A Trap in Paris_A Breathtaking Thriller to Keep You Guessing How Much of it is Real...

by Uzi Eilam

  “Really? I hope it’s also a ticket to graduate studies abroad.”

  “Indeed it is, Kemal. And nothing would please me more than if you received the dean’s prize based on your talents. What else is new?”

  “Well…nothing special, except…” Kemal hesitated.

  A rustling of garments and the sound of footsteps could be heard descending the stairs, and Delakash joined them in the kitchen.

  “Muhammad Ali, I thought you’d let yourself get more rest than that after such an exhausting trip,” she admonished her husband, placing her hand on his shoulder and leaning over to kiss him on his forehead. “Good morning, Kemal,” she added, smiling. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No, mother. It’s fine…”

  “You were about to tell me something, Kemal,” Jamshidi reminded him.

  “Oh, yes… Some of the students at our university are resentful about the repression of independent thinking and expression of ideas that are inconsistent with the ideas of the regime. There have already been a few demonstrations against those responsible for overseeing university and student life on behalf of the Guardians.”

  “Have you been taking part in this activity?” Jamshidi asked, unable to hide his concern.

  “Yes, Father, as have most of my friends. We believe that Iran must be a country in which people can freely express their views. Isn’t that why you and your generation carried out your revolution that overthrew the Shah and brought us back Ayatollah Khomeini?” asked Kemal passionately.

  “The direction of our country is the direction that was forged by Khomeini, and today’s leadership strictly adheres to it. If there are a few hotheads in the morality units, this is something the leadership can take care of.”

  “Tell your father about how they arrested your girlfriend, Farin,” said Delakash. “Back when I was a student, they would never have dared to do such a thing.”

  “I didn’t want to burden you with this, Father, before you’ve even had a chance to unpack.”

  “Don’t worry about me, son. Tell me what happened.” Jamshidi was now wide awake.

  “I’ll explain,” Delakash volunteered. “Farin and two of her student friends were arrested yesterday by the morality guards. They were detained for a night and a day because the female morality police thought that the fabric of the chadors they were wearing was too transparent. If you ask me, the police women arrested them out of jealousy of their youthful beauty,” she said indignantly. “Their mothers were summoned to the prison and forced to promise that they would see to it that the girls dressed ‘respectably’ in the future. Farin couldn’t stop crying.”

  “I didn’t sleep at all that night either,” Kemal said. “I was worried about Farin. There are frightening rumors about what goes on in that prison.”

  Jamshidi remained silent. He could still clearly remember his wife, Delakash, as a young, stunning university student who was sharp as a tack and unafraid to express her views. He believed every word they said about the incident. Was it just a coincidence that his son’s girlfriend had been arrested and subjected to rough treatment? Or was it the long arm of his rival, General Ja’afari, and another clever attempt to tarnish his name?

  “It sounds to me like they went a bit too far with the girls. We need to check the instructions that were issued to the modesty guards and whether there has been a change in their general policy,” said Jamshidi, regaining his composure.

  “Is that something you can check?” asked Kemal. “Does our Supreme Leader know about such actions? You’re a close friend of the president. Can he do something about it?”

  “I’ll speak to him,” Jamshidi promised. “But you should keep a lower profile when it comes to criticizing the regime. You won’t be able to change the situation, and you’ll be risking your chances for professional advancement.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Father, but you know that we’re right,” said Kemal emotionally.

  “I have never tried to stop you from thinking as you see fit, Kemal,” said Jamshidi, raising his voice, just as his twin teenage girls entered the kitchen and sat down at the table, listening intently to their father’s words. “But it’s not enough to be right; you also need to be smart. If your career is important to you, you’ll heed my words.”

  “Something else happened this week,” Delakash interrupted. “Those guards also detained our twins on the pretext that they were exposing too much of their foreheads. Can you believe that?”

  “It’s true, Father,” said the twins in unison.

  “They said they’d arrest them if they didn’t change their behavior,” explained Delakash.

  “As I said, I’ll check the guards’ instructions,” Jamshidi assured them once again. “Now, let’s enjoy the rest of our morning together.”

  Delakash worked hard serving breakfast to her loved ones until Kemal and the twins finished eating, grabbed their book bags, and left for the day, the twins to the local high school and Kemal to the university.

  “You may have succeeded in reassuring the children, my dear, but it’s clear that you’re still not at peace,” observed Delakash.

  “You know me too well,” Jamshidi said. Ever since he had begun courting Delakash, when she was an alluring university student with charcoal-black hair and curious eyes, he had recognized her innate wisdom and keen perception. At all the critical crossroads in his career, it was she who had helped him discern the multiple sides of the situation, no matter how complicated, and offered him the practical advice he needed.

  “What happened in Paris? Did you make headway on procurement and achieve something that will placate the leadership?” she asked. “And what’s Ja’afari trying to do anyway? Sabotage your work?”

  “You know Ja’afari as well as I do. He’s a troublemaker who meddles in all the affairs of the leadership.” Jamshidi sighed. “Ever since we were battalion commanders together in the war with Iraq, he’s regarded me as a threat to his status and position. He’s still angry about not having been part of our seizure of the American embassy because he was abroad at the time. I think he’s also threatened by my academic background and the responsibility I’ve been assigned for our technological development apparatus by the president and the supreme leader.”

  “All you need to do is use your talent and your leadership abilities to make sure your projects succeed. It’s what you’ve always done. That will put an end to their petty meddling, including the disgraceful harassment of your family members. And don’t forget, you’ve got the president in your corner. He also seems to feel threatened by Ja’afari. After all, it’s quite clear that Ja’afari is seeking the Supreme Leader’s blessing to run for president.”

  She’s right again, thought Jamshidi, remembering the countless times Delakash had been there to support him in the past.

  “Everything you’re saying is true, dear, but you must remember that my job these days is like playing concurrent games of chess on a number of different boards, and that my opponents include world champions in technology, terrorism, and intrigue.”

  “I trust you, Muhammad Ali. I have no doubt you can handle anything they throw at you,” she said without hesitation. “The game of kings is an inseparable part of your personality. You will ultimately prevail.”

  Jamshidi got up from the table and hugged his wife, for whom his love and gratitude had never been stronger.

  Chapter 29

  It was still early, but the office of the president was already bustling. The president’s assistant led Jamshidi to the small meeting room. This would not be a meeting with many attendees. He was relieved.

  “Good morning Jamshidi!” the president called out from his seat at the table without looking up from the chessboard before him. “Please, sit down and join me. I’d love to hear your views on my situation.” The president and Jamshidi had a longstanding tradition of spending qualit
y time together playing the game of kings. The general, who had been the reigning university champion throughout all his years at the university, made it a rule not to win too many games against the president.

  “White will achieve checkmate in five moves,” Jamshidi announced after examining the board for a few seconds.

  “Are you certain?” asked the president. “I don’t see it…”

  “Let’s continue playing, sir,” Jamshidi suggested. “I’ll be black, and we’ll see where it leads.” Sure enough, in just five moves the president declared “check” and then “mate.”

  “You are to be commended on your foresight,” the president said. “As we both know, you also demonstrate this quality in your professional pursuits. We had good reason for making you responsible for our entire technological apparatus and for the research and development of our advanced weapon systems.”

  “You are quite right, sir. R and D requires long-term vision,” Jamshidi agreed. “It also requires the ability to identify junctions where it’s necessary to identify the paths that will lead to success. The experience acquired by playing chess certainly helps, but life’s challenges are typically more complex…” He stopped speaking when the president began showing signs of impatience. The time had clearly come for him to broach the subject he had been summoned to discuss. “Suffice it to say that, from where I’m sitting, what we are currently facing, in terms of our development projects and the procurement effort, can be compared to a game of simultaneous chess.”

  “That’s just what I was hoping you would say, Jamshidi,” the president said. “I specifically requested this time alone with you, before Ja’afari and his men arrive. Why don’t you give me a general description of the boards on which you’re currently playing for procurement in Europe? How are we doing there? Were you able to iron out the problems? Are you optimistic?”

  “It seems to me that we’ve identified all the boards with which we need to contend in Europe. Most are concentrated in Paris,” Jamshidi explained. “The French assigned Professor Bernard, an advisor to the French interior minister, to lead the campaign against us. General de Villiers, of the prime minister’s office, is also quite involved. These are dangerous men. On the next board, we have the Americans who were sent to Paris: Dr. Gerald Deutsch of SRI in California and John O’Connor of the FBI. These are the men who dealt a severe blow to our network in California.”

  “Are there any other boards?” the president asked, looking even more concerned.

  “Yes. There’s also the Israeli delegation to the task force. It’s headed by Dr. Gideon Ben-Ari, who was also involved in compromising our network in California. There’s also a talented Israeli general named Haim Bar-Oz. But the most dangerous Israeli involved, in my opinion, is the youngest of the three: Dan Avni. He specializes in breaking codes and decrypting communication systems. We suspect that he’s their main source of intelligence about us. The German and French tech and defense industries are different kinds of chessboards, each requiring different methods. We built a network of contacts within the electronics, materials, and aeronautics industries, and money has succeeded in winning over the hearts of most. My chief operatives in both countries, Madani and Jawad, are doing very good work.”

  “That’s a general description, Jamshidi,” the president said. “I’d like some details about the measures being taken. Where have you succeeded, and where have you failed? And please, don’t hesitate to tell me about the more problematic aspects.”

  “We were able to thwart a major task force effort: the deployment of ambushes in the Pyrenees Mountains. They were operating in response to false information we had fed them about the route to be used to smuggle the materials we had purchased. It caused them to focus their people and resources on a futile effort, and it bought us time.”

  “So, what’s really happening with the shipments?”

  “We built an alternate apparatus based on shipping the items to Portugal from Germany and France by plane. From there, by direct transfer from one plane to another, the shipment will be flown directly to Tehran on Iran Air.”

  “Are you prepared to handle our attempts to stop the shipment? After all, as you’ve often told me, it’s critical in chess to evaluate the multiple options for each move and to decide on the safest one.”

  “Yes, sir. We have backup plans. But we also have pieces that can offer us considerable assistance.”

  “And what exactly are these pieces?”

  “I activated a sleeper agent. He’ll be fulfilling two primary functions: the provision of information we allow him to relay and, in exchange, the direct acquisition of information.”

  “That’s the pawn you’ve been protecting the entire game? Or perhaps he’s a more important piece on your board?”

  “That’s a shrewd observation, sir. But his more challenging task is to recruit sources from the very heart of their task force.”

  “Do you believe your people in Europe will succeed?” the president asked skeptically.

  “I can’t say for sure, sir—but, as we know, large sums of money ultimately succeed in enticing most people.”

  “Okay. Go on.”

  “In the nuclear realm, sir, we’ve made progress not only in acquiring the materials we need for the advanced centrifuges—”

  “Do you mean the Kevlar and carbon fibers?” asked the president, demonstrating his extensive knowledge of the technical side of the project.

  “Yes. We’ve also made progress in our contacts with dealers from the former Soviet Union. There’s a good possibility, sir, that we’ll be able to acquire a substance called red mercury, which could potentially bring us closer to a breakthrough in the development of a nuclear weapon, without the need for enriched uranium or plutonium.”

  “Well done, Jamshidi. Is there anything else you would like to tell me before Ja’afari and his men join us?”

  “Well, actually, there is,” he said hesitantly. “I would apologize for burdening you with—”

  “Nonsense,” said the president. “If you think it’s important, I expect you to share it with me.”

  “During the week I was away, members of my family were harassed by the modesty guards on two separate occasions.”

  “Really?” the president asked, looking concerned. “What happened? Which family members?”

  “They arrested my son’s girlfriend, Farin, at the university for wearing an ostensibly transparent garment. They held her for an entire night, which appears to have been quite unjustified.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes, sir. The next day they arrested my twin teenage girls on similar grounds. And sir, these are extremely obedient, well-behaved girls.”

  “The public behavior of our countrymen is important, Muhammad Ali. I have no doubt that you, like the rest of the leadership, support this position.”

  “Of course I do,” replied Jamshidi, weighing his words carefully. “But in this case, sir, the inspectors may have deviated from regulations. Perhaps someone authorized them to harass the members of my household in particular? Does General Ja’afari know what his people are doing?”

  “If there was any deviation, General Jamshidi,” the president said, in a more formal tone, “the Guardians will examine the relevant regulations and ensure that their people review them. I’ll see to it.”

  There was a soft knock. The door opened, and the president’s assistant entered, walked over to the president, and whispered something in his ear.

  “General Ja’afari and his men have arrived for the meeting,” the president said. “Let’s move into the conference room.”

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” the president began, looking around the table at Ja’afari, his aides, and Jamshidi, who was sitting tensely on the edge of his seat. “General Jamshidi returned from Paris yesterday, and I’ve asked him to update us on the state of procurement and our other ac
tivities in Europe. Are you ready to fill us in, Muhammad Ali?”

  “Yes sir, thank you. And good morning to you, General Ja’afari.” Jamshidi began, launching into a detailed account of what he had already told the president about the situation during their one-on-one meeting.

  “General Jamshidi,” Ja’afari said after hearing the report, “based on your presentation, I’m still unable to understand the reasons for the delay in our primary projects. What’s holding up the development of the maneuverable warhead for the Shahab missiles? And what’s happening with the second-generation centrifuges?”

  “The projects are progressing at a pace that is quite close to the original plan,” Jamshidi explained calmly. “We’re all aware of the setback caused by the cyberattack on the development computers. You personally promised that the Guardians’ cyberwarfare unit would look into it and provide a solution.”

  “And my people have informed me that your computers are working properly!” Ja’afari fumed.

  “If they have resumed functioning almost as normal,” Jamshidi retorted defiantly, “it’s because of the round-the-clock efforts of my division’s computer unit.”

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” the president interrupted. “There is a cyberthreat, and it won’t go away on its own. It also won’t be solved by an immaterial argument. The cyberwarfare unit will need to work harder against cyberattacks in the future, General Ja’afari.”

  “As for the development plans for the priority projects that Ja’afari asked about,” Jamshidi continued, encouraged by the president’s support, “I must admit that the loss of General Musawi has made things difficult for us. The talented young scientist who was appointed to take the place of Musawi the martyr—may Allah avenge his blood—has yet to prove himself as a technological leader.”

  “Isn’t there anyone else in the division who could have more success?” Ja’afari asked sharply.

  “Dr. Fakari is a brilliant scientist,” Jamshidi retorted, “and, as you remember, I have taken it upon myself to help him until he spreads his wings. I’m certain it won’t take him long. However, the personal security of our senior scientists is a problem that remains unresolved. Mister President, you yourself charged the personal security unit with dealing with the matter immediately, but no progress has been made on this front. My people are scared, and rightfully so.”