Haggai Harmon - The Chameleon Conspiracy

“Why?”

“It has been compromised.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ll explain later. Just don’t go there.”

“I’m already there. I tried the door, but there was no answer.”

“Where are you now?”

“Next to the door.”

“Have you noticed anyone surveying you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Anyone see you entering the building?”

“I don’t know. The street was empty, but that means nothing.” I told him about the car I’d thought was trailing me.

“You can’t use the front door again,” he said decisively. “Go down the stairs, pass the main entry door to the building, and continue to the basement. You’ll see a big black metal door leading to the machine room. It’s unlocked. Get inside and lock it behind you with the metal bar. Walk toward the back of the basement. There’s a glass window behind the central heating burner. Climb to the window-it’s only about seven feet from the floor-and exit the basement through that window. You’ll find yourself in the backyard of the building. There’s a low fence separating the building from the back of the adjacent building, which faces a parallel street. Cross that fence, pass through the backyard of the other building, exit to the street, and take a taxi. Don’t return to your hotel. Call me when you’re in the cab for more instructions.”

I felt the adrenaline rush, just like in the old action-filled Mossad days. I went down to the basement. I had difficulty climbing up to the small window. I couldn’t climb using the boiler as a step, because its surface was too hot, and the window was right behind it. I went to the adjacent laundry room, dragged out an old wooden table used for ironing, and climbed on it. As soon as I was halfway through the window, the table collapsed under my weight. I should go on a diet again, I promised myself, struggling to make it the rest of the way out. In five minutes I was on another street. I stopped a cab and called John.

“Now, take your cab on a twenty-minute ride around Vienna. After you have established that you aren’t being followed, tell the cabby to take you to a nearby tram station. Take the tram to Stephansplatz. You will be about ten minutes from the city center. Get off and take a cab to your hotel, NH

Wien hotel at Mariahilfer Strasse 32-34. It is located on a very long shopping boulevard, at the Spittelberg area. I’ll meet you there.”

When I exited the tram I saw an empty cab approaching, but I ignored it. I waited for a few more to pass and stopped the fifth cab. Mossad Academy training. Never take a cab when the driver approaches you, and while in a street, never stop the first or second cabs that pass by you. They could be dispatched for you by the opposition. I perfected the rule and usually take only the fifth cab.

I checked into the hotel and went up to my room with John following. The room was small and decorated with light oak furniture.

“What happened?” I asked as soon as I closed my room door.

“We were riding shotgun. We placed a countersurveillance team in a building opposite the safe apartment to protect the rendezvous. They spotted suspicious activity. First a car that didn’t have any mechanical problem was made to look like it did.”

“How could they tell?”

“Simple. The driver stopped the car in the middle of the street, lifted the hood, and made himself appear as if he were fixing something. But he didn’t touch anything. His hands were clean when he went back behind the wheel, purportedly to wait for help. Ten minutes later, he just closed the hood, started the engine, and left. That happened right across from the safe apartment.”

“I saw that car too,” I said, forgetting to mention that it looked odd to me, but didn’t rise to the level of a suspicion, when it should have. “Is that all?”

“No. There was another car cruising the neighborhood repeatedly for no apparent reason. Then Benny reported he was spotted yesterday as he returned to his hotel.”

“Is he still there?”

“No. He checked out. Finally, Parviz Morad was discovered making a call from a pay phone in the men’s room of his hotel lobby.”

“Was he unattended?” I was surprised at how that could have happened.

“No. He was under Mossad’s supervision at all times, but during dinner he went to the men’s room, and the Mossad agent waited behind the outside door. When Parviz didn’t exit immediately, the agent entered and saw him on the phone. These hotels sometime install pay phones inside the bathrooms.”

“Has Parviz been doubled?”

“I don’t know. Mossad is interrogating him. I’ve just heard he swore that he only called his uncle in Hamburg, Germany. Parviz claimed the uncle was a known dissident of the Iranian government.”

“What do we do now?”

“We wait for the result of the investigation and see if these incidents are directed at us or connected to Parviz’s phone call. If he double-crossed us, we may have to conduct a thorough damage control. Anyway, you’re not returning to the Holiday Inn. I’ll go out and buy you some toiletries and overnight stuff,” he said.

“Why don’t you just send someone to remove my luggage from the Holiday Inn?”

“Because the hotel and your room are under our observation. I want to create the impression that you still live in that hotel. Maybe these guys will be stupid enough to go there and give us a better idea who they are. Anyway, I don’t think you should leave this room until we assess the situation. Order room service,” he said, reading my mind.

An hour later John returned with a shopping bag. “There’s a change of underwear here”-he handed me the bag-“and shaving cream, disposable razors, a toothbrush, a comb, and toothpaste. That’ll keep you for a few days.” I looked at the bag; the underwear was oversized and looked ridiculous.

“Thanks,” I said without sharing my thoughts on his taste in clothing.

“Let’s continue with our original plan,” suggested John. “OK.”

I sat on the bed, and John took a chair next to the small desk and dragged it to face me.

“Let me go into the political structure of Iran.”

My mind was elsewhere, trying to analyze the unexpected turn of events. But John ignored my hollow look and continued. I had to listen-I was his captive audience.

“The Islamic Republic of Iran embodies Khomeini’s doctrine of Velayat-e Faqih, or ‘Islamic Rule.’ He advocated exporting revolution to extend his absolute authority over all Muslims. Central to the concept is the doctrine that all Muslims, wherever they are, belong to the Islamic nation, the Ummah -and therefore must obey the authority of the religious leader. It’s interesting to note that his followers attempted to broaden the definition of Islam. While most, if not all, Muslims consider Islam as their religion, while they belong to different nations, the Iranian doctrine tried to classify all Muslims as members of a nation.”

“Because the Iranians aren’t Arabs, and in fact are a minority in Islam,” I said.

“Exactly,” said John. “This is their sneaky way to install themselves as leaders of a group a billion people strong, rather than limiting their grip to only seventy million Iranians. They wrote a new constitution, which gives this immense power to one person to become the head of the faqih, the ruling council. Ayatollah Khomeini was the first head of the faqih. The supreme religious leader has almost unlimited powers. He appoints the chief judges of the judicial branch; the chief of staff of the armed forces; the commander of the Pasdaran; the personal representatives of the faqih to the Supreme Defense Council; and the commanders of the army, air force, and navy.”

“Democracy is dead, long live theocracy.”