by Jack Winnick
“It’s all set now,” he offered lightly. “Here, have a go at it.” He cleared the screen and allowed Sa’id to try it.
Sa’id sat at another machine and attempted to log in. The rest of the men murmured in amazement as the web page appeared. “I don’t understand what you . . .”
“Oh, I put a lock in the code after I cleared the chaff out of the program yesterday to make sure no one got into it again. But now I secured the software; your office staff can log in with their same passwords, but no one else will be able to. I made sure of that.”
The five men standing there looked reverentially at the bespectacled stranger. Sa’id, meanwhile, went quietly to speak with Ms. Hadani. She called Uri into her office, all smiles. “We can’t offer you a high salary. There is, of course, a mandatory probation period, but we would love to have you come work with us. When can you start?”
“How about right now?”
“Oh, that would be wonderful! We just need to take care of some of the usual paperwork. Please come sit in here. I know you have most of the information we require already, so it won’t take long. Meanwhile, Sa’id will prepare your desk, machine, and phone for you. I know you will love it here.”
Uri took his briefcase to the table she had set out for him; he filled out the forms as he had been taught during his training. The Homeland staff had prepared him well; it took less than thirty minutes to complete the work. He was welcomed by the rest of the team as he put his new desk in order, learning how to use the phone and log in to the computer with his new password. By then, it was time for lunch; he joined the others in a trip to their favorite spot, where they dined on some of Uri’s favorite Mediterranean dishes, washed down with local sparkling water.
Uri was very deferential to the others. He listened politely as they told him of their schooling, their girlfriends, and their ambitions. He could see he had entered their world as a sort of father figure; he offered little but took note of what they offered. Every bit helps, he thought.
They returned to work, everyone in high spirits. Uri learned that this section of the Operations Division had been searching for a capable computer person for some months. One of their highest priorities, it turned out, was for someone fluent in English. Uri had already learned from Ms. Hadani that her section had been assigned the task of analyzing dispatches stolen from US Department of Defense documents relating to Iran’s growing military capabilities. She hastened to assure him that theirs was not the only office in the government that had this assignment; there were many across the spectrum of the Revolutionary Government. Here, the focus was on information that had been gleaned from computer-coded internal messages among defense department offices in Washington, DC. It was all written in highly technical English, which was proving to be a complicating issue for the Iranian military operatives. It would be a great feather in their cap if they could break down these coded messages sooner, and with better accuracy than any other division.
So, Uri was not surprised when Sa’id first asked him, as they sat down to business after lunch, if his English skills matched those with the computer. Uri pointed with some modesty at his resume that showed he had learned his English while studying in Lebanon.
“Yes,” Sa’id replied, “I noticed your Farsi had the unique characteristics of that region.”
“Why don’t you let me have a look at some of the English-language messages that Ms. Hadani spoke to me about?”
“Oh, she mentioned those, did she?” Sa’id seemed a bit disappointed. “Well, I suppose that would be a good place to start,” he agreed somewhat sullenly. He had wanted complete control over his new asset. He shuffled through some papers on his desk, all marked both “Urgent” and “Most Secret” in Farsi.
Uri, his glasses perched on his nose, perused quickly through the first document. It was a rough conversion of the coded message into idiomatic, technical English. “Well,” he said calmly in Farsi, “this one deals with a new medium-range defensive missile the Americans discovered in ‘our capabilities.’ They feel it could take out some of their better midrange offensive rockets.” By the word our, Uri was referring, of course, to Iran.
Sa’id sat there stunned by this immediate translation and analysis. “You got all that from this page of transmission?”
“Well, I have a pretty good knowledge of English from my time in Lebanon. And I know a bit about military hardware as well. It’s all in my resume.”
Sa’id rushed over to a cabinet and retrieved some sweets, which he offered to share with his newfound expert. Uri demurred as the pudgy Iranian gorged himself with sugary treats, grabbing more top-secret American internal communications. “Can you look through these—well, as much as you can—today? It will be most helpful to us.” He was overjoyed with his new assistant. What this could mean to the Republic! Not to mention his own career.
“Of course,” Uri replied, thinking to himself how much Tom Buckley would be able to make of this new connection. He got to his desk and started reading the American DOD messages. He spent the rest of the afternoon reading and analyzing the documents, surreptitiously hiding a few notes in his briefcase. They would be undecipherable to anyone else. At the end of the day, he made a big show of returning the stolen American transmissions to Sa’id, saying he would try to finish by the next day. Sa’id grinned with pride as he said to Uri, “Shab bekheir, Heydar!” Uri responded likewise, saying good evening to his new boss.
Uri returned slightly early from work, savoring what had to be considered a roaring start to his job. He was eager to leave a coded message for Tom at Homeland Security.
He arrived home in the late afternoon; the heat of the day was just beginning to subside. The beautiful Alborz mountains that rose from the northern edge of the city produced a wonderfully cool breeze that in the winter became very cold. It was far different from the sticky heat of the Persian Gulf region that Uri and Lara had suffered through so recently during their last mission. In fact, Uri knew Tehran’s weather to be quite similar to that of Denver in the States: warm and dry in the summer; cool and dry in the winter. But it also suffered from the air pollution that plagued the American city. The mountain range offered protection from severe weather but also formed a boundary to adequate ventilation. Clear skies and a plethora of automobiles had led to toxic buildup of nitrogen oxides, known as smog. Hopefully, Uri would be gone before the late summer episodes began. Meanwhile, though, he had more than enough on his plate to keep him from fretting about the weather. He just enjoyed his little walk from the bus stop to the little house that was to be his temporary home.
“Good evening, Heydar,” Tala greeted him, opening the door for him even before he reached it. She was all smiles, dressed in a flattering flowered print dress that reached well below her knees. She was, he noticed, wearing heeled pumps that showed well-formed ankles. Don’t even think about it, he told himself. “We have a nice roast for dinner tonight; I hope you will like it.”
“Yes, I’m sure I will; your meals have been outstanding.” He excused himself, saying he would like to lie down for a bit before dinner. He headed upstairs, needing some time to properly phrase his necessarily brief dispatch to Tom. Hopefully, he would get a quick reply, perhaps even an update on Lara. He put together a synopsis of the day’s events, especially a description of the stolen conversations from DOD and his assignment in the translations of them. He sent it on its way to New York, knowing it was some eight and a half hours earlier there. Tom would see it at the beginning of his workday, allowing him to draft a quick reply.
He took a slow, refreshing shower, then checked his in-boxes, both on his local phone and his coded business receiver. It had been only twenty minutes since his transmission to the United States. His Iranian cell phone showed only a greeting from Ms. Hadani at work, welcoming him to the group. However, there was already a detailed response from Tom. His team had hoped for precisely this kind of opportunity to infect the Iranian military efforts. They would first verify Uri’s a
bility to accurately track the US efforts. Tom would transmit, through the same channels that Uri had seen at his new office in Tehran, a “secret” description of a US military rocket test to be conducted in the Pacific the next day. In fact, the message continued, such a test would be run, or appear to be, for all eyes in the sky to see. There would be a launch and an explosion downrange. It was just a test of an existing missile, but an observer would have no way to know that. Then, the “secret” transmissions would report a successful hit on a retired cargo ship with complete details on its position. Satellite data available to the Iranians and their Russian allies would confirm just such an event at that exact geographical location. In fact, a missile firing would occur at the appropriate time followed by a preset explosion on a target ship. This should verify Uri’s credentials and ability to break into the Americans’ coded messages. He was delighted with this plan; and he knew his new Iranian bosses would be as well.
There was just a short message about Lara: she was still getting settled and had not yet gained employment. Otherwise, all was well with her. Uri lay down on his bed and allowed himself a short rest before dinner; he then came downstairs in fresh clothing. Even with the windows open to allow the evening breeze, he could smell the delicious aroma of a Persian roast. The rest of the family was already seated as Tala brought in the main dish: beef chuck covered with, of all things, rose petals!
“What else do you have in there?” he said, smiling.
“You mean besides the rose petals?” She laughed. “Well, there’s sumac, cumin, cinnamon, and lime powder. In case you ever want to try it yourself.”
They all dug into the fragrant meal. It was clear to all that Heydar was in a good mood. “You had a good day at work?” Aunt Sarina asked casually.
Uri just relaxed his shoulders and replied, “You could say so, yes, I suppose so. And this roast makes it even better.” Tala beamed at him in recognition of the compliment. Don’t get carried away, Uri thought to himself. He didn’t say more as Tala brought in the dessert, fresh fruit from the local farms. “Is it safe to walk around here in the evenings?” he inquired of everyone, not just Tala.
But it was she who immediately answered, “Oh yes, very safe. You can see the mountains in the moonlight, too. Very beautiful.” She looked at him as if to ask if he wanted company.
“Thanks, that’s just what I need to settle down from a busy day. If you’ll excuse me . . .” He stood and headed for the door. He had brought a light leather jacket downstairs. Outside, he went over the day’s events once more. Tomorrow should be even more interesting, he reasoned. If Tom came through with that transmission and it reached the Operations desk . . .
The evening sky was indeed spectacular. A gentle breeze wiped away the day’s smog, revealing the spectacular north mountains in the late twilight. With the traffic noise abated, he could hear the urban bird population in the nearby park. Finches, gulls, and other waterfowl made quite a racket as they dove for leftovers; the Caspian Sea lay just beyond the mountains. Uri walked over a mile through the hilly suburban neighborhood without incident, finally realizing he was quite tired and ready for bed. He headed quietly back to the house and, using the key Tala had given him, made his way noiselessly into the already darkened living room and up the stairs. He dropped onto the bed dressed only in his white T-shirt and trousers, almost falling asleep in the first few minutes. It was now about 10:00 p.m.
Suddenly, he heard a gentle tap on the door. He rose and opened it to see Tala standing there in the dim light from the single bulb in the hall. She was clad only in a thin cloth robe that was nearly transparent. She had a tray with cups on it, which she held out, smiling at him. “I thought you might want some tea before bed.”
What the hell have I got into here? Uri thought anxiously. This was not in the plan. He hurriedly thought to find a way out of the situation gracefully. “Oh, that’s very kind of you, but actually, I’m already falling asleep. Long day, you know.” He tried to appear casual, not in the least intimate.
“That’s all right,” she replied seemingly unfazed. “Maybe another time.” Uri just nodded as he gently closed the door. From now on, he promised himself, he would wear the geeky glasses at home as well as at the office.
* * *
Uri looked forward to the following day at the office. This was to be his first real test to see if the fake secret messages would establish his credentials. He arrived at work tingling with anticipation; he hoped it didn’t show. Perhaps it would be seen as the typical first-day syndrome: a new employee trying his best to impress his superiors. He deliberately arrived ten minutes late so the Iranian decoder team could already have received and attempted to analyze the message that they had hopefully stolen from their signal-intercept system.
It started out well. Sa’id had already arrived and appeared very excited to see Uri. “Heydar, come quickly; we have a fresh transmission for you. It’s marked ‘Most Secret’ by the Americans! We are so far unable to unscramble it. Can you have a look at it, first thing? It appears to be delivered to one of their agents identified by the pseudonym ‘U37FGI.’”
Uri was exceedingly pleased by this news; this was in fact the moniker Homeland was to use for false dispatches aimed specifically for him. He did his best at looking bewildered at the enthusiasm displayed by Sa’id and his team. It was made easier by the thick glasses that made him seem so innocent. “Yes, of course, let me take a look.” He set his briefcase on his desk and fired up his computer as Sa’id handed him the raw message. Uri took his time, glancing around at the eager faces surrounding him. Sa’id, recognizing what he saw as discomfort on the new recruit’s face, gently asked the others to give him some privacy. It was, after all, in everyone’s best interest to get the stolen dispatch decrypted as soon and as accurately as possible.
Uri put on his earphones and tapped in the keystrokes he had preset to give him the information on the proposed test. He put on quite a show for the team around him. Though they were all pretending to be busy with their own work, it was clear to Uri they were anxiously waiting for his decryption. Uri did his best to demonstrate frustration, followed by an eager display of success as he printed out the preassembled analysis.
Sa’id was the first to rush to the printer. His jaw dropped as he read the transmission. Then, with a huge smile, he clapped the newcomer Heydar on the shoulder and announced to the little assembly: “The Americans are going to test a new midrange rocket in the Pacific, right under our noses! We will be able to see the whole thing with our satellite. What a coup for our team!” Then a little more subdued, he reminded Uri: “Let’s hope this comes off as anticipated. We don’t want to look like fools.” Uri could only trust the same thing. He wanted the success in the worst way.
The next day was Thursday, with the demonstration planned for 2:00 a.m. Pacific time in the United States, which would be 1:30 p.m. in Iran. No doubt, thought Sa’id, to give the Americans a clear view of the impact. He told his superiors immediately; they were a bit skeptical, it seemed to him, but they would pass the information up the chain of command. Sa’id received word back an hour later. There would, in fact, be a satellite in place at that time to view at least part of the exercise: the impact.
Sa’id was ecstatic, if somewhat apprehensive. This could either be a major success for his small Operations team or an embarrassing black eye. If the test failed to come off as promised . . . well, he thought to himself, there was always the excuse that the Americans had failed in their launch attempt. He brought the team together and gave them the rest of the day off, with the insistence that they all show up early the next day to make sure the Americans did not for any reason postpone the test. He looked at Uri with the silent caution that he scan the airwaves for any word of a postponement. Uri caught the drift at once and nodded his acceptance. He would be at work early to check any and all telecommunications from Midway Island. It was there that the test would be supervised. He tried to look calm and confident as he packed up and hea
ded for the door.
It was not yet 1:00 p.m. as Uri caught the bus that would take him to his neighborhood. It was his plan to take a long walk around the parks and bazaars within the Vali Asr area. He didn’t want to show up early and allow his eager hostess a suggestion that he was available for any extracurricular activity.
It was another beautiful spring day in the northern part of Tehran. The markets were busy, and he could hear children playing in the schoolyards. There were happy sounds all around, tempered only by the silent admonitions from the somber ayatollah and his acolytes from the ever-present billboards. The smog had even cleared off early due to the northerly breeze off the mountains. Uri sat in a park, made sure he was not being watched, then checked his messages. He was especially concerned for any word from Tom regarding the planned missile launch; there was none. Checking again for unwanted visitors, he sent a cautionary note asking for immediate communiqué of any change in the coming procedure. He was certain that Tom would not allow him to suffer the embarrassment, or worse, of a no-show.
Uri strolled around the parks and food stalls for another two hours until it was the proper time for him to show up at home. He put on his goggles, as he thought of them, and walked slowly to his residence. Tala was right there at the door as he entered, feigning exhaustion. “A troubling day?” she inquired immediately.
“Tiring, to say the least,” he offered with a weak smile. “And I must be there early tomorrow as well.”
“Oh, that is too bad,” she said, somewhat disappointed. “I thought you might like to go to a movie . . . or something.”
“Not tonight, I’m afraid,” he said, hoping she would get the message.
“And why the spectacles?” she inquired.
“Oh, I was so busy, I even forgot to take them off,” he said sheepishly, as he headed slowly for the stairway to his room.