partners in many successful ventures. Eskander helped Lado’s bank succeed, and now Lado was rich because of it. But, there was more. It was Eskander who gave him the Iranian nuclear program secrets to pass to the Americans.
Eskander was a dedicated and observant Muslim, a loyal Iranian, an experienced international banker operating in the innermost circles of his government’s financial dealings and a clandestine member of the National Resistance Movement of Iran. His was a dangerous road, working for the overthrow of the Mullahs from within the regime, and Lado was his accomplice.
They stepped out onto a smoking balcony located just across the lobby from the boardroom where they’d been discussing a sudden change of plans for the flow of oil money back to Tehran. The regime wanted everything it could get in the next week. Something was up. Several other smokers followed them onto the balcony.
“Point to your left as if you were asking about a landmark,” Eskander whispered in Georgian. They’d been speaking Farsi all morning.
Lado pointed to his left and asked a question. They strolled to the end of the balcony, away from the others. Eskander pointed to something and spoke quietly.
“I was given an unexpected vacation, a month to return home to be with my family.”
“Reward for your work,” Lado offered.
“No. But now I know why. Don’t react when I tell you.”
Lado tensed.
“The Chechens are going to assassinate the Russian president in Tbilisi tomorrow.”
Lado gasped. Now the change of financial plans made sense. If someone succeeded in assassinating the czar the Red Army would be in Tbilisi in two days. By next week, they’d all be speaking Russian again.
“But ...”
“Don’t speak,” Eskander cautioned. “Point to your right.”
Lado pointed to his right. Eskander faked a small laugh and spoke loudly about some building in the distance as others walked by, circling the balcony while they smoked.
“It could still be a trap, a ruse to expose traitors,” Eskander whispered when the smokers had passed.
That was an old Russian trick: Fake a crisis and see who finds out on the other side, then follow up how they found out. When in doubt, imprison, torture, execute.
“But, why?” Lado asked.
“Look at a map. You will see. I am afraid for my family. This will be our only contact.”
“But, what can …”
“If it is the will of Allah to stop this, you are His tool. If it is the will of Allah, you cannot fail. Go with God.” Eskander stubbed out his cigarette and turned quickly to return to the meeting.
*****
Back in the boardroom, Lado forced himself to stare at a point behind the speaker’s head and let his eyelids droop. Though his mind was racing and his pulse pounding, he appeared to nod off. He awoke with a start, looking furtively around the room to see if he was caught sleeping. He dared not think about the consequences for Eskander and himself if this were a trap. When he saw he was ignored, he began to focus on the other bankers in the room. They asked all the right questions; they were curious about a sudden change of plans. It’s all temporary, a cash shortage, they were being told.
Lado dared not call home. He was sure they’d monitor his cellphone. The Internet was also out of the question, as the Wi-Fi in his hotel room was surely monitored. He’d attract attention if he made any attempt to change his airline reservation for the following morning. So he’d have the night to think about it, and maybe be too late to stop it – if it were real instead of a trap.
Miserable with worry and sorry that he’d ever gotten into this mess, Lado ate a simple meal alone in the hotel restaurant that night and read a Russian newspaper. Indeed, the Russian president was due to speak in Freedom Square in Tbilisi the next day. It made no sense; the Russian president was a good friend to Iran. Politically, he had been a staunch supporter. Why would they want to assassinate
Eskander was a dedicated and observant Muslim, a loyal Iranian, an experienced international banker operating in the innermost circles of his government’s financial dealings and a clandestine member of the National Resistance Movement of Iran. His was a dangerous road, working for the overthrow of the Mullahs from within the regime, and Lado was his accomplice.
They stepped out onto a smoking balcony located just across the lobby from the boardroom where they’d been discussing a sudden change of plans for the flow of oil money back to Tehran. The regime wanted everything it could get in the next week. Something was up. Several other smokers followed them onto the balcony.
“Point to your left as if you were asking about a landmark,” Eskander whispered in Georgian. They’d been speaking Farsi all morning.
Lado pointed to his left and asked a question. They strolled to the end of the balcony, away from the others. Eskander pointed to something and spoke quietly.
“I was given an unexpected vacation, a month to return home to be with my family.”
“Reward for your work,” Lado offered.
“No. But now I know why. Don’t react when I tell you.”
Lado tensed.
“The Chechens are going to assassinate the Russian president in Tbilisi tomorrow.”
Lado gasped. Now the change of financial plans made sense. If someone succeeded in assassinating the czar the Red Army would be in Tbilisi in two days. By next week, they’d all be speaking Russian again.
“But ...”
“Don’t speak,” Eskander cautioned. “Point to your right.”
Lado pointed to his right. Eskander faked a small laugh and spoke loudly about some building in the distance as others walked by, circling the balcony while they smoked.
“It could still be a trap, a ruse to expose traitors,” Eskander whispered when the smokers had passed.
That was an old Russian trick: Fake a crisis and see who finds out on the other side, then follow up how they found out. When in doubt, imprison, torture, execute.
“But, why?” Lado asked.
“Look at a map. You will see. I am afraid for my family. This will be our only contact.”
“But, what can …”
“If it is the will of Allah to stop this, you are His tool. If it is the will of Allah, you cannot fail. Go with God.” Eskander stubbed out his cigarette and turned quickly to return to the meeting.
*****
Back in the boardroom, Lado forced himself to stare at a point behind the speaker’s head and let his eyelids droop. Though his mind was racing and his pulse pounding, he appeared to nod off. He awoke with a start, looking furtively around the room to see if he was caught sleeping. He dared not think about the consequences for Eskander and himself if this were a trap. When he saw he was ignored, he began to focus on the other bankers in the room. They asked all the right questions; they were curious about a sudden change of plans. It’s all temporary, a cash shortage, they were being told.
Lado dared not call home. He was sure they’d monitor his cellphone. The Internet was also out of the question, as the Wi-Fi in his hotel room was surely monitored. He’d attract attention if he made any attempt to change his airline reservation for the following morning. So he’d have the night to think about it, and maybe be too late to stop it – if it were real instead of a trap.
Miserable with worry and sorry that he’d ever gotten into this mess, Lado ate a simple meal alone in the hotel restaurant that night and read a Russian newspaper. Indeed, the Russian president was due to speak in Freedom Square in Tbilisi the next day. It made no sense; the Russian president was a good friend to Iran. Politically, he had been a staunch supporter. Why would they want to assassinate
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