by Jack Freeman
Max asked “Ok. But let’s be frank. Have you given up on the RPI? And their methods? We know about your involvement and what happened to you here through my old Company contacts.”
“Yes, definitely. I couldn’t go back to them even if I wanted to. They wouldn’t trust me at all. They might put me on a suicidally dangerous mission, as a test, but otherwise I suspect they would do away with me. Fact is, I’m worried they could come after me. Officially I’m still disappeared but somebody somewhere might find me out and pass the word to the RPI. They don’t like defectors. Now I’m attached to Al-Tehrani’s crowd, the DRM , you know the Democratic Reform Movement. It’s their radio station I’m with here now. ”
Within an hour they arrived at Mohsan’s apartment building on Hobart Boulevard between 3rd and Wilshire. It was a block built around a central courtyard with a pool and open space for barbeques and sunbathing. The apartment was small with the bedrooms having only enough space for a double bed but nothing else. The clothes had to go in closets in the hall.
As Azar put some of her clothes away, to her surprise she saw a medium sized arsenal consisting of a shotgun and assorted automatic pistols together with boxes of ammunition at the back of the closet.
“I see you’re well equipped for a small war here, Mohsan” she called out.
“Yeah. We have here in these United States a Right to Bear Arms and all that. Basically they’re for self defence. Maybe, if and when I get some plastic surgery, I can be less paranoid. But for now, I think it’s best to be prepared. As we said in the car, I’m not so worried about Savak anymore, as the CIA will keep them off my case. It’s the RPI who worry me. They definitely have agents out here and my cover may not hold for ever.
Another thing is that this area can be a bit like the Wild West of old. Last week, a couple of blacks with guns went through the apartment block across the boulevard, busting in to every apartment and helping themselves until they hit one with a couple of tooled up Chinese guys in it. After a brief fire-fight, the blacks were dead and the streets of this town were a little safer. Actually the fight did end up on the street corner right over there, as it spilled out of the apartment block. You can imagine the traffic swerving and hooting, and pedestrians hitting the ground as the bullets flew everywhere. I had a great view of the whole thing.”
“Well, if it’s any re-assurance regarding the RPI, we understand from usually reliable sources that their leadership suffered a big set back recently. Top echelons were taken out apparently and so, maybe, just maybe they’ll go away ….or at least not be a problem for a while. The local thugs we can’t advise about…but I guess they better not try this place. You could take on a small army here,” said Max.
“Yes, and the great thing is that the law is on the householder’s side. Anyone busts in here, I am entitled to shoot to kill. No real investigation or court involvement needed.”
Over a dinner of jumbo sized pepperoni and four-season pizzas helped down with Coors beers, the discussion frequently touched on émigré politics. Despite many opportunities to profess radical intentions, Mohsan held fast to a moderate reformist line.
In bed, Azar and Max whispered their agreement that Mohsan seemed genuinely to have changed his political line. It was true that the purpose of the arsenal in the closet was a source of concern although self defence was not an unreasonable explanation in the circumstances.
At 6 a.m., the phone began ringing in the apartment hallway. Mohsan picked it up and then shouted through the bedroom door, “Max, it’s for you.”
Max went through to the hall to take the call. Only one person knew both that they were here in LA and the phone number and that person was Jack.
“Ok Jack, what the hell is it?”
“Good morning to you too, buddy. Sorry to wake you from your druggie snoozing. Its 9 am here in DC and I’ve been in the office for hours already. Anyway, the point is that I’ve got some bad news for you. The dumb Brits let Ali Saeed go. Seems some bent cop sold the story of a mystery prisoner at Paddington Green to the radical press and that agitator guy, Victor Wong, stirred it all up, finally getting Ali sprung by a human rights activist lawyer, on bail, pending charges to do with the farm house arson and murders. Now they’ve lost him. He’s gone to parts unknown. So, this is just to say, you better watch out. When this broke I was re-called to DC instantly to explain things to the high ups and so I could liaise better with you. We are worried he’s going to come after you guys and Mohsan is at risk too.”
“Shit. That Ali is real dangerous. He knows all about our involvement with RPI and has us pegged for sure as double agents. Ok. We’ll take care. By the way, so far our mutual friend here seems ok and we can give him a clean bill of political health. Anti-Shah, but peaceful with it. That’s the new Mohsan.”
“Good. Both of you, take care now. Get back to me, if and when you have a plan to deal with Ali. Basically, it’s flee or fight I guess. They say Argentina is a good place to disappear. You could join Mengele, Bormann, Adolf and all those other guys in the jungle down there.”
Max hung up and decided they would have to level with Mohsan now about their RPI related activities and the new danger. After a short whispered discussion in the bedroom, Azar agreed. It was time to put all their cards on the table. Azar was very worried by the news and went into the lavatory to compose herself. She had decided early on that Ali was a dangerous fanatic and having him pursuing them like an avenging fury was something to fear. Thinking back to how she had dealt with the weightlifters and how she had fought on the island and finished off Nasir restored her courage and she muttered “Bring it on” under her breath as she flushed the toilet.
All three gathered around the breakfast bar with large coffees and French toast for everyone. Max began, “Ok folks. That phone call was bad news. Mohsan, we have some things to make clear to you that maybe we hoped to avoid mentioning, but now we both feel it’s best you know.
Some time ago, just after you got busted in DC, we were approached by the Company to infiltrate the RPI, find out what they were planning to do with $10 million US that they had helped themselves to from a Paris bank and if possible, stop it, whatever it was. We agreed, to help get you out of the hole you were in and they had a lot of other pressures they piled on to get our cooperation. But you were our main concern. Somehow, we did get inside the RPI, although the RPI never trusted us totally, and in the end were going to dispose of us. To test our commitment, they had me carry out a few actions while Azar was essentially held hostage. On the last operation, which involved a bomb plot against the Shah himself, I double crossed them, but this didn’t become apparent till it was too late for them. Meantime, they planned to bump off your sister and me. She was too smart for them and got them before they got her. Finally, we were both in on a Company led raid on the Inner Circle’s cosy little Venetian hideaway. We got them all in the end. But, and here’s the bad news, the assistant to Nasir Mansur , who was a big shot in the London cell, a guy called Ali Saeed, was locked up by the Brits and now he’s escaped custody and is out there. He knows what we did and doesn’t seem the forgiving sort. So, we might need that arsenal of yours soon.”
Mohsan looked shocked and said “I had no idea about all that. I am so sorry you felt you had to take such risks for me. You shouldn’t have, but thanks. I know this Ali Saeed. We were in a schools debating group together. He went to England many years ago. He had an uncle there I think.”
“That’s ok, brother,” said Azar “But what to do about Ali and his associates? I would guess he will quickly re-establish contact with the RPI. He will fill them in on our treachery and they will probably enlighten him about your disappearance and probable defection. There’s also that unfinished business regarding Mr Kermit Roosevelt so there could be lots of reasons to send him and some assistants over this way.”
“I don’t think my cover here is going to last too long. Already, I have bumped into a couple of people who think they recognise me from before. Think I was a
ble to persuade them it was mistaken identity, but maybe won’t always be able to do that. Just a matter of time before word gets back to RPI and their goons come calling,” said Mohsan.
“Here’s a crazy thought. We let it be known, subtly, that we are all here and maybe throw in another big piece of bait. Suppose your radio station had as a star guest interviewee none other than Kermit Roosevelt himself. That would be irresistible for the RPI in the circumstances. They could get to us three and him in one trip?” suggested Max.
“The weed and the JD have finally scrambled your brain, my beatnik brother-in-law. How could we get Roosevelt on our station? He has never ever talked about the anti-Mossadegh coup in public,” said Mohsan.
“Well, we don’t really have to have him. We just need to get it believed out there that he would come speak on a show. It could be a debate, or maybe a mock trial where he gets to defend himself. It would be very like the DRM to have a fair minded debate instead of the usual one-note propaganda the other stations churn out. I gather he has left the Agency now and is slowly coming out in public, so it’s not completely unbelievable. Here’s another wild one. If I dyed my hair black and put on some horn rim spectacles I could pass for Kermit. There have only been a few fuzzy photos published, so not many people know what he really looks like. Why don’t you put it about that you, Mohsan, have a scoop. You’re going to do an interview with Roosevelt about the Mossadegh coup, at a secret place which you let slip frequently, at a secret time and date which again you let slip out.
At the appointed hour and place I show up in the persona of Kermit R. We then wait for the bait to take effect. I would guess they would try to hit us as we exit. But, we’ll be ready. We could probably rustle up some Company assistance for the occasion.”
“It could work. I am sure that I could hire a studio over on the Strip. There are quite a few places over there that we could use. The station will be disappointed if there isn’t an actual interview but I guess you could act it right out and defend the coup, so I have something for the bosses. Afterwards the real Kermit will presumably deny vehemently that it was him, but that’s what you would expect from a spook even an ex-spook…so bosses at the station would probably assume it was a genuine interview which he went on to deny for spook type reasons.. It would pull in the listeners ok and that’s all the bosses care about in the end,” observed Mohsan.
“It’s so crazy it might just work, as someone said,” responded Azar, “Ok. Let’s try it. Max, you get on to Jack and get some extra muscle lined up for us. Suppose we say it is to take place in 10 days time. Remember, we can’t be away from London for too long. We’ve still got a bookshop to run and we can’t leave Alan in charge for ever. ”
Azar was impressed with Max’s plan but she did not say so explicitly, feeling that Max was conceited enough and didn’t need anybody to convince him he was good at his job of getting out of difficult situations in a hurry. She hoped she would cope alright with the next fight that was coming and again remembered the exploding farmhouse, the Isola operation and how she dealt with Nasir, to stiffen her sinews and summon up her blood.
Jack was in touch by phone and agreed the plan was worth trying; he could supply some back up and would come out to the Coast to be part of it, when the time came.
Chapter 9. Ali
One day before Jack’s disturbing phone call to Max, Ali Saeed was staring at a blank cell wall in London’s maximum security Paddington Green police station when the heavy door opened and he was abruptly summoned to a nearby interview room. There he met Victor Wong and a well known human rights lawyer.
“Ali, we’re here to get you out,” said Victor, “We’ve just learned that you’re being held here uncharged. We’ve stirred up the liberal press and left wing MPs so now the pigs are going to bail you, while they try to cook up a case of arson against you. I’ve raised some cash to cover the bail from my party supporters, so we’ll have you out in no time.”
“That’s great. Really thought I was on a one way ticket to a CIA holding cage, God knows where,” replied Ali.
Within a few hours, Ali was out of jail and Victor accompanied him back through the rain to a shabby flat in Fitzrovia not far from where they had met with Max some weeks ago in Soho. Victor rang the bell and a short thin man opened the door and gestured for them to come in and go straight upstairs.
At the CIA London Station, Jack took a call from Paddington Green from a Special Branch officer who regretfully informed him that his bird had flown the coop. He explained that unfortunately the matter had got before a high court judge and the judge had taken it upon himself to interfere in police business and let Ali out on bail. The Branch put a tail on Ali but he had given them the slip. The man was sure Ali would now go on the run and already could be almost anywhere. Jack got the first flight from London to DC to deal with the situation and cover his back, which was now exposed, as Ali had been his case. Dammit, he thought, I should have shipped him straight over Stateside after the fire and not entrusted him to the Brits for a while. Sure won’t do that again.
Settling down round the kitchen table in the Fitrovia flat, Famous Grouse whisky was produced and served up, as usual for this group, in chipped glasses, for Ali, Victor and the short thin man.
“Well done, Victor!” toasted the short thin man and continued, “Ali, let me introduce myself, I am representing the new RPI Inner Circle here in London and you can call me Comrade Kerman. I have been working underground for years for the Party in Iran but had to leave in a hurry a month ago. Traitors in our midst put Savak on my trail. Only one member of my cell is still at liberty. I have ordered that he be found and executed, as logically, he must be the traitor. Why? It’s simple, if he was not the traitor he would have been rounded up with the others. But he has not been rounded up, therefore by the logical rule Modus Tollens, he is not not the traitor, that is, he is the traitor. Being allowed to stay free means he must be the Savak spy. I trained as a chemist which has been useful for developing logical thinking as well as for bomb making. I’ve been in quite a few sticky situations where logic has saved me.
Now, you may not have heard but all the previous Inner Circle died in action. We don’t know if it was the ILF, Savak or CIA. We lost touch with them and when the Italian place we had thought was safe was checked out, we found it a battle scene with plenty blood stains, spent cartridges and pock marked walls, but no sign of the Comrades. We must assume they all perished and we have begun to re-group with a new Inner Circle. We now have orders to resume the planned operation against Kermit Roosevelt and to combine that with an action against ex-Comrade and traitor Mohsan. We have learned that after capture he was not killed as had been reported but that he cooperated with the CIA and is now working for them in Los Angeles among the large émigré community there. They’ve given him a new name, Babak Qasemi, and a new life story but our people there recognised him easily. So, Ali, you and I are to fly off to LA tomorrow to take care of Mohsan and we hope Roosevelt too.”
“Sorry to hear about the Inner Circle comrades. But la lutta continua. I guess we’ll be forfeiting the bail money then. Sorry about that, Victor, but I am sure the RPI can cover the loss,” said Ali.
“That’s ok,” replied Victor. “I’m leaving now. I don’t want to hear any more about your plans. They’ll probably try to pin your jumping bail on me, but I can’t see that one sticking.”
Victor finished his drink and left.
Ali began speaking again, “Kerman, what do you know about Mohsan’s sister and brother-in-law? The brother-in-law, Max Blue was involved with me in an attempt on the Shah which I have heard didn’t work. Blue was probably a plant.”
“Well, the plot against the Shah didn’t work and that’s for sure. He was still on the Peacock Throne when last checked this morning and Savak are still rounding our people up. I don’t know about the plot as that information was presumably kept within your cell.”
“I saw Mohsan’s sister, Azar at our cell’s London safe hou
se which was at a farm near Heathrow. She escaped a fire there. My guess is that actually she started it and killed the weightlifter guards in the process. I’m pretty sure that the Inner Circle planned to get rid of Azar and Max Blue after the Shah operation. Last I saw of the Blues they were going off all friendly with a CIA looking guy, big, crewcut hair, flashy American style clothes and British cops from the farmhouse, while I was being bundled into a van on my way to solitary with a sound beating thrown in. The cops thought I had something to do with two of their chums being shot dead and with the booby trap that killed a couple of fire-fighters. They were right about the first bit, but still, they didn’t know for sure, and it definitely wasn’t due process what they did to me. Bastards. Still, they didn’t kill me and I am stronger for it, as old Nietzsche maybe said.”
“You may be right. But, I think it’s best just to follow orders and not to speculate. Who knows, maybe the Inner Circle have them as top assets feeding back info from inside CIA and MI6 to the movement? I have survived 15 years in this business by not speculating or planning freelance operations. Just follow orders and you can’t get into too much trouble from our own side. Use too much initiative and you might be deemed unreliable. Bourgeois individualism I think they call it. It can be very bad for your health and well being, so if I was you I’d just forget all that and keep quiet. Remember you were involved in the failed action against the Shah. That could be suspicious. Maybe you blew it deliberately? Maybe they’ve turned you and now you are a plant? You’ll have to prove yourself by being ultra loyal and effective. Your chance to be accepted again 100% is to get rid of Mohsan and Roosevelt, so don’t get distracted by trying to go after the Blues. If the new Inner Circle want them eliminated, orders will be given…and probably not to you. It’s best if the assassins are unknown to the target. That’s how it’s done.
Now, to the matter at hand.
We are to fly BOAC tomorrow, London to LA, via New York. I’ve got passports and tickets already in the names of two Turkish businessmen. It’ll be First Class travel all the way. It’s part of our cover that we are wealthy people. This will be a nice change from solitary in Her Majesty’s Prisons ehhh? We’ve got clothes and luggage here for the journey. It’s all taken care of. ”