Brian Haig - Man in the middle

This annoyed him and he reminded me, "I have a gun and you do not. A man in my position has no need to lie."

"You know what? You're right. Boy, I'm glad we've cleared the air, and… well… I'm sure you're very busy." I stood and got about two steps toward the door.

"Sit! Or I shoot."

"A bullet in my back won't help your self-defense claim," I informed him. I did not like the tone in his voice, and I did stop walking.

"The real issue, Colonel, is what a hole in the back of your head will do for your health."

Good point. I turned around and sat. He waved his pistol. "I do not think the Army sent you here. Who do you work for?"

I decided to tell him the truth. "The CIA." I think he had already put this together, though, because he did not appear surprised or shocked. I told him, "So, this is great. I know you work for Iran, and now you know who I work for." I smiled at him. "Naked men tell no lies, right?"

He asked, "But you are in the Army also? This uniform is real?"

"Yes."

He waved his weapon at my shoulder and said, "You have a combat patch. This means you have been in battle, yes?"

I nodded.

"Have you killed for your country?"

I did not respond.

"How many have you killed?"

"I didn't count."

"This means you lost count. Am I correct?"

I didn't like his questions and said, "What's your point?"

"Do you consider yourself a patriot?"

"I'm a soldier."

"And you have killed for your country-for your people." He looked at me thoughtfully, and asked, "Do you know how many Shiites Saddam Hussein murdered?"

"A lot."

"Is a million a lot? How about two million?" he asked in a mocking tone. "Murdered, Colonel-poison gas, bullets in the back of the head, torture, rape, starvation. Men, women, children, the aged-nobody was given mercy. And I do not even include in this number the four hundred thousand Shia who were forced to fight and die in Saddam's idiotic wars with Iran and America."

"I read the newspapers."

"When so many Jews died at the hands of Nazis, the whole world condemned this. It even was given a name-the Holocaust-as if mass extermination pertains only to Jews. Why does the mass murder of my people not have a name?"

"The murder of your people was a tragedy. And you know we did our best to end it, with food and medical programs, and no-fly zones over southern Iraq to keep Saddam from using his aircraft to slaughter Shiites."

"Your best? I think not. Did the murders ever stop? You knew they did not. In the most merciful years, it was only tens of thousands."

"It was not our fight."

He had made his point, he knew it, and he returned to his smaller point, saying, "So you have killed for your country. Would you also lie for your country? Surely a liar has less need for shame than a killer."

"Killing in defense of your country is no sin."

He relaxed back into his chair and gave me a little smile, or a nasty smirk-his lips were fat and it was hard to tell. He said, "Neither, I think, is lying to save your own people a sin. Taqiyya… are you familiar with this Arab word? This concept?"

"In fact, I think I ordered some yesterday. Means burnt goat meat, right?"

He ignored my sarcasm and explained, "It is a Shia concept. It sanctions lying in defense of our poor, persecuted faith. If I perhaps passed on some untruths to your government, if, before this war, I perhaps exaggerated a few claims, I have no qualms or regret for this."

"When you lie at the behest of your Iranian bosses, and to further your own rise to power, that doesn't make you noble, Mr. Charabi. It makes you a liar and a cheat."

A surprised pout creased his face. "My bosses? Surely, you do not believe I work for Iran?"

I looked at him a long time, then told him a few things he already knew. "You've met with Iranian intelligence, you passed vital intelligence to Iran, and I have no doubt that if we dig deep enough, we'll find you're also implicated in shipping Iranian weapons and agents into Iraq." I told him, "If we dig deeper still, I suspect we'll also find that you were talking to the Iranians long before the war."

"Look all you want."

"Thanks for your permission."

"In fact," he said, smiling, "I will save you some trouble. Yes, you are right." He stopped smiling. "Well, you are partly right. I have been talking to… certain friends in Iran. And yes, since long before your invasion. And yes, now I am helping them expand their influence among my Shia people inside Iraq. And do you know why?"

"Because you would pimp your own mother for a throne?"

He chose not to respond to this.

So I took another stab. "Because they want their hands around the nuts of whoever's running Iraq, and you've volunteered your balls?" I looked him in the eye and asked, "Yes? No? Am I warm?"

He knew I was trying to piss him off, and his eyes narrowed. He was shrewd, though, and to piss me off, he did not rise to the bait. He gave me a cool gaze and answered himself. He said, "Because it helps me… and it helps my people. And because those who I now find myself vying with for leadership of the Iraqi Shia, and for leadership of Iraq-the clerics Sistani, Sadr, and others-they have their own long relationships with the Iranians."

He paused and looked at me.

He said, "Like your government in Washington, Tehran also has many views, many factions. Not everybody there is happy with Sistani, or with Sadr. So I give this gift of great intelligence significance to certain friends in Iran's government, they pass this along to the appropriate people, and now-wallah!" — his chubby hands flew through the air and he performed a silly pantomime of pulling a rabbit out of a hat-"Mahmoud Charabi has his own very powerful supporters in Tehran-and here, in Iraq."

Amazing. Basically, he had found Iranian doppelgangers of Cliff Daniels, and just as he had exploited Daniels, he now was using these "friends" to make deeper inroads inside Iran's government. Then again, maybe it wasn't so amazing. Every con man has his favorite swindle and the conviction that what works once, can work again and again. I should tell his new Iranian friends how well it had worked out for Cliff.

In that light, I said, "When you play so many sides against the middle, sometimes you forget where the middle is."

He interpreted this literally and replied, "Washington is seven thousand miles away. Iran is next door." He got a sort of thin smile on his lips and added, "In the long run it will make no considerable difference. Do you know why?"

"I have the feeling you're going to tell me why."

"Because it is entirely irrelevant. Frankly, the Iranians have as little control over me as you, as America. I am Iraqi, Colonel. I do not even like the Iranians."

"That's not a good enough why, Charabi. Tell me more."

"Because what I have is fear of the Sunnis who, you might have noticed, receive considerable support from our Sunni neighbors. These people, they are savages. Murderers. For decades, they have slaughtered and crushed my people, the Shia, while they lived regally off the oil wealth that rightfully belonged to all of us. If saving my people means partnership with the Iranians… What was that priceless phrase of Churchill's? That one about Stalin? The one about sleeping with the devil…?"

"I think, Mr. Charabi, it was we who slept with the devil. And you should worry deeply about what happens when America learns about your betrayal, about what an asshole you are. We've lost many lives and spent a fortune trying to liberate your country."

"Betrayal? Ah, I think not, Colonel. I merely passed along a gift. The selection of this gift was not mine, was it? You have read these messages. You know this choice was Cliff's." Shaking his head at me, he added, "Your problem, I think, is not with Mahmoud Charabi… it is with Cliff, who, after all, is now well beyond your reach."