Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

3. The Qods Force Head of Western Directorate has been given authority to choose the location and victims of the attack. He has ensured that no information relating to his plans is released to any other individuals within the IRGC. It is therefore assessed that only the Qods Force Head of Western Directorate has details of the location and timing of the attack.

COMMENT

1. The Qods Force Head of Western Directorate is Iran’s most active intelligence-operations officer. He holds the rank of general. While he nominally reports to the Head of Qods Force, it is known that in practice the Head of Western Directorate receives his orders directly from the Supreme Leader of Iran.

2. The Head of Western Directorate’s name is kept secret from all other members of the Qods Force and IRGC. While separate NSA reporting provides some details on the man, his identity remains unknown [NSA/SIGINT/8861/09 refers].

3. It is assessed that, due to the Head of Western Directorate’s command of this operation, the planned attack must have significant strategic importance to Iran. It is therefore further assessed that the attack will be on a very large scale.

SOURCE

1. The source of this report is HUBBLE. This report is therefore assessed to be highly reliable.

2. Any enquiries relating to HUBBLE must be directed to this report’s distributing department.

Will placed the report on the table. “I presume that Hubble is a technical attack against certain Iranian communications systems?”

Patrick held up a hand. “I’ve just broken a thousand NSA security protocols by showing you this unsanitized report, and NSA could try to put me in prison for doing just that. Heaven only knows what would happen if I told you about Hubble itself.”

Will tapped a finger on the document. “I understand, but I need to hear what you think about this report. Do you assess Hubble reporting to be accurate?”

Patrick leaned forward, took the report away from Will, and placed it within a file. “Hubble reporting is pure gold. There is no doubt that this report is accurate.” He looked down at the paper and frowned slightly.

“But?”

Patrick picked up another paper. “We’ll come back to the ‘but.’ ” He went quiet for a moment, reading the contents of the new paper. “We know next to nothing about our man. The little that we do know about him has come from a variety of our Iranian sources, although by those agents’ own admission much of that is hearsay, because it seems that the Head of Western Directorate is deliberately shrouded in secrecy. However, for what it’s worth, the hearsay is consistent with the following: He’s been groomed for great things within Iran’s regime since young adulthood, he has a brilliant mind, he excels at intelligence work, he is revered within not only the IRGC but also the Ministry of Intelligence and Security, and he’s a loner who has no family or friends.”

“Because he has no need for them. He lives to please his masters.”

Patrick angled his head a little. “Well, that’s the odd thing. The rumors are also consistent in saying that the man has no religious beliefs, no loyalty to the Iranian regime, no personal political agendas or persuasions.” Patrick set the new paper down on the table. “He’s tolerated by the Iranian leadership because he’s so good at what he does. And he tolerates them because they allow him to do what he does best. But he serves no one.”

Will nodded. “He sounds like my kind of person.”

Patrick looked stern. “For all his brilliance, he’s a murderer.” He flicked a finger against the report. “We rarely ever see his hand-he’s too astute for that to happen-but I can confidently say that he’s had involvement in every major terrorist action against the West during the last five years, as well as numerous actions against Arab and South Asian countries.”

“Impossible.”

“If I were in your position, I’d probably draw the same conclusion. But I’m not in your position, I’m in my position. And I know that not one major terror act against Western or Western-allied targets can take place without his implicit or explicit authorization. Even groups that are the sworn enemy of the regime of Iran find themselves working for him, usually without knowing they’re doing so. We can’t name him Public Enemy Number One, as to do so would declare our intentions toward him, but privately we all agree that there’s no other man on this planet we would rather see dead or behind bars.” Patrick nodded. “He’s the mastermind. My position allows me to know this.”

Will observed Patrick for a while before speaking slowly. “What is your position within the CIA?”

Patrick stared out over Will’s head. “I have no rank, title, or designation. I work for no definable office or department. I have no specific remit or function.” He smiled a little. “Even my budget is vague.” He looked back at Will. “Alistair told you about Bandar-e ’Abbsa?”

Will felt an immediate sense of unease. Since his departure from Simpson’s the previous day, he’d thought about little else. “He did.”

“How does that make you feel?”

Will rubbed a hand against his face and said quietly, “I have very few memories of my father, because I was just a young boy when he was taken from me. But I have many memories of what happened afterward.” He shook his head slowly and cast his eyes down. “My mother struggling alone with me and my sister, trying her best and giving us more than she had until she was-” He looked up and spoke with stronger and more deliberate words. “Everything changed after my father died. And to know that his death was not a tragic accident but rather intentional and premeditated makes everything that happened even more abhorrent and unnecessary.”

Patrick said sharply, “It was completely unnecessary. After we escaped and subsequently learned that your father had been brutally killed, Alistair and I felt enormous guilt. We told ourselves that your father was right to tell us to run. We told ourselves that if we, too, had been captured, then the impending revolutionary regime would have achieved a potentially catastrophic victory against Western intelligence capabilities in their region.” He frowned. “We told ourselves lots of things. But none of those things could negate the guilt we both lived with. So we decided that from within our respective organizations we would do everything we could to track down and ruin the lives of anyone involved in that trap on the Bandar-e ’Abbas road.

“Our task had become a vendetta, and over seven years Alistair and I abused our positions within the CIA and MI6 to seek our revenge. It worked, and by the end of our vendetta we had punished nearly everyone involved in your father’s death, punishments meted out by my hand and by Alistair’s.”

“Nearly everyone?”

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “The person we wanted the most was the young man who had clearly planned the whole thing, the man who had approached us at the embassy. We never got him. But we did not fail with his associates.

“And even though our successes were driven by vengeance, both Alistair and I produced significant results, which came to the attention of our bosses in Langley and London.” Patrick nodded once. “We were promoted rapidly, although in slightly different ways. Alistair was fast-tracked to the Controller position he now holds, and no doubt he will soon be Chief of MI6. I on the other hand was promoted toward the position I now hold, a position that is in equal measure powerful and invisible. The former is good. The latter means I will never be able to take the post as head of the Agency.”

Patrick shrugged. “What’s my position in the CIA? I can’t give you a clear answer. But I can say I’m used on extreme matters.” He gestured in a way that seemed to take in more than just the single room they occupied. “And I can also say that I answer to nobody in this building.”