Operation DOUBLEPAYBACK

by Jack Freeman

  “What about weapons?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be equipped on arrival from a local representative of the RPI. Guns are very easy to acquire out there.

  There are plenty émigrés out there now and many of our party mingle in with the more liberal bourgeois types so we have lots of under cover support to help us out.”

  Within 24 hours, Ali and Kerman were high over the Atlantic in spacious First Class soft leather seats and approaching the US East Coast. Ali enjoyed complimentary champagne all the way but Kerman stayed on coffee. The immigration officials at New York were positively welcoming to the business visitors from their great NATO ally, Turkey. Ali and Kerman changed planes at La Guardia and after a further five hours reached Los Angeles International airport.

  They took a taxi from the airport and went to a pre-booked room in a Motel 6 in the mid-Wilshire district.

  “The manager of this motel is one of our guys over here. Check out the cistern above the toilet bowl. Our guns and ammo should be in waterproof bags in there,” said Kerman once they were in their room. Sure enough, Ali came back smiling with the equipment bags dripping from the bathroom. They checked the weapons and ammunition and all was in order. The manager organised hamburgers and beer to be delivered to the room. After dinner they rested and slept through until the next morning when they set out to make contacts among the émigrés.

  “There is a café shaped like a hat, the Brown Derby, and it’s a hangout with the émigré crowd. We’ll start there,” said Kerman.

  After a short walk down a smoggy Wilshire Boulevard they found the Brown Derby. Inside they came across a number of tables full of men reading and talking over Farsi language papers. Kerman and Ali joined the nearest group, explaining that they were new in town and hoped to meet up with an old friend they had lost contact with. One man had heard of Babak and thought he was working for the DRM radio station as some kind of researcher.

  In one of that day’s papers was an interesting rumour that was a topic of heated conversations all around the Brown Derby. The newspaper reported that there was word going around that the DRM station was planning to interview the notorious plotter of the anti- Mossadegh coup, Kermit Roosevelt, in a few days time. This was seen as a sign that the DRM were truly open, democratic and tolerant. Few other dissident groups would be prepared to have an open discussion with the man who was credited with deposing Mossadegh and bringing back the Shah. Most of the men in the café cursed Roosevelt and argued forcefully that the interview was a disgrace that shouldn’t happen. A few moderates tried to point out that free speech was the norm here and they were benefiting from that norm themselves. Some timid souls also argued that noisy protests would lead to unwelcome attention from the authorities and may lead to crackdowns on dissident groups which wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  Kerman and Ali went to a free booth to discuss this news.

  “Well,” said Kerman, “this is a piece of luck. Both our targets coming together in Los Angeles, for our convenience. My cautious side says it’s too good to be true. Anything that seems too good to be true usually is not true, therefore…you see where I’m going?”

  “Yes, but, how could it be a plot or a trap of some sort? I can’t see it.”

  “I don’t know either but it doesn’t feel right. The CIA will know that you have jumped bail and are at loose. Maybe they have guessed you might come over to go for Mohsan and have set this up to attract you. I don’t think they know about me. So, maybe you better keep a low profile. We’ll approach this with caution.

  Now we need to find out exactly where and when the Roosevelt interview would be. If it really is happening at the DRM radio station, with a little more luck, Mohsan will be involved in this event and both might be dealt with at once. Again, that would be suspiciously good luck. But sometimes, luck happens, rather than shit happening. Got to keep an open mind.”

  “Ok. I have an open mind but a suspicious mind too. Even if it is some sort of fiendish trap, we have got to work on ways of out-smarting the opposition. They are good, but we are better!”

  “That’s the spirit, Ali! Now, back to the motel for you to lay low. I think we should separate. You might be recognised and get on the CIA radar. I’ll check in to the Ambassadors. We’ll rendezvous here at 3 to pick up more rumours and co-ordinate further.”

  “Hmmm, so you get the Ambassadors and I get Motel 6. Maybe I should move to the Bel-Air. I hear that’s nice.”

  “Well, maybe you should be moved out, but the budget can’t stretch to the Bel-Air. We’ll try the Wilshire Hilton for you.”

  At the same time as Kerman and Ali were digesting the prospect of the Roosevelt interview, Mohsan made anonymous calls to émigré papers leaking the venue and the time for the interview although it was stressed that this wouldn’t be open to the public. Nevertheless, concerned people might want to know the time and place in case they wished to exercise their rights to protest.

  By the next day Kerman and Ali had checked into separate hotels and they learned from the rumour mill in the Brown Derby that the interview would be that night at 11 pm and would take place in the Rogers Studio at 13452 Sunset Strip. It was also now revealed that the interview would go out live with a recording made for posterity.

  “Ok,” said Kerman to Ali, “A live interview. It would be great propaganda to bump them off live on air!”

  “Yeah, we can shout a quick message before beating it out of there. Death to the Shah! Death to the DRM running dogs!” replied Ali loudly.

  “Keep it quiet, Ali. Yes, this could be good although I still don’t like the smell of this. But we don’t have time now to really check it out. We’ll just have to go in and hope we can at least take out some of the opposition. If it works, we’ll get promoted for this and if we don’t make it back, well it will bring glory to the cause and inspire others. We’ve got to look at this as a possible suicide op. Whatever fate brings, the cause will be stronger.”

  “I’m ok with that,” replied Ali. However, he thought, he was not keen to die for the cause, but felt he had to go along with Kerman. One couldn’t be too fanatical in service to the cause. Indeed, lack of fanaticism was a disciplinary offense and could lead to a death sentence anyway, so may as well go along with the line Kerman was pushing.

  They then left the Brown Derby, hired a cheap Packard car from a nearby Avis rental outlet and drove round to the Sunset Strip to reconnoitre the venue and make more detailed plans. The Rogers Studio was right on the Strip in a mini-mall with a small parking area in front. Kerman and Ali parked in front of the Studio and studied the scene. There was a single security man on duty who looked like a long-retired cop who had not faced any fitness tests for many years.

  “Security is real weak” commented Kerman, “That guy should be no problem.”

  “But tonight they may have extra guys. A demo is expected after all, if not a riot. If this really is a trap, there will be plenty more guys, armed to the teeth,” replied Ali.

  “Hmm. Yes, we are betting that it is not a trap. We have to work on that assumption. Now, maybe there’s a way in at the back. Let’s have a look round there. Maybe we can even get inside the studio. We’ll say we’re new here and planning to record some music for the émigré market, and we are thinking of using their studio.”

  Ali agreed and leaving the car they walked over towards the Studio.

  “Yes. Looks like there’s a service passage down the side of the building on the right there, with a loading bay round the back probably, off the alley,” said Kerman.

  They were waved in by the guard and the receptionist accepted the cover story and arranged for a short guided tour of the facilities including the loading area. Afterwards, they went back to the car and talked about finalising a plan.

  “Right,” began Kerman, “There is a back area with a loading bay that we can enter from the alley. We can park up in that alley. Even if the back doors to the loading bay are locked tonight, it wouldn’t be a problem. We can pic
k those locks. I recognised the type of locks they have and my little tool kit will easily open them up. We will come back about 7. Then we get in through the back as soon as things look quiet and hide out in the storeroom off the loading bay. I spotted quite a few possible places there where we can keep out of view. When the broadcast starts, we get into the studio, wipe out the enemy and the traitors on air and then beat it quickly before anyone can react. If it goes wrong, we take out as many of the other side as we can and die happy.”

  Ali agreed that the plan sounded good and they returned to their hotels to collect the weapons and tools for the job ahead. As they drove back through heavy traffic, they listened to news reports which focussed on the mysterious disappearance of Michael Rockefeller, a son of billionaire Nelson Rockefeller, in the jungles of New Guinea. Speculation focussed on the possible role of the local head hunting tribes who were said to practice cannibalism. Seems they had a beef with the “white tribe”, as a white expedition some years before had killed 3 of the locals and cannibalism was part of their revenge warfare.

  “Wow boss,” laughed Ali, “Those New Guinea guys really hold a grudge. We believe in revenge, sure. But I think I would like to draw the line at eating any of the enemies we will be despatching tonight. I hope that’s not part of the orders from above.”

  “Hah, hah, no indeed. We don’t think they’d taste too good anyway. I was brought up not to eat pig and I am not going to start now. Now keep your eyes on the road and watch the lights. We can’t afford to get a ticket here or have anything to do with the cops. Now it’s started some light rain. This must be LA’s winter.”

  Chapter 10. Interview

  Max, Azar and Mohsan gathered round the narrow breakfast bar in Mohsan’s apartment on yet another bright and dry morning in LA.

  “OK,” said Max., “Tonight’s the night. Better get into character as Kermit Roosevelt Junior. From what I remember of seeing him once in DC at the East Street Building and from some fuzzy photos, he looks a bit like Clark Kent, the guy who turns into Superman in the comic – not the TV version – without the muscles, though.”

  “So, you’ll be ok for that,” laughed Azar.

  “Have you heard anything, Mohsan, about our RPI pals?” asked Max.

  “Yeah, word is that two guys, one who sounds like Ali and a new short thin one, have been asking around in the Brown Derby about me in my new incarnation. Also, the story about tonight’s interview is well and truly out there. Word has also got out about the interview being live tonight though that’s supposed to be a surprise and won’t be official till just before the show”

  “Have you got tough questions for Kermit then? I guess I know a fair bit about that whole Mossadegh business and the whys and wherefores. As it happens, I do think that the coup probably was for the best, to keep Iran out of the Sov’s clutches. It’s a great pity the Shah is screwing it all up with his crazy schemes to make Iran a First Division country, or else, in no time flat and with his relaxed views on corruption.”

  “Well, like most Iranians I can’t swallow the way the West interfered and told us who our government should be - and keeps doing that. We could have handled the Bear up north ok,” replied Mohsan with feeling.

  “Yeah sure, like you handled the Russkis before, when the Czar and then Stalin ran half the place and the Brits the other half…,” started Max.

  “That’s exactly why we needed Mossadegh to make Iran strong again, as it had been …”

  “What? You mean back in the days of Cyrus , thousands of years ago? Iran has been a basket case for centuries…”

  “Boys, boys,” cut in Azar, “Should be a good debate! Save it for the show. We’ve got to get ready. We’ll pack Mohsan’s arsenal over there. I’ve checked and we have plenty ammunition. Looks like M1951 Berettas all round. It’s a nice little 9mm number. They will be fine for close quarter work. We don’t know if and when the opposition will strike but best be ready from the time we reach the studio till we get back.”

  It was agreed that Berettas would be the weapons for this operation and Max set about dyeing his blond hair to a shiny black as sported by Clark Kent in the Superman comic books. Within a few hours the transformation was complete and Max looked very similar to the suave Ivy-Leaguer, Kermit Roosevelt, who had orchestrated what was probably the Company’s most successful operation of all time, in bringing down an elected Government that had started out with a lot of popular support. Max felt that from a technical point of view the operation, known as “AJAX” to the Americans and as “BOOT” to the British, had been an outstanding piece of work. Mossadegh would have led Iran to disaster or at least to becoming part of the communist bloc, which was the same thing. However, it could certainly be argued that the Shah had then gone on to make a poor job of exploiting the hand that Roosevelt had given him. He was enriching himself and his cronies while the people’s sufferings and his unpopularity were growing daily. Max was now anti-Shah along with Azar and Mohsan, but he had to face the fact that he had saved the Shah in the Berlin operation. He would argue that this had been the best course in that a violent end to the Shah would likely lead to a civil war that would cost tens or hundreds of thousands of lives. Keeping the Shah alive would allow for a more peaceful transition. Plus, he had to save Mohsan’s ass and that was the over-riding factor behind DOUBLEPAYBACK for Max. Then he snapped out of this reverie and began to focus on getting into a good frame of mind for that night’s action.

  Azar and Mohsan, meanwhile, went to a nearby pistol range to practice with the Berettas. There they swapped memories of the old days in Tehran and gossiped about friends, many of whom were now gone, disappeared into Savak’s secret state within the state. Azar was amused to outscore Mohsan at target shooting but he had done respectably and suggested that, come the real thing Azar would be too nervous to shoot straight. She scoffed that as she had already been in a major fire fight and despatched four weightlifters and an Inner Circle member recently, she knew she would be ok when it came to dealing with enemies, but she wasn’t sure about him.

  At 10 pm, Max, Azar and Mohsan drove into the reserved parking space set aside for them by the Studio management. A small but noisy crowd had already gathered and were holding anti-Shah placards while screaming slogans. The same security guard was on duty as Kerman and Ali had seen earlier.

  “Hi,” said Mohsan “Overtime tonight, huh?”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the guard with a smile, “What with the cost of gas that your Shah guy keeps bumping up, I got to take every hour I can get.”

  “Hah! Well we don’t like the Shah too much either. If we get rid of him, I promise we’ll cut gas prices, just for you!” replied Mohsan, and added, “This gentleman is Mr Kermit Roosevelt, our guest of honour tonight. He’s not too popular with the crowd so keep an eye on them”

  “I’ve heard of Mr Roosevelt. It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Sir,” said the guard with a smile, “I’m ready to defend you, Sir. I’ve got old Betsy with me. That’s my Colt .45 that I’ve had since the Pacific campaign against the Japs. Now, there was an enemy! Not like this rag- tag mob!”

  Some of the crowd had noticed Max in his Roosevelt guise and started pointing and shouting “Death to the CIA” in his direction. Max was pretty sure the apparent ringleader was a darkly tanned, black wig wearing, Jack Johnson, who seemed to be enjoying playing the protestor. “Good,” he thought “looks like our guys are making up the crowd.”

  Max, Azar and Mohsan went in to the studio corridor and the guard locked the thick glass doors to the building and stood behind the doors watching the crowd and speaking to colleagues inside the building through a walkie-talkie.

  By 10.45 pm the trio were inside and locked the door to the studio.

  “Don’t make it too easy for them,” said Mohsan, “They are suspicious bastards. If it’s too easy, they will think “trap”, and flee.”

  Azar took up a position where she could get a clear shot at anyone who came through the door with hostile intent
ions.

  The in-studio radio was playing and they heard the announcer say “And now we go over to our Sunset Strip studio, for a live interview with the very controversial figure of Mr Kermit Roosevelt. The interviewer is a Babak Qasemi who was active in the struggle in the homeland and suffered at the hands of Savak. So we can expect a lively exchange! Over to you, Babak.”

  The technician flicked a switch, a red light came on and Mohsan began to speak into his microphone.

  “Good evening, Los Angeles! As you just heard we have none other than Mr Kermit Roosevelt with us tonight and he has agreed to discuss the whole story of the anti-Mossadegh coup, which was organised and managed by Mr Roosevelt for his CIA masters, with some help from Mr Churchill’s gang too, and led to the present sad situation back home. So, to kick right off, Mr Roosevelt, what do you have to say that can possibly justify what you did in Iran in ‘53?”

  “Well Babak, you know I have great respect and admiration for the Persian people and we did what we did to help save them from Soviet Communist domination. If Mossadegh had stayed in power I can tell you, definitely, that Iran would today be part of the Soviet Empire, like the Ukraine, Poland, Mongolia and many others. I don’t think many people in Iran would like that, would they?”

  “Don’t give us that line Mr Roosevelt! We wouldn’t submit to the Russians and Mossadegh was a great patriot who would never have gone down that road.”

  “Well, we had good intelligence that he was a fellow traveller and he was allied with the Tudeh, your local Communists. He wanted to nationalise everything. Especially the oil industry of course – which by the way would have been disastrous, as it couldn’t be managed without Western help and know-how. As a matter of fact, plenty people in Iran supported the removal of Mossadegh. The merchants, business men, farmers, the military, the mullahs, none of them were too keen on his socialistic Communist style schemes…”