Operation DOUBLEPAYBACK

by Jack Freeman

  “Yeah, that big atomic test is pretty worrying. Imagine what that size bomb could do to London or New York. You know, they could have knocked the world off its orbit just testing one of those things. There’s a movie where that happened isn’t there? The Day the Earth Caught Fire or something like that? But it really could happen with these huge super bombs. The nuclear guys don’t seem to give a shit for the environment. The planet belongs to every one, you know, and it’s like a delicate organism floating in space…”

  “Ok.Ok., enough of the dippy beatnik shit, already,” broke in Jack with a grin.

  “Uh, ok. So what can we do for you this time? Hope it’s not another crappy job like the last one.”

  “Well…first I’ve come to give you a bonus from a grateful country,” said Jack with a smile, handing over a large brown envelope, “There’s 10,000 US dollars there, as a thank you for your trouble. Don’t blow it all at once.”

  “Thanks. This’ll keep us going for a while.”

  “Good, good. Is Azar ok now? Not too much quizzing from her émigré pals, I trust?”

  “No. We just said we had to go to Italy for a few days to look for some rare books and she hurt her arm in a mugging incident involving a Vespa scooter. Everyone swallowed that. Happens all the time in Italy. Also, the trip and the accident explains why we’ve been off the radical scene for a while.”

  “Ok…now, we have put in a word with Savak to lay off you guys. As you know, they have plenty agents among the émigrés. We haven’t gone into any details about how you helped save the Shah’s ass or that you had anything to do with that business at all, as the fewer people know any of it, the better. Savak is riddled with RPI informants, playing every which way in hope they’ll be ok come the revolution and we don’t want to make it easy for the RPI to come after you, do we?

  As far as we can figure it, Savak obviously know there was an attempt on the Shah as your firecracker gadget did make a racket and rattle the hotel roof while doing no real damage. They don’t quite know what to make of the big blast at Alt Solutions. We have indicated it was Company business and that’s all they need to know. There is a slight worry there. That bomb you planted was so massive, remains have not been identified. The Berlin cops think that they have three bodies worth but can’t identify them. So, watch out for our Irish friends. They may be back.

  The other people you have to worry about are the RPI guys. They are reconstituting at leadership level pretty quickly. Knowledge of the attempt on the Shah and your involvement was completely restricted to the previous Inner Circle and the London cell members you dealt with. They are all safely dead now except little Ali who has been completely incommunicado in Paddington Green maximum security lock-up since we grabbed him after the bonfire out by Heathrow. The new RPI leadership are apparently unsure what happened at San Sergio. They are inclined to blame the ILF and think the San Sergio attack was retaliation for the assassination of Makki in Amsterdam…or maybe it was Savak? Or the Company? Anyway from our sources they haven’t yet fingered you or Azar. In fact, as far as we can find out, there are no records in the RPI files that you were ever in touch with them at all.”

  “That’s good! Don’t think they go in for filing systems much.”

  “Yeah. Most RPI stuff is never written down as a security measure. Anything they do write down they try to destroy as soon as it’s no longer needed. So the RPI memory seems to be blank regarding you two.”

  “Good, but a horrible thought is forming. Does this mean you think we could infiltrate the RPI again? Hope not!”

  “Well…it is an option, but maybe not so soon. No. Instead we’ve got a pretty tricky little job for you both. Mainly involves Azar really.”

  “Don’t like the sound of this. Azar isn’t here just now. She’s seeing her physio to get that arm 100% back in action. Maybe it’s best anyway if you tell me and I’ll maybe be able to sell it to her, whatever it is.”

  “Ok. Any chance of a drink while we talk?”

  “So, it’s that bad? Ok, come on we’ll go up to the flat and get comfortable over a JD or two.”

  Upstairs Jack and Max settled down on bean bags and fixed substantial glasses of Jack Daniels.

  “Ice too! What an unusual luxury in this benighted land of warm beer and cold coffee. You notice they always serve that Nescafe stuff only half dissolved because they can’t get the water hot enough,” laughed Jack. “But seriously, here’s the thing. You’ll be pleased, I think, to hear that the Company have decided to take on Azar’s brother, Mohsan, as a paid informant and advisor on Iranian émigré matters. Despite him and his buddies trying to rub out one of our all-time greatest operatives, ex-agent Kermit R., it’s been decided not to hold that against Mohsan and we are about to set him up with a new identity and a pretty cushy job out in LA at an émigré radio station as a researcher. In return, he is to report back regularly on what he hears is going down among the émigrés. Any plots we should know about, general background, do they favour the secular revolutionaries or the mullahs? That sort of thing.

  A problem for us is that we are not completely, 100%, sure if he is truly on side or whether he is still at heart a revolutionary terrorist type, just playing us along, and who knows, might have a notion to blow up something precious to us or still to take out Kermit R or go for one of our great leaders, the President, say? Although Mohsan is not religious, there is a principle of taqija he probably absorbed along the way, that lying and dissimulation is fine, if it’s for the cause, which in his case is revolution rather than Islam. I guess we do the same sort of thing though it doesn’t get a fancy religious label.

  So, this is the suggestion. That Azar and you, if you can, go out to visit LA soon at Company expense. Meet up with young Mohsan, spend a lot of time with him and try to find out if he is truly with us or not.”

  “Wow. That’s a pretty tough one. Glad he’s getting out of your jail, of course. Azar will be thrilled and will jump at meeting him. There is a big problem possible. What if we do find hard evidence that he’s not changed his spots and is plotting something nasty? It would be hard for Azar to handle that. I wouldn’t like it either. I’ve met him, back in Tehran. He was a nice kid but got radical very quickly. Anyone who does a spell in Moshtarak tends to come out pretty extreme, if they get out at all. He had a hard time there. Savak have these metal tables that they heat up and up while you’re strapped to them. He had a dose of that and cracked like everyone does. He gave Savak lots of names just to get off the hot table. It’s difficult to be moderate after that sort of torment and humiliation. But maybe he’s learned his lesson from the failed attempt on Kermit Roosevelt and, who knows, could have been swayed by your relatively civilised treatment.”

  “Yeah. Well we mostly did nice cop stuff with him, but with hints that he could be handed back to Savak if he didn’t play ball. That seemed to work. He gave us a fair bit of useful intel on the RPI network in the US and is now talking the talk on moderate political opposition to the Shah and says he can even contemplate the Shah staying on as constitutional monarch, as long as there are proper free elections and so forth. But, if you find he is up to something…well you let us know and we’ll scoop him back into protective custody before he gets into real trouble. You have my word we wouldn’t pass him on to Savak and we’d treat him well. We’ve got our own nice facilities for any high value types we need to keep a hold of. We kept a Russian defector we weren’t sure about in one for 5 years once. He didn’t really want to leave in the end, when we ok’d him. These places, they’re kind of like country clubs, except you can’t leave till we say so, but you’ve got library, swimming pools, gourmet food, bar, individual rooms, you name it. Hell, I’d like to stay there once in a while.”

  “Well. Ok. I will have to sell this to Azar. Could put it, that if anything, we would be protecting little brother from himself, if he does go getting ideas. Probably all is well, and she, we, get a free trip to see the young guy, so that’s all good.”

  �
�Right, JD’s gone, I see, and I better go now, there’s more spook work to do before this night’s out”

  “So, no spliff for you, my man. Booze and business, that’s ok, I see, weed and business,no, not for government guys anyway, I guess,” said Max, rolling a joint.

  Max showed Jack out. Still all quiet out in a wet Judd Street so Jack’s visit was not known to anyone who shouldn’t know about it. Jack walked back to the Embassy, since it had stopped raining for a while and the fresh air would help sober him up, which was important as he was on call that night. Again, it looked as though Max and Azar would be able to help with Company business. Who knows, they might earn him another bonus like the last one.

  After a further half hour, which Max spent mulling over the proposal and how to put it to Azar, with aid of a joint and the new Dave Brubeck LP, Time Further Out, Azar arrived back.

  “Hello there” said Azar, coming into the room “What’s been going on here, then? Booze and spliff? Something to celebrate? Or to forget? Fix me a spliff too. I need to catch up with you.”

  “I had something to ponder” replied Max, rolling a new joint for Azar, “Actually old Jack J. was here. Some good news. He handed over ten grand in US dollars as recompense for our recent troubles. And even better, he brought news that Mohsan has been released by the Company and basically is to work for them as an asset at an émigré radio station in LA under a new identity and that’s all starting very soon.”

  “That’s great! I was so worried that Mohsan would be charged over the Roosevelt attempt and banged up forever or worse be turned over to Savak. I guess your old firm keeps its word, sometimes anyway.”

  “What’s more, they’ll pay our way over to see him for a while.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Well, they think he might need some help settling in and having family around could help.”

  “Hah. The Company aren’t a charity, as you well know. I think it’s more likely they want us to check he really has changed. He had got very radical. After Moshtarak prison, and the hot table treatment, he really hated the Shah and all his backers including the US government circles who put the Shah back after Mossadegh fell. It’s obvious that’s why he went after Roosevelt. Everyone knows Kermit Roosevelt orchestrated the whole deposing of Mossadegh with his bribed riots involving our ex-friends the weightlifters and corrupted army people.”

  “Well, according to Jack, Mohsan had at least said he would stick to peaceful means from now on and had agreed to relay info back to the Company, if he heard of any plots that they or the FBI should know about. But to be frank, if we think he hasn’t really changed and is just waiting to strike at the Great Satan when the time is right, we’ll have to have the Company take him into protective custody. Jack promised they would treat him well and not hand him over to Savak, if he did risk going astray again. Admittedly, if he actually did something, like assassinate the President or blow up a hospital, he couldn’t really be saved.”

  “Yeah, ok. We can maybe save him from himself. We’ll go over and hope its all fine with him. It will be great to see him again. I’m really excited and I am sure we can help him make a new start.”

  “Are you excited enough to join me on this beanbag?”

  “Yeah, you bet…and I think my arm is back to 100 % action. Let’s see what it can do now…,” said Azar breathily.

  Azar noted in her diary that it was a good news day in that her shoulder was fully recovered, they would soon be visiting Mohsan and she would get to see something of America which she had long wanted to do. There were worries about Mohsan’s true attitude and about his safety, but she felt hopeful everything would be fine.

  Two weeks later they left a cold and wet late Autumn in London for a dry and sunny late Fall in LA. Max thought this was a good trade. He had always liked LA, and scoffed at insulting remarks about its similarity to a paper cup in terms of character. It just took a while to get to know which were the great neighbourhoods and which were the ones to avoid. It had all year round good weather, sea for surfing, mountains for climbing, even for skiing in winter, and an ever changing array of restaurants, bars and interesting looking buildings that tended to come and go, before one got bored with them. Also, he mused, he had an old flame out there, known as Lola, whom he had met after a misfiring Cuban mission and with whom he had had a passionate but brief affair. That could be embarrassing, he thought, given I have a wife now, which I didn’t have then and the wife is with me. We’ll keep out of Lola’s place of business, Hollywood, and that should be ok.

  Chapter 8. LA Arrival

  Max and Azar flew Pan American Airways from London to Los Angeles, with a stopover in New York City for a weekend. Max knew the city well from previous assignments. The weather was fine and dry with crisp clear late Fall air. They did all the tourist sights including the Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty, the Museums, and Macy’s and ate in Chinatown and Little Italy. Max was amused to see many living Mafia stereotypes in Little Italy and re-assured Azar that it was one of the safest places in the USA.

  “The mob don’t let punks make trouble in their own back yard. Anyone foolish enough to disturb the peace here is likely to disappear into landfill or the bottom of the Hudson,” said Max, over an outdoor glass of Prosecco. Azar was not sure she was impressed by the huge outdoor gas heaters that made it possible to sit out in November.

  “That’s our energy they’re wasting, from Iranian oil, I’ll bet,” she commented.

  “Lighten up, babe. There’s plenty where that came from. We don’t ship gas from Iran over here so don’t worry. I’ve heard there are enough energy reserves out there for thousands of years. Soon, it’ll be all nuclear anyway, and that lasts for ever,” replied Max.

  “Sure hope you are right about that. As long as the nuclear doesn’t go Ba-boom, like at Hiroshima.”

  “No, no, it’s quite different, honestly. Now let’s go down to the Village and take in some folk music. It’s a great scene down there. Wish we had something similar in London. Maybe I’ll start a coffee bar back in London with free music, or pass the hat payment, as you feel like it.”

  “Yeah, if the powers that be allow it. They’re funny about that sort of thing in Britain. Something to do with the Puritans, Cromwell and that lot. I’ve been reading up about it. Trying to make sense of the country we’ve ended up in.”

  “Good idea. But we might not stay, anyway. I think it would be ok to stay in US now that we’ve rendered special service in dealing with the RPI.”

  “Ok, maybe. Not sure they would want a known revolutionary, a real one, like me, not a pretend one like you and your beatnik friends!”

  “Time for more sight-seeing before this discussion gets nasty?”

  Azar was impressed with the New York architecture and commented that it was just like the America she had seen in the Superman comics when she was a child. On the Monday morning, they flew for thousands of miles through clear skies across what Max told Azar were known as the fly-over states. Max claimed that nobody interesting lived there. If somebody was interesting they left as soon as possible for one coast or the other. When they arrived at Los Angeles International airport after 5 hours flying time, the newspapers in the dispensing machines were full of a big announced escalation of US troop numbers in Viet Nam but since the weather was dry, crisp and warm, Max and Azar remained in resolutely good moods.

  “What da ya know? No smog!” exclaimed Max as they stepped out of the Arrivals door into the sunlight, “We can even see the Mountains, the Santa Monicas and San Gabriels. It’s not everyday that can be said.”

  “I forgot you were a California man” replied Azar, squinting in the bright morning light.

  “Yeah, but I was more north California, up by San Francisco. But I’ve been to old LA quite a few times. We’re definitely going to need wheels here. This town is huge and we’ll have to hit the freeways to get around. Once we’ve hooked up with Mohsan, we’ll sort something out about car rental. Rent-a-
wreck or similar should do”

  “Hey, that skinny guy over there by the big white Cadillac..that’s Mohsan!”

  Azar ran across the pull-in lanes in front of the terminal and hugged Mohsan tightly to her. A cop shook his head at this blatant jaywalking, thought about getting his book out, but let it go. Max came over with the bags and joined in the hugs.

  “Great to see you again, young man,” said Max warmly, “Nice auto you got there. You must be doing ok out here in the Golden West.”

  “Yessir, it’s the promised land here, just like they said it would be” replied Mohsan. Max noted that Mohsan had already acquired a near pitch perfect Southern California accent.

  “Hey, you been here a month, is it? And you sound like a native already!” said Max.

  “It is real easy to pick up, for sure. Anyway, let’s get going before that cop comes over. He’s looking this way again. Not supposed to stop for more than 3 minutes. You can stay with me for a bit. I’ve got a 2-bed place over by Wilshire and Western. It’s small but it’s ok. There’s a pool in the complex and plenty folks from the old country live in the area. ”

  As the car joined the crowded freeway leading to downtown LA, Azar said “I gather your name is now Babak Qasemi?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. They’ve given me a whole life story and all the papers needed to get by. The story is, I left Iran after being held by Savak following a demonstration at Tehran University. I was apolitical till then, but now take a moderate line in favour of peaceful change. But you can’t do that from within Iran as you’re either for or against the Shah and he doesn’t allow any opposition, even peaceful opposition.”