The Red Cell André Gallo (essential reading .txt) 📖

The other stayed behind the truck and Vanness ran to the other side of the street behind a telephone pole. All had their automatic pistols out.

As Gold Glasses jumped out of the Mercedes, gun in hand, Steve was already kneeling in back of the car and he could see Hunter had Gold Glasses in his sights while leaning against the hood of the SUV. At the same time, he saw McCabe emerge from the limo holding Karim by his collar. Steve shook his head at Hunter who was looking toward him.

“We can do this with guns if you prefer,” McCabe shouted. “Another dead raghead means nothing to me. Put the gun away. Let your prisoner go, and you can have this guy here,” he said holding onto Karim with one hand and pointing his automatic toward Gold Glasses with the other.

Gold Glasses was talking to the other guard, Muscles, in the back of the Mercedes and looking toward Rue Murat.

“They’re not coming. Your other car is not coming. Trust me,” Steve shouted.” Put your gun away, now. We have a lot more fire power than you do.”

“If any of you fires,” Gold Glasses shouted, “the next shot will kill the girl. First let our guy go!”

The back door of the Mercedes opened, and Muscles stepped out of the car, trailing Kella behind him. Steve, only five feet away behind the car, lunged and struck Muscles in the back of the head with his pistol. As Muscles crumpled to the ground, Steve, one arm around Kella’s waist, ran to the other side of the SUV looking behind him at Gold Glasses who had turned and was pointing his weapon at him. But in the next instant he saw Gold Glasses tumble forward from Hunter’s shot.

Looking disoriented, he walked toward the Mercedes.

24. Aisha’s Apartment

She always thought of herself as Aisha when she was with her husband. She reminded herself of that, as she took a cab back from the Iranian Embassy to her apartment, not wishing to attract attention by getting out of an embassy car. She looked at her watch, wondering what time Ghassem, whom she had just left, would come tonight.

She also worried about her negotiation initiative. Was her idea too transparent? So far, she had not detected any suspicion of her true role. Although she often worried about it as well, she felt confident she was much too smart to be caught, and too intimidating in her role for her actions to be questioned.

But how much longer could she play this dangerous game? Despite her confidence, it was beginning to wear on her nerves, particularly when she thought of the highly placed spies who had been exposed in the past. The KGB had executed more than a dozen CIA spies because Robert Hanssen, an FBI agent, had turned traitor. A KGB officer working for the CIA had uncovered his activities. And Aldrich Ames, a CIA officer working for the KGB, was now in a maximum-security federal prison for life, because he had not exercised the operational precautions taught him in basic CIA training.

What if a high-level Iranian official revealed her true status? Although there was no official American presence in Tehran, there were Western embassies. What if an Iranian official revealed her role to the British, for example? Ghassem had assured her that initially only the Supreme Leader and President Rouhani knew her true identity, and she trusted him to make sure her secret would be tightly held. But she also knew knowledge is power, and secrets are often shared in return for a favor, or for leverage. Washington politics could not function without quid pro quos, and she well knew the same was true in Tehran.

During her service to the Islamic Republic, she had occasionally entertained the idea of simplifying her life and returning to Tehran. But her vow as a child to devote her life to the Shiite nation had always buried the instinct. Now, this furtive conjugal visit with her husband had brought her life commitment to the forefront again. She could board the next Iran Air flight. A year ago, she had slipped on a plane to Tehran from Brussels, staying long enough to receive praise from the Supreme Leader and from the previous president. The Minister of Intelligence, although not on the shortlist to be informed of her allegiance, was waiting to see the president when she emerged from his office, and so Ghassem was forced to brief him. At his request, she had also met the head of the Republican Guard. Had any of these people confided in their second in command, their family, their wives, their mistresses?

Ghassem had told her long ago she could return home at any time, that they could have a good life in Tehran. His first wife had died two years before and was not around to see Karim, her son, graduate and make his own life. This fact reminded her she had not yet seen Karim since her arrival, she had spent so much time at the embassy briefing Ghassem and the ambassador on Washington’s intentions and capabilities concerning the entire Middle East.

Entering her apartment, she removed her coat and shoes, laid her pocketbook on the sofa, and went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. A few minutes later, she took the tea to the sofa, sat and put her feet up on the coffee table, and leaned back. A moment later, she put her cup down, opened the pocketbook, and took out Ghassem’s gift, extracting the clip and running her fingertips over the nickel handle. Such a handsome and deadly gift. She had never fired a gun; would she be able to use it? In what circumstances? She had accepted it only because Ghassem had insisted. But why now? Was she in danger?

Her debriefings at the embassy had been intense and generated voluminous reporting to Tehran.