The Peregrine Spy (24 page)

“I don’t like waiting,” said Frank.

“Me neither.” Rocky glanced at his watch. “Hate to say it. We got another meet with his nibs. Five minutes. Different topic. More shit you stirred up.”

He picked up the phone on the glass-topped table. “Guy in my office. Gus Simpson. Take him up to his nibs’s office.” He hung up gently.

*   *   *

The ambassador sat with another man on the couch in his office. He didn’t rise. “Please, come in. And pardon us. Chuck’s been a bit under the weather.”

The man struggled to his feet. Rocky moved quickly to grab him by the elbow. “No need to stand, Chuck.”

“It’s okay.” He managed to reach out and shake hands, first with Gus, then with Frank.

“Chuck Belinsky.”

Frank and Gus introduced themselves without benefit of their fictitious ranks. Belinsky slumped back onto the couch. Frank detected a familiar pallor in his skin and yellow rings around his blue-gray eyes.

“Chuck’s recovering from a nasty bout of hepatitis. In fact, he should be evacuated, but he insists on staying,” said the ambassador.

“Nothing all that serious, guys,” said Belinsky. “And I thought it would be a good idea to have someone who speaks a little Farsi around.”

“Chuck’s been our consul in Tabriz, right, Rocky?” Rocky turned his head away. “But we, ah, we managed to get him transferred down here,” continued the ambassador. “When things got a bit hairy up there. We didn’t have anyone … like him around. I did take your advice, gentlemen, about not having that tape you acquired translated by … ah … by indigenous staff, but Chuck’s been listening to it. And, well, I must admit Chuck loves Persia and its culture, but I don’t think he’s been co-opted by the Islamic Revolution.”

“Or the Commies,” said Rocky.

“In any event,” said the ambassador, “he believes it is indeed Khomeini. He’s been listening to the Great Ayatollah just about every day on Radio Baku. And lately a lot on BBC.”

“If it isn’t him, it’s a great imitation, and he isn’t easy to imitate,” said Belinsky. Frank’s attention shifted from the ruddy complexion of the ambassador to Belinsky’s jaundiced features. Pouches of flesh hung under his eyes, his chin, even his lower lip. His suit jacket hung loosely off his shoulders. Still, Frank could sense a fuller, rosier Belinsky before hepatitis had struck.

“Between us,” said the ambassador, “we can confirm that much of what that tape says should be done has been done.”

Frank had trouble focusing on the conversation. The British pursuit of Lermontov troubled him, and so did Belinsky’s appearance. He looks worse than the Shah, thought Frank. The more he studied Belinsky, the more Belinsky avoided Frank’s eyes. They all knew Belinsky had hepatitis. Frank wondered what else Belinsky might be trying to hide. He forced himself to concentrate on Belinsky’s words.

“Those fourteen points, for example, on August thirty-first, I heard Ayatollah Shariat-Madari, a moderate in some respects, at a public meeting in Tabriz, it’s his hometown, calling for action on the fourteen measures Khomeini cites on the cassette. The same fourteen points. Word for word.”

“And we had a report from Mashhad, way off to the east near the border with Afghanistan, that on the very same day an Ayatollah Shirazi made an almost identical speech,” said the ambassador.

“In short,” said Belinsky, “your cassette looks authentic. And important. Good job, guys.”

“Thank you,” said Frank.

“Can you get more?” asked Belinsky.

“We can try.”

“See if you can get some that go back in time, to support the authentication. I understand Khomeini started making tapes from his exile in Iraq as far back as 1967, but I’ve never been able to get hold of any. And this massive reproduction business must be quite new.” Belinsky paused and looked from the ambassador to Rocky. “I’m sure,” he added, “it would be interesting to get some tapes that are as up-to-date as possible.”

“We’ll do our best,” said Frank.

“As for this other material, the impossibility of a military coup, the irrelevance of the Soviets and the
Tudeh
party, the importance of these
homafaran,
the
Mojahedin
and the other groups. I’m afraid Rocky and I believe it doesn’t quite hold up. We’re afraid both at State and…”

“And Langley,” said Rocky.

“It would not be taken seriously. It flies in the face of too much…”

“Well-verified reporting,” said Rocky.

“On the other hand, gentlemen, the arrests of Karim Sanjabi and Mahdi Bazargan confirm your earlier reporting from TRIB-1.”

“The leaders of both opposition groups,” said Belinsky.

“And both recently met with Khomeini in Paris,” said the ambassador.

“Sounds like the Shah’s starting to take this holy man seriously,” said Gus.

“Very seriously,” acknowledged the ambassador. “Your information was good, Sullivan. We may have to upgrade the description of Anwar, Anwar One, that is. Whatever his name is. A source of untested and unproven reliability? He’s a bit more than that now, but as for Anwar Two, so far, at least, that’s quite another matter.”

I understand, thought Frank, but I sure as hell don’t like it. Aloud, he said, “I understand.”

“Oh, and Sullivan, there’s another matter. A bit of a problem. Chuck, Commander Simpson. Would you mind if Mr. Novak and Major Sullivan and I excused ourselves for a few minutes?”

The ambassador ushered Frank and Rocky through the heavy door that led to his outer office. The door thudded gently as he closed it behind them.

“You wanna use the bubble?” said Rocky.

“If you don’t mind,” said the ambassador.

*   *   *

Frank, Ambassador O’Connor, and Rocky settled themselves around the small round table in the bug-proof bubble. Rocky adjusted his hearing aid, and the ambassador cleared his throat. His ruddy complexion seemed even more flushed than usual, setting off his white hair and clear blue eyes. Frank wondered if climbing the steep stairs or uneasiness about what he had to say caused the rosy glow.

“I always feel uncomfortable in here,” said the ambassador. “This bubble of yours, Rocky, it makes me feel like I’m in some kind of strange spaceship. Being abducted by aliens.”

Rocky sat immobile, hands clasped on the table, saying nothing, staring at the ambassador. Frank could imagine him with his hearing aid replaced by antennae, truly an alien abducting all who ventured into his bubble.

“It’s … it’s the Shah, Sullivan. As you might have guessed.”

Frank nodded. Rocky toyed with his hearing aid. The ambassador again cleared his throat.

“He’s been informed, apparently by someone who monitors Jayface, about your idea for a military newspaper with Western advisers with appropriate backgrounds.”

“And?” said Rocky.

“Well, the Shah wanted me to know he would approve it if Frank here becomes the adviser.”

“All this in front of the British ambassador?”

“Yes, Rocky. I’m afraid so.”

“What else?”

“Well, he, the Shah, said he wants to see Sullivan. ASAP. Asked me to arrange it.”

“And?” said Rocky.

“I felt I had no choice. Not when the request comes direct from the Shah himself.”

“It kinda puts Sullivan here up the creek with a leaky paddle.”

“I said I would have to clear it with Washington.”

“Washington?” said Rocky.

“I’ll ask State to negotiate it with Langley. They can’t turn down a request like this from His Imperial Majesty.”

“The hell they can’t.” Rocky had clenched his fists, and Frank could sense him choking down an expletive.

“I told him approval might take a few days.”

Great, thought Frank. If I get to stay, I may get another crack at Lermontov.

“How ’bout we tell him Sullivan was suddenly reassigned to Washington? Get him outta here on a MAAG flight tonight.”

“I’m afraid that would not be a very good idea at all. In addition to ruffling the Shah’s feathers, to be quite honest about it, in the short time he’s been here, in my view, Sullivan’s proved a very good asset. Getting access to Khomeini’s tapes … He’s located right in the heart of the military establishment, and in addition, there is this other matter. Your Russian target. I do not want to be embroiled in this matter, but Sullivan seems very much involved.”

“The Russian is my problem. Chief of station, right? As for Sullivan, most of his intel sucks. You said yourself it contradicts just about everything we’ve been reporting. And if he goes, we’ll still be located right in the heart of the military establishment. Sullivan goes. Simpson stays, and he’s already recruited a waiter who’s in and out of the top brass’s offices all day. Plus, in a few days Bunker will be here. What’s the diff if we bounce Sullivan?”

“Do I have any say in this?” asked Frank.

“No,” answered Rocky.

“He should have some say,” the ambassador countered. “There’s even a chance—on a personal basis—the Shah may be more forthcoming with Sullivan about some things than with me. Or with you.”

“Like what? He levels with me, and I thought you were pretty tight with him.”

“He consults with me almost daily.” The ambassador, even seated, kept his spine erect to maximize his height. “He seeks my advice. But something like his health, for example. It’s very difficult for me to broach that with him. When I try, he evades me. Sullivan, on a personal basis, might have better luck.”

“I could try,” said Frank.

“Yeah,” snapped Rocky. “You could try.”

Frank had begun to share the ambassador’s queasy feelings about being wrapped in the bubble with Rocky buzzing like an angry queen bee in a tight little hive.

“I feel compelled,” said the ambassador, “to report the gist of my conversation with the Shah.”

“Feel compelled to your heart’s content. I’ll get my own cable off to Langley.”

To Frank’s surprise, they agreed to wait till Washington and Langley responded to their cables. If the idea for a military newspaper adviser won approval, the ambassador would inform the Shah. Even then, Frank should wait for another invitation direct from the Shah. Frank kept waiting for the ambassador or Rocky to mention the British interest in Lermontov. Neither did. He suspected that Lermontov was a problem the ambassador hoped would go away, and he wondered if Rocky had given up.

*   *   *

As they finished dinner in their kitchen that night, Gus, pouring them each another glass of wine, suggested they should get to know Belinsky.

“He’s an interesting character. Knows—and loves—this country. Something a bit strange about him, though.”

Frank nodded. “I thought so, too.” Something beyond the pallor and the jaundiced eyes.

“Maybe that’s another reason we should get to know him better,” said Gus. “I had quite a talk with him while you were upstairs. He speaks the language. Likes the people. Knows the territory, the culture. Not your average State Department dummy. He’s convinced what we’re in the middle of is a Muslim revolution against Western culture. Not just liquor and casinos and dirty movies, but little things, like women wearing lipstick and not covering their hair. Men wearing suits and shirts with ties. Rock and roll and even Iranian love songs influenced by American pop. A whole laundry list of Western stuff that the Iranians, not just the mule-headed mullahs but a lot of the average Alis and Hosseins, think has undermined Iranian traditions.”

“Did you ask him how come everyone else thinks it’s just a Communist plot?”

“Matter of fact, I did. He said that’s what most of us think because that’s what we’re used to thinking. It sounds like his reporting from here pretty much gets ignored. So did his analysis when he was stateside.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“And maybe explains why he got shuffled off to a backwater like Tabriz.”

“Maybe Rocky could find a spot for me up there.”

“He would if he could, but there’s still a chance your Russian buddy may show up. And no matter what he says, Rocky knows he may need you for that.”

Frank wondered what, if anything, he should tell Gus about the meeting with the British ambassador. He decided to take the conversation in a different direction. “Rocky’s not a bad sort. He’s just doing his job the way he sees fit.”

“And he’s damn good at it. If you wanted to grow up to be a chief of station, you could do worse than to study Rocky in action. But you gotta remember, types like Rocky, who’ve come up from inside as regular case officers, don’t feel quite right about oddballs like you and me who were recruited from outside, started out as GS-14s and got interesting assignments from the jump.”

“I don’t think that’s Rocky’s problem.”

“Maybe not,” said Gus, “but Rocky’s pretty solid old-school anti-Soviet.” He went on talking as he carried their dinner plates and wine glasses to the sink and poured them each a drink from their chilled stash of Scotch and vodka. He left the bottles on the table. “It’s the way they were all brought up. Pete Howard isn’t that much different, but for him history didn’t begin with Mr. Lenin in 1917 and geography doesn’t end with the Berlin Wall. Our bread-and-butter cold warriors talk about Soviet hegemony, and Pete talks about Russian imperialism.” Gus paused for a long swallow of Scotch. “And on the job it’s Pete who puts people like you and me in places like Zambia and Ethiopia. He doesn’t target us just on the resident Soviets, either. He wants to know about everything. One reason we know so damn little about this place is that you can bet until this shit started to hit the fan a couple of months ago about ninety percent or more of the station’s effort went strictly to the Soviets and most of the rest went to the two-bit local Communist party,
Tudeh
or whatever it is.”

“
Tudeh
it is,” said Frank.

“I don’t usually get wound up like this. What got me started?”

“Rocky. We were talking about Rocky.”

“Rocky.” Gus nodded and refilled his glass. Frank left his untouched. “You can’t expect a guy like Rocky to be too happy with your reporting. It undermines everything he’s believed in and fought for all his life. The Soviet menace, with maybe a little bit of Red China menace thrown in, is all that threatens the free world. What the Vietnamese are about, or the Koreans, or the Persians or the Arabs, doesn’t matter. They’re just tools of, in their wonderful terminology, they’re all just tools of the Sovs and the ChiComs. Guys like you or me or this guy Belinsky might say, hey, let’s listen to the Viets or the Persians for a minute. They may have something important to tell us. To the old guard, talk like that’s subversive.”