derogatories, especially on the guy from the air force, because if there’s not he might be worth going after, but also just on g.p.’s it might not be a bad idea to let our friends back in Virginia know that we put in a dishonest day’s work for our honest day’s pay.”
“Okay, okay. I get the message,” said Troy. “You can use the IBM in Rushmore’s office. Don’t take your time. I’m gonna have to stay and baby-sit you two, starting with opening Rushmore’s safe and getting you the typewriter ribbon, and sometime tonight I wanna get home to dinner.”
“Ah, about that hand grenade?” said Gus.
“A dud,” said Troy. “No way it could explode. Just a message. The window’s fixed, and tomorrow we ought to be able to get some plates put in up there.”
Just a message, thought Frank. Like the shots that got my headlights in Beirut. And it’s only the beginning. He could sense more trouble coming. From the streets. From the Shah. Perhaps from Lermontov. And, for sure, from Rocky.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I’m going to need help with cables,” said Frank. “I’ve only worked inside once, but right now I’ve forgotten most of what I learned. And I don’t even know the cryptonym for Iran.”
“SD,” said Gus. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll be your secretary. Immediate Flash, NOFORN?”
“Why Immediate Flash?” said Frank. “This stuff isn’t that important.”
“That’s why,” said Gus. “Immediate Flash makes it sound important. We don’t want anybody in Langley to get the idea this is some bullshit assignment.”
“Okay,” said Frank. He shrugged. Maybe someday I’ll get to understand bureaucrats. Immediate Flash meant the highest transmission priority. The cable would be in Langley within seconds of being sent from the embassy. He had to struggle a moment for NOFORN. No Foreign Distribution. Which meant only American clients of the agency would see it.
Gus popped in one of the ribbons Troy had given them and placed a typeface ball in the IBM Selectric typewriter. “We’re KUSTAFF,” said Gus as he banged out a request for any available backgrounds on their Jayface counterparts. “Peregrine, that’s you, right?”
“How’d you know my cryp?” Frank had not learned his own cryptonym until he first worked inside a station in Lusaka.
“Hey, I’ve read some traffic on you over these many years. You’ve been Peregrine ever since Ethiopia.”
It bothered Frank to learn that he’d carried the same cryptonym ever since his first assignment in Ethiopia. It also bothered him that he’d become so fascinated with the falcon some anonymous code clerk had named him for.
Gus muttered as he typed. Traces and any derogatories requested on:
a. SDHERALD-1 two-star general; attaché ODYOKE early 1960s, four years RI late 1960s.
All the jargon he’d learned of rubrics and parameters began pouring back into Frank’s memory as he watched Gus work the bureaucratic formulas. Frank guessed SDHERALD meant the Iranian Army. General Merid had told them he’d been a military attaché in Washington, which would account for ODYOKE, and he remembered RI from his own days in Rome.
b. SDHERALD-2 major, attached palace, nephew SDHERALD-1.
c. SDWAVE-1 captain.
d. SDTRIB-1 major, trained Reese AFB du.
e. SDELECT-1 col., contact with SDEAGLE-1.
Gus pulled the cable from the typewriter and gave it to Frank to read while he switched ribbons. TRIB with its reference to Reese had to be the air force; WAVE, no problem, the navy; ELECT must be the missing chicken colonel from the Imperial Bodyguard. EAGLE, he knew stood for Savak. He remembered “du” as date unknown.
The second cable matched names with the limited descriptions given in the first. The communications room at the embassy would encrypt and send the two cables at staggered times, minimizing the risk that, even if they were decoded, an interceptor could match up content with names.
a. Dariush Merid
b. Hossein Nazih
c. Munair Irfani
d. Anwar
“Okay, okay. I get the message,” said Troy. “You can use the IBM in Rushmore’s office. Don’t take your time. I’m gonna have to stay and baby-sit you two, starting with opening Rushmore’s safe and getting you the typewriter ribbon, and sometime tonight I wanna get home to dinner.”
“Ah, about that hand grenade?” said Gus.
“A dud,” said Troy. “No way it could explode. Just a message. The window’s fixed, and tomorrow we ought to be able to get some plates put in up there.”
Just a message, thought Frank. Like the shots that got my headlights in Beirut. And it’s only the beginning. He could sense more trouble coming. From the streets. From the Shah. Perhaps from Lermontov. And, for sure, from Rocky.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I’m going to need help with cables,” said Frank. “I’ve only worked inside once, but right now I’ve forgotten most of what I learned. And I don’t even know the cryptonym for Iran.”
“SD,” said Gus. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll be your secretary. Immediate Flash, NOFORN?”
“Why Immediate Flash?” said Frank. “This stuff isn’t that important.”
“That’s why,” said Gus. “Immediate Flash makes it sound important. We don’t want anybody in Langley to get the idea this is some bullshit assignment.”
“Okay,” said Frank. He shrugged. Maybe someday I’ll get to understand bureaucrats. Immediate Flash meant the highest transmission priority. The cable would be in Langley within seconds of being sent from the embassy. He had to struggle a moment for NOFORN. No Foreign Distribution. Which meant only American clients of the agency would see it.
Gus popped in one of the ribbons Troy had given them and placed a typeface ball in the IBM Selectric typewriter. “We’re KUSTAFF,” said Gus as he banged out a request for any available backgrounds on their Jayface counterparts. “Peregrine, that’s you, right?”
“How’d you know my cryp?” Frank had not learned his own cryptonym until he first worked inside a station in Lusaka.
“Hey, I’ve read some traffic on you over these many years. You’ve been Peregrine ever since Ethiopia.”
It bothered Frank to learn that he’d carried the same cryptonym ever since his first assignment in Ethiopia. It also bothered him that he’d become so fascinated with the falcon some anonymous code clerk had named him for.
Gus muttered as he typed. Traces and any derogatories requested on:
a. SDHERALD-1 two-star general; attaché ODYOKE early 1960s, four years RI late 1960s.
All the jargon he’d learned of rubrics and parameters began pouring back into Frank’s memory as he watched Gus work the bureaucratic formulas. Frank guessed SDHERALD meant the Iranian Army. General Merid had told them he’d been a military attaché in Washington, which would account for ODYOKE, and he remembered RI from his own days in Rome.
b. SDHERALD-2 major, attached palace, nephew SDHERALD-1.
c. SDWAVE-1 captain.
d. SDTRIB-1 major, trained Reese AFB du.
e. SDELECT-1 col., contact with SDEAGLE-1.
Gus pulled the cable from the typewriter and gave it to Frank to read while he switched ribbons. TRIB with its reference to Reese had to be the air force; WAVE, no problem, the navy; ELECT must be the missing chicken colonel from the Imperial Bodyguard. EAGLE, he knew stood for Savak. He remembered “du” as date unknown.
The second cable matched names with the limited descriptions given in the first. The communications room at the embassy would encrypt and send the two cables at staggered times, minimizing the risk that, even if they were decoded, an interceptor could match up content with names.
a. Dariush Merid
b. Hossein Nazih
c. Munair Irfani
d. Anwar
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