Brown, Dale - Independent 01 (6 page)

           
“Not very
friendly...”

           
“He
probably feels this meeting of foreigners demeans the surroundings,” McDonough
said, and motioned Alientar to a leather- covered seat. A few moments later the
guard returned with a tray of tea and scones.

           
“M’omercia,”
McDonough said in Gaelic.
“My thanks.” The guardsman gave McDonough a piercing look, obviously feeling
that the foreigner was making fun of him by speaking the ancient Scottish
tongue. He left with a loud thud of the heavy oak door.

           
“No doubt
my presence is a particular irritant,” Alientar said. He eyed McDonough as he
removed his hat, coat, and gloves. “What is it you do, Mr. McDonough?”

           
“I’m an
assistant to the president of the
United States
.
I’m assigned to the National Security Council but I report directly to the
president.”

           
“Are you a
military man?”

           
“Retired—United
States Air Force. I was an air attache to
Tehran
before the revolution.”

           
“A spy, then.”

           
“No, an
air attache.
I was liaison between the
Iranian and
U.S.
air forces.”

           
“You would
deny it in any case,” Alientar said blandly. McDonough took a deep breath,
surprised at how steady his hands were as he poured the tea.

           
“I am
distressed that the president did not send one of his
senior
advisors to this meeting,” Alientar said. “I would have
expected at least a cabinet-level officer, or the vice-president.” He looked
casually around the office, as if trying to decide whether or not to continue.
“This troubles me—troubles me deeply. I question the sincerity of your
government if they can’t at least send someone of ministerial or ambassadorial
rank—”

           
McDonough
thought how a few years back Bud McFarland said almost the same thing to
second-rank Iranians when he had come to
Tehran
to sell arms for hostages. Full-circle. . . . “My apologies if we’ve offended
you,” McDonough said. He had been expecting this. “But the president requested
this meeting in anticipation of a more formal state visit by you to
Washington
at the earliest opportunity. He asked me to talk with you, hear you out, and
transmit your messages to him.”

 
         
Alientar shrugged. "Very well,
but I
am
disappointed.
And to have this meeting in
Scotland
?
In the dead of winter?
A poor choice.”
“Excuse me,
sir,
but this was by far the most secure place for this meeting.
True, it’s not recommended that you stray too close to these Royal Scots
Dragoons. Too many Scottish seamen in the Royal Navy have lost their lives in
the Persian Gulf because of your predecessor’s attacks on British escort
vessels in recent months. But almost any other site would be far more
dangerous.” McDonough paused for a moment,
then
went
on. “Internal disputes in your own Revolutionary Guard make it no longer safe
for you to be in your own palace in
Tehran
.
Half the Muslim nations have shunned you or are afraid to show you any
friendship, and the other half want you dead. Even
France
,
where you’ve stayed for the past month, is close to deporting you because of
the terrorist attacks you provoke by being there. You were let into
Great
Britain
only after personal assurances from
my president that secrecy would be maintained. All in all, I’d say we are lucky
that this meeting is being held in the office of the governor of
Scotland
rather than in some jungle hut in
South America
—”

           
“I resent
the implication that I am some sort of banana republic tyrant come begging
before a third-rank American bureaucrat. I am the president of the Islamic
Republic of Iran. I am the political and religious leader of fifteen million
Muslim soldiers of God who would gladly die for Allah, and myself. Please do
not insult me.”

           
McDonough
shrugged, thought to himself that this Iranian was even touchier than he’d
expected.

           
“I
apologize for my remarks—”

           
“I would
hear the apology from the president himself.”

           
“I’m afraid
that’s impossible.”

           
“Why
impossible?”

           
McDonough
sighed. “Sir, in this election year it would be ill-advised for any American politician
to be seen with you. This meeting alone carries significant risk.. .. But the
president does feel it’s urgent to open a dialogue with you. I happen to be the
best-qualified person in the administration to talk to you about your present
situation.”

           
“You are
also... how do you say it.. .
deniable?
A secretary of state must answer to the people and to Congress. A junior aide
in some back-room office in the White House can easily be hidden from public
view.”

           
McDonough
smiled in spite of himself. “You know your American politics,
Monsieur le President

           
This small
bit of flattery went a long way, helped Alientar to save some face. “Continue,
Mr. McDonough. You are impertinent but I believe we can still talk business.”

           
McDonough
nodded. “Well, in this case business simply involves an exchange of
information. The president wants to know how you view the situation in your
country.”

           
“That is
all?” Alientar let out a short laugh. “I dare say your point of view is more
informed than mine at this point.” He turned away and stared out one of the
tall columnar windows of the Governor’s House. “They thought the Ayatollah
Khomeini was Jesus Christ resurrected,” Alientar said finally. “The damned
outcast socialists, the bored students, the poor starving fundamentalist
Muslims—it was as if they all wanted to re-create the New Testament, with
Ruhollah Khomeini as Jesus and the Shah as Pilate. There were secret police and
atrocities on both sides, but
Iran
was a flower in the desert in the days of the Shah. Khomeini was supposed to
make it better, and I believe that he could have made
Iran
prosperous under Islam. But he began to believe the things they were saying
about him. He waged war on
whoever
the priests and
elders told him were threatening his ascent to glory. He slaughtered thousands
of the Shah’s men, the only Iranians who knew how to run a government. He
strangled the life out of the foreign oil companies. He made war on the
Israelis, the French, the Americans, the British and then the Iraquis. He
ordered the slaughter of ten thousand children in one month by sending them,
unarmed, against Iraqi tanks—and he rejoiced afterward. The power, it simply
drove him mad.”

           
Alientar
paused for a moment,
then
continued. “He spent
millions on educating the young
mullahs
overseas. We were taught diplomacy, defense, finance, every facet of
government; then when we returned, he tossed us aside in favor of the religious
fanatics. Many of us were made military field commanders—many of us died in
Iraqi bombing raids or at the hands of the Khomeini’s Revolutionary Guard.”

           
“But not
you. Your military successes led you back to
Tehran
.”

           
Alientar
looked surprised. “Yes. I led a successful guerrilla attack against some
isolated Iraqi headquarters. My squad of old men and children had been
abandoned by our Revolutionary Guard regulars; we were cornered like rats and
we fought like rats and somehow were victorious. We captured some useless
desert territory and a few Soviet tanks. They made me a hero and suddenly I
found myself with access to the inner circle of power.”

           
“Where you
began to build the groundwork for a more moderate government,” McDonough added.

 
         
Alientar looked at him.
⁴⁴
I
cannot tell if you are baiting me or if that is what you really believe. Never
mind... I was a lackey in the so- called Islamic Revolutionary Council. I
kissed the feet of the psychotic fundamentalist warmongers like everyone else.
But I discovered that I w
^r
as not the only one who wanted a more
moderate, more profitable Islamic government. A group of us arranged for arms
to be secretly shipped from several countries, including the
United
States
, and only a fraction of those weapons
ever found their w av into the hands of the Iranian army or the Revolutionary
Guard. The rest were stored in secret caches in
Iran
and
Pakistan
and
Saudi Arabia
,
waiting.

*
 
*
 
*

           
It was a
bad day. back in 1986, when our operation was revealed during your infamous
Iran-Contra scandal. We went underground when our activities were made public,
survived the internal investigations, and became stronger, The Revolutionary
Guard may be the flower of the Ayatollah's chivalry, but they are just as
corrupt as anyone. They kept their tongues silent for a little gold—no, hear me
out, McDonough/' he said as McDonough seemed about to interrupt. “You asked for
information; you need background to understand it.... When Khomeini finally
became too ill to function, Larijani, Khomeini’s chosen successor, inherited a
sinking ship. Even the
support
of the
Soviet Union
could not save him w hen we decided to take
over—"

           
^“
Yes,
my government is impressed with your ability to consolidate the rival factions
in your country,” McDonough said. "Your progress has been encouraging. We
know; of course, that there are still fundamentalist religious leaders and
Revolutionary Guard commanders who claim you don’t represent them, but their
numbers seem to be dwindling. The president is optimistic.”

           
Alientar
stood and began to pace the tiny office, absently studying the books on the
floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls. He stopped and opened a
concealed panel above a small letter desk, revealing a very well stocked liquor
cabinet with row s of shining crystal snifters and gracefully fluted decanters.

           
“I learned
much in the West. I learned about single-malt Scotch whiskey”—he poured himself
a shot and returned to the high-backed leather seat—“and I learned about the
rivalry between the East and West. I think I learned what motivates the
Russians—fear of powerful neighbors, losing control of territories, having
insecure borders, not having access to warm-water ports. And I believe I
learned what motivates the West—worrying where the next tank of gas will come
from, fear of losing markets, losing investment opportunities, losing control
of the Soviets. There is a saying in the Middle East... there is no difference
between Russian money and American money, but with the Russian money comes
Russian troops, and with American money comes Exxon and Holiday Inn.

           
“
Iran
is tearing itself apart, Mr. McDonough,” Alientar said matter-of-factly, as if
casually describing the weather outside. “I have two choices. I can allow my
country to be dismembered like a wounded hare set on by a pack of wolves, or I
can align with a keeper to save us from self-destruction. I prefer the latter.
I would like our keeper to be the
United States
of America
.”

           
McDonough
nodded, his face showing no expression.

           
Alientar
went on, “If promised money, arms, and assistance from the West, I will pledge
to withdraw from this Soviet-inspired war with
Iraq
,
retreat back to our prewar boundaries and open negotiations with President
Hussein of
Iraq
to normalize relations. If I manage to keep myself alive in the process, I will
authorize an exchange of ambassadors between our countries, allow foreign oil
companies access to petroleum deposits and eventually try to return
Iran
to its prerevolution status while retaining a moderate Muslim society and
government.... It would also be in our interests to arrange that docking rights
be granted to American naval vessels and aircraft, and to reestablish an
American military presence in
Iran
.
I believe the wolf with the sharpest teeth ready to swallow us is the
Soviet
Union
, which would like nothing better than to have direct access
to the
Arabian Sea
and the
Persian Gulf
and control of the
Strait of Hormuz
. It would be of
incredible strategic value to them.” He looked squarely at McDonough.
“Or to the
United
States
.”