more sense than political democracy.”

“You know how much I admired Haile Selassie,” said Frank. “I guess I must have a weakness for monarchs.”

“But your government seems to consider monarchy a weakness.”

Frank saw his chance.

“I’ve heard, sir,” he said, trying to sound casual, “that somehow the American government has a copy of a proposal developed by your military. A proposal that seems to consider the monarchy somewhat weak, at least at this time.”

The Shah’s expression darkened. “What do you know of this?”

“My contact at the embassy told me about it. He has his own channels, of course. From what he said, I got the impression that Ambassador O’Connor had not been informed.”

“Good. We should prefer to keep it that way. At least for now. Have you read the proposal?”

“No. Just been told some of the highlights.”

“Such as?”

“Well, that the plan calls for you to leave Tehran for what I believe is described as a medical leave at a naval base on the gulf.”

“They call it a ‘vacation,’” said the Shah. His voice put “vacation” quotation marks, punctuated by an uncharacteristic sneer.

“We’d been told you’d been given the proposal and the military waited for your approval.”

“Do you have any idea how your government obtained a copy?”

“Sir, my government doesn’t normally share its top-level secrets with someone like me.”

“Our son-in-law, perhaps. Our ambassador. He’s very well connected in America. And in Tehran. Someone in our military must have gotten a copy to him.”

“Perhaps,” said Frank. “It seems so strange, sir—for your military to give you a plan, to ask your approval, for a coup to depose you.”

“It seemed strange to us also,” said the Shah, smiling now, but wanly. “How would you have responded, in our place, if your military had given you such a proposal?”

“How have you responded?”

“Our response has been not to respond.”

“That seems very wise. Do you think the military, right now, is capable of taking over the country, imposing a new government?”

“Inshallah.
Or perhaps we should say
Insh-ayatollah.”

Not God willing, thought Frank. The Ayatollah willing
.
He had not previously given the Shah credit for such subtle wordplay. Never underestimate an emperor.

“Do you think,” Frank asked, “the future depends on the will of Ayatollah Khomeini?”

“Not at all. The future depends on many factors. But this preacher has a following. We will see. The events of
Tasu’a
and
Ashura
may tell us something. For now, we shall wait. We shall see. Then, we shall act.”

*   *   *

In the warmth of the American safe house, Lermontov quickly removed his winter greatcoat and lamb’s-wool hat. He spread the lapels of his tweed jacket, pointed to his chest, and cupped his huge hands over his ears.

Frank nodded. Okay, he’s wired.

“I’ve been authorized to proceed,” said Lermontov. “And, since you are not a very good host, I brought you a present.” He unzipped his soft leather briefcase and extracted a one-liter bottle. “Export quality Stolichnaya. It’s been in my freezer, so it’s nicely chilled. And this—the finest Soviet Beluga. Room temperature. With some biscuits. For you biscuits. I have trouble chewing them. Can you at least provide some glasses and plates? Then we can celebrate.”

All my life, thought Frank, I’ve been looking for a way to sell out. Now I’ve got it, and it’s only a game. Frank handed Lermontov the note he’d prepared.

Debug the place and talk about it while you’re doing it. It will sound good on your tape
.

As Frank went to the kitchen, Lermontov went about systematically dismantling the listening devices he’d previously detected, chattering about how easy it was to detect and neutralize CIA bugs. When Frank returned, Lermontov pointed to the phone, the radiator vents, the vase. He pushed a notebook toward Frank in which he’d written,
Tape recorder?

They settled at the table, close to the now deaf vase with the fake blue flowers, and toasted each other and enjoyed the caviar and vodka while Frank set his tape recorder in motion.

“You must congratulate me,” said Frank. “Word came in the overnight traffic that Langley has okayed my staying here as an adviser.”

“Excellent,” said Lermontov. “Have you told the Iranians?”

“The Shah, yesterday. The other Iranians, including Kasravi, this morning.”

“Good. That makes the timing of this very appropriate.” Lermontov pulled a thickly stuffed plain white envelope from his pocket. “Count it, please. Then I will ask you to sign a paper for me.”

Twenty-dollar bills. Not new. Frank counted out five stacks of fifty each.

“Five thousand.”

“As promised,” said Lermontov. “Please sign here.” He handed Frank a square of onion-skin paper with Cyrillic script and a stamped seal.

“But I can’t read it.”

“It says five thousand dollars. You have to learn to trust me.”

“I do trust you. I just don’t like signing things I can’t read.”

“A wise principle. But we’ve moved into a different world now.”

“There you go.” Frank scrawled his signature across the spot Lermontov indicated.

“Thank you. Now that we’ve moved into a different world, you will tell your people your effort to recruit me does not look promising. We may meet here once or twice more, then you must tell your people you think the effort should be aborted. We will continue to meet, but at a safe house I will provide. We will rendezvous at locations other than the safe house. I will drive you to our destination. You will be given dark glasses to wear during the ride which will effectively leave you sightless. You will surrender the keys to your car to one of my associates, who will drive your car to another location, where I will drop you off after our meeting. Do you understand these procedures?”

“They sound very well thought out,” said Frank, troubled by the way Lermontov had taken over, even to the extent of blinding him.

“It is all for your protection. Including protection from your own people as well as
Savak
or others. Two cars driven by my associates will circle around us at discreet intervals to make sure you and I are not followed. Understood?”

“Understood. But when?”

“Let’s meet once more here. Sunday at seven-thirty. Backup Monday, Tuesday.”

“Sunday’s
Tasu’a,
” said Frank. “Could be a bad day—and night.”

“It won’t be bad. Khomeini has given instructions the demonstrations must be peaceful. But if it makes you more comfortable, let’s make it Monday evening. The
Ashura
demonstration will be over by midafternoon. Unless there’s total chaos, the crowds will have gone home.”

“Fine,” said Frank. “If I need an urgent meet sooner, I’ll chalk it on my door. That night. Follow up the next night.”

Lermontov did not seem interested, but he nodded.

“What if you need an urgent meet?” asked Frank.

“I won’t.”

“Never say never. How ’bout you put a chalk mark on your front door?”

Lermontov frowned. “You know where I live?”

“It surprised us. Most Soviets live up in the Zargande complex north of town. But you’re on Ghazali Street. We found out.”

Lermontov shrugged his massive shoulders. “Not so surprising. I’m declared to
Savak.
”

“You’re the
rezident?
”

“I didn’t say I’m the
rezident.
I just said that, like the
rezident,
I’m declared as a KGB officer to our Iranian friends. You can look for a chalk mark on my door, if you want, but you won’t find one. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. The material you provided on the splinter group that plans to defect from
Tudeh
proved most valuable. And useful. Do you have more material for me?”

“Trust me,” said Frank. He swung the briefcase Bill Steele had provided up on the table and opened its secret compartment. “Take a look at these.”

Lermontov scanned the several documents. “This looks very good, especially this one on your meeting with the Shah. Since Major Nazih’s arrest, I have lost my palace access agent. You will remedy that.”

“Perhaps not quite,” said Frank, “Nazih had daily access to the palace, and not just to the Shah. I see only the Shah and only when he sends for me.”

“In the absence of Nazih, how does the Shah contact you?”

“Through the ambassador.”

“Your ambassador meets often with the Shah. Can you find out what’s said at his meetings?”

“The ambassador wants to hear all about what goes on in my meetings with the Shah, but he isn’t very talkative about his own.”

Fake it,
Lermontov wrote hastily on his notebook, then shoved it toward Frank.

“But I can find a way to get access to his cables,” said Frank.

“I’m sure you can,” said Lermontov. “Do it, please.”

Should I salute this bastard, thought Frank, and say “Yes, sir”? He settled for “I’ll do it.”

*   *   *

“You did real good,” said Rocky. He and Frank sat alone in the bubble. “The shit we rehearsed. You did real good on the stuff about you need the money. But also about losin’ respect for the agency, about always bein’ a kinda half-assed socialist, havin’ a black wife and a black kid, about hatin’ the way America treats blacks. The Sovs always like it when there’s that ideological twist. Yeah, you want money, but you aren’t doin’ it just for the money. They’ll fuckin’ love it. Speakin’ of money … Where the fuck is it?”

“You’re sure I can’t keep it?”

“Very funny.”

Frank pried the white envelope from the briefcase’s secret compartment. Twenties spilled across the table.

“Count it,” said Rocky.

Frank counted it twice. Each time it added up to $4,980. He peered into the briefcase and found another twenty.

“You’re a pisser, Sullivan. Tryin’ t’ ding me for a twenty.”

“It fell out,” said Frank. “Do I get a receipt?”

“Sure. What else fell off the back of the truck?”

“This stuff.” Frank pulled out three documents in Russian that Lermontov, with a finger raised to his lips, had given him along with a covering summary in English. Rocky flipped through each Russian text, then back to the summary.

“I didn’t get a chance to read the English,” said Frank. “Just stuck it in the briefcase.”

“This is great shit,” said Rocky. “Seems as how, after representations by the Americans, Brezhnev has decided not t’ make any statements about the
Constellation
and U.S. intervention.”

“We didn’t get anything from Washington on it?”

“Nope. Somebody back there decided to play need-to-know with us. So we’ll come back with ‘We don’t need to know from Washington. We got the skinny from Moscow.’ Sometimes I love this fuckin’ job.”

Rocky fell silent as he examined the rest of Lermontov’s material. When he looked up, he studied Frank, then shook his head.

“These two look even better. If it isn’t disinformation. Says the Sovs have pulled back troops from the Azerbaijan frontier as a goodwill gesture to Iran. Then, I guess this one, yeah, says the Sovs are building up their forces on the border with Afghanistan. Shit. Sounds like they’ve written off Iran to the mullahs but want to flank the holy bastards with their guys in Afghanistan.”

“He’s giving us intel that’s a lot better than what we’re giving him,” said Frank.

“If this shit is real, your ass is gold. If it isn’t, Lermontov may be playin’ you. And you can bet, knowin’ how paranoid he is, the Holy Ghost’s got you pegged as maybe a double agent.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Frank. “Something to come home to.”

“Which worries me. I mean, suppose, just suppose this Lermontov guy’s tryin’ t’ set you up.”

“How’s he going to do that?” said Frank. “He’s the one who wants medical treatment in America. I’m not running off to Russia.”

“Think about it,” said Rocky. “Suppose Lermontov has other plans besides medical treatment. Suppose what he really wants to do is fuck you up. He’s maybe still pissed at you gettin’ him kicked outta Ethiopia. So maybe he can’t get the KGB to go for stickin’ an umbrella with a poison tip up your ass, like they did with that poor Bulgarian bastard, or whatever kind of bastard he was. But suppose now he thinks he’s got the perfect weapon.”

“You lost me,” said Frank.

“Henry James,” said Rocky. “The Holy fuckin’ Ghost. You can bet the farm the KGB knows how the crazy son of a bitch works. Suppose what your good friend Lermontov really wants is t’ set you up for a fall. Make it look to James like your KGB buddy’s recruited you.”

“He couldn’t be that devious,” said Frank.

“He couldn’t?”

“I dunno.” Frank studied the palms of his hands. “Maybe he could.”

“Don’t fall in love with your agent,” said Rocky. “Tricky as this thug looks, he might play it both ways. Get to the States for medical treatment and hang you out to dry with the Holy Ghost.”

“I hear you.”

“Please hear me. And look, when you get back to Langley, if Lermontov convinces his gang he recruited you and he does show up in Washington, talk to James. Tell him you and I talked about this shit. That I didn’t want to put all the details in a cable, not even an eyes-only cable to him. James didn’t have much t’ say on the stuff Lermontov gave you on the mole. But that figures. Who knows where this fuckin’ mole might be? He might be somebody works for James. Let James hear it from you before anything maybe does happen. And let him hear it face-t’-face, across his desk. Not in a cable somebody else might get a chance t’ read. An ounce of prevention, know what I mean?”

“I’m afraid I do,” said Frank.

“By the way,” said Rocky, “don’t trust James, either.”

“Why not?” said Frank. “He wants Lermontov, he has to play straight with me.”