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Teheran, Iran 1960 Dempsey grabbed his cigar and fired it up again. There was a light tap on the door. “Come in!” he bellowed.
“Sorry I’m late, Colonel Dempsey. I was unavoidably detained.” Scott stood in the doorway. There was an ugly bruise on his cheek, but he flashed his usual, confident smile.
“Get your ass in here, Fallon! On the double!”
The charming grin on Scott Fallon’s face, rumored to drive the female employees at ARMISH/MAAG wild, left Duke Dempsey stone cold. “Lieutenant Fallon,” he continued. “It has come to my attention that you’ve been playing paratrooper with the Iranians. And in the course of these games, you perished in a C-47 crash just outside Jajroud.”
“That report is incorrect, sir. Obviously.”
“Are you crazy?” Dempsey raged. “Do you realize what the implications would be if a U.S. Army officer is killed while illegally jumping from Iranian military aircraft?”
“No, sir.”
“They’d say—somebody would say—that we were spying on them.”
“But I wasn’t killed, sir. And we aren’t spying on them,” Scott returned easily. “Are we?” ***
In her apartment in Abassabad, Susan Edwards sat at the table in her breakfast nook sipping orange juice and wondering how to get rid of Lieutenant Charles H. West. She had no deep moral regret that she’d slept with Charlie. He’d served her purpose adequately the evening before, she supposed, if not enthrallingly. But she didn’t want to waste her day off with him.
Susan was not promiscuous. She’d kept herself pure in college, mostly out of fear of pregnancy—but the advent of The Pill had changed all that. At twenty-two, she was beginning to worry about ever finding a man she truly wanted to marry…a man who’d be able to stand up to her father. Her experience, aside from her groping, grappling college days and her lifetime friendship with Sandy Rockford, was limited to Charlie West. She didn’t know why she had allowed Charlie the gift of her virginity, except that she was lonely.
When she had let herself and Charlie into her building after their weekly Thursday night dinner and movie, she had found a letter from her father in her mailbox. Charlie had been far more excited about the crisp, linen envelope bearing the crest of the U.S. Senate than Susan had, and that was her first inkling that perhaps it wasn’t for herself alone that Charlie liked her.
She didn’t hear him get out of bed and sneak up behind her; and when his kiss fell lightly on her neck she gasped in surprise, which he mistook for arousal. He laughed softly.
“Come back to bed,” he coaxed.
“No,” she said. “We’d be there all day and I’ve got loads to do.”
But he reached out and pulled her close with one hand as he untied the sash of her robe with the other.
***
Scott was early, so he took a walk while he waited for Abdullah. The bazaar, packed with merchants, tourists and off-duty Persian and American soldiers, was underscored with the sound of shopkeepers negotiating with anyone who stopped to examine their wares. Scott was fascinated. The tantalizing aroma of roasting meat, spices and fresh-baked bread, accented by the pungent smells of the jubes, or gutters, was intoxicating. He wandered around enjoying the extraordinary energy.
Everything was old and grimy but it was the best place in Teheran to get a clear picture of the local culture. The bazaar was the hub of Iranian life, the place where lies, rumors and ironic truths spread like wildfire.
When it was time to meet Abdullah, Scott made his way back to the entrance and soon spotted his Persian friend, who was with a woman cloaked in the traditional black chador. Another woman stepped out from behind them. Scott’s heart lurched uncomfortably as he stared at the young beauty.
She had the body of a goddess and the face of an angel, with creamy fair skin and large, black eyes. Her long hair fell in a cloud of raven waves around her shoulders, and she was wearing a dress made of some kind of flowing fabric that billowed slightly around perfect legs.
Abdullah bent toward this vision for a moment; then he looked up, saw Scott and waved. Mechanically, Scott returned the wave; and his feet feeling like wooden blocks, he slowly went to join them. He could feel his brain go fuzzy and his mouth go dry. She smiled at him as he approached, and it was as if his spirit stumbled, fell, and plunged into the endless depths of her astonishing eyes.
***
Norman was in high spirits. “It’s not only that I enjoy a good party,” he told Scott. “I can’t wait to see how you react when you get a look at Susan Edwards.”
“Come on,” Scott replied. “No one can live up the image you’ve created.” But she did. She was everything Norman promised. As they entered the ballroom, Norman pointed her out to Scott.
“Well?” he asked
“Not bad,” Scott admitted.
Scanning the crowd, Scott wondered if Abdullah and his sister would be there. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Janous, as exquisite as she was unattainable, since the first moment he saw her. Having her constantly on his mind annoyed him.
The fathers of Respectable Iranian Girls had big plans for their daughters and they didn’t want them sullied by foreigners, not even Americans, as welcome as they were. Getting involved with a GI was enough to get one of these girls executed, probably by being put against a wall and stoned to death, and probably by her nearest male relatives. Scott didn’t need the aggravation that came with forbidden fruit. He was looking forward to meeting Susan Edwards.
***
Scott’s confidence grew with the realization of his unique change in status. He felt only a little shaky as he went through the big double doors of MAAG Hospital. A sharp stab of pain in his bad leg reminded him to be careful his limp didn’t give him away. Dempsey, who was standing near the foot of the cranked-up hospital bed, returned Scott’s salute, introduced him to Lou Michaels and then took a chair near the bed. Lou stared at Scott a moment.
“So,” he said, amusement in his voice. “This is the invincible Lieutenant Fallon?”
Scott returned his gaze, equally cool. “I don’t know about invincible, sir.”
“We had two governments in a panic and you bought us some time until everybody calmed down. We’re in your debt.”
Scott made no reply to that. He didn’t know much about the CIA, but he doubted they were ever in anyone’s debt. Lou glanced at Dempsey.
“Thanks for stopping by, Colonel,” he said. “I’d like to have a word with Lieutenant Fallon. In private.”
“Certainly, Lou.” If Dempsey was offended by the dismissal, he didn’t show it. The door closed silently behind him, and Lou turned to look at Scott. Scott got an eerie feeling, like Michaels had x-ray vision, like Superman, and could see right into his brain.
“Have a seat, Lieutenant. You recovered from that bug you got at Major Sadeghi’s engagement party?”
“Yes sir. I’m fine. And yourself?”
“Can’t kill an old dog like me. Tough about the ambassador, though.” Scott agreed that it was. “How did you find things in Qum?”
“All due respect, Mr. Michaels,” Scott said quietly. “Can you prove I was anywhere near Qum?”
Lou almost laughed out loud at the kid’s audacity. Calmness under pressure was a requirement for the job.
“Why the hell do you think I’m in this bed, Fallon? And Ambassador Chilton is dead?”
“I wouldn’t presume to know, sir.”
Lou reached into his robe pocket for a cigarette. “Ever think about becoming a Special Forces Advisor? You know—those macho guys with the green berets.”
“Only briefly,” Scott answered. “When I first learned I was assigned to Iran.”
“You should give it some more thought,” Lou said.
“Why is that sir?”
“Call me Lou. We’re going to know each other for a long time.”
Scott stared at the CIA station chief, his hazel eyes flashing steely blue. “Why is that, Lou? Why Special Forces?”
“Because you made a few mistakes in Qum and you’re too good for that. Special Forces will teach you how to be thorough.”
“What exactly do you want from me?”
Lou grinned, and then expertly, earnestly, convincingly, he launched into his sales pitch. It covered everything a patriotic young man needed to know about the necessity of espionage in the modern world, carefully building up to the ego boost of how valuable a man like Scott could be to the Company.
“You have to understand,” Lou finished. “It’s essential to U.S. national security that we call the shots in the Middle East, and that includes Iran. We can’t allow the Soviets to control so much oil. Colonel Dempsey has asked you to observe the activities of your friends in the Iranian military and report back to him. From now on, you’ll report to me.”
“Then there is something you should know. It may not mean anything but some IIA officers are worried about the Iranian clergy—especially this Khomeini guy. They think he should be watched.”
Lou kept his face passive. “If the Shah gets careless, it could get out of hand.” He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. “Hell, these fanatics are worse than Bible-thumpin’ Baptists. Keep me informed.”
***
There were so many guests in the receiving line after dinner that they had just a few seconds to convey their good wishes to the bride and groom. Janous looked at her husband with awe and Susan whispered to Scott as they left that it was obvious how much she loved the stern-looking major. He mumbled his agreement as she declared it a wedding worthy of the most romantic fairy tale.
“Ali Baba and the forty bridesmaids,” Harrison complained as they walked out to where his limo was waiting.
“You’re tired, darlin’,” Dina said. “I knew this would be too much for you.”
“I’m fine. But we’ve got a long trip ahead of us.” The Senator turned to Scott. “We have the limo through tomorrow, so you kids take it—get the taxpayers’ money’s worth out of the damn thing.” When they pulled up in front of the hotel, he asked Susan, “Any chance I can talk you into coming back home to the good ol’ USA any time soon?”
“Sorry,” she said, glancing at Scott.
Harrison followed her gaze. “So long, Lieutenant, for now. I expect I’ll see you again.”
“Yes sir. Have a good trip back.” He shook the Senator’s hand and nodded at Dina. “Mrs. Edwards, pleasure to meet you.”
Susan watched her father and his wife go through the big hotel doors. “Oh, thank God!” she exclaimed. “What now? Want to go to my place?”
***
Scott smiled at her, knowing that he should want what she was offering, wishing that he did. “It’s too early to go home,” he said. “And I could use a drink. That’s the first wedding I’ve ever been to where there wasn’t a drop of booze.”
The rest of the evening was a merciful blur. Scott tried to extinguish his misery with three martinis in rapid succession before slowing down his intake. He hardly remembered the ride to Susan’s apartment, or backing her into a corner of the shaky old elevator and nuzzling her neck on the way up to her flat, or insisting on opening the door for her and fumbling for what seemed an eternity with her key.
Susan offered to make coffee, or to get him another drink; but he’d had enough to drink, and it hadn’t helped. He could still see Janous’ face; he could still see tears shining in her eyes as she became Sadeghi’s wife. And he knew they were not tears of joy.
“Miss Edwards,” he said to Susan with a lopsided grin, his words only a little slurred. “We are long overdue to complete the maneuvers we started on our picnic. Do you remember?”
“I remember.”
“Well, then.” He tugged at the fastening of her dress. He was more adept with her zipper than he had been with her key. In a few seconds, he eased the garment off her shoulders, and it fell to the floor. He intended to be as gentle in removing the rest of her clothes, but something suddenly snapped in him.
***
Lou occasionally met Scott at a small hotel bar on Khiaban Istanbuli, although neither of them partook of the local feminine talent the establishment offered for a gentleman’s pleasure. Lou clapped him on the back before taking the seat next to him.
Scott swiveled slowly on the barstool to face Lou squarely.
“What would you say if I told you the Iranians want me to bring intelligence to you, that sometimes they feed me selective intelligence for your ears alone?”
“Makes your job a hell of a lot easier.” “You don’t care that they’re on to you?”
“I’m not even surprised. But we’ve got things pretty well in hand right now. The Shah likes us. The people like us. We’re welcomed with open arms in the Middle East, especially in Iran.”
“Then why am I doing this?”
“Look at it like a giant game of Monopoly,” Lou said, and Scott wasn’t surprised at his choice of allegory. Lou was not a man who played chess. “Whoever’s got the oil in the Middle East has Boardwalk and Park Place and is therefore unbeatable. And if we don’t lead Iran out of the dark ages, the Russians will.”
“And if we do it first, we get the oil.”
Lou watched Scott make his way, straight and tall, out of the bar. He envied the lieutenant his youth, his strength, his quick instincts and his good looks. Then he sat back to finish his scotch, again weighing his unexpected good fortune. He’d heard Susan Edwards had taken a fancy to Scott Fallon. It couldn’t have worked out better if Lou had planned it that way. It seemed all the right people took a shine to Scott. |
