Siro by David Ignatius (short books to read txt) 📕

“He sounds like a dreadful person.”

“Perhaps, but in our game, he’s your man.”

13

Anna’s first thought when she saw Ali Ascari enter the restaurant was: What an ugly little man! He was short and stocky, with a big nose and bulging eyes that darted back and forth as he scanned the room. And he was very hairy—covered with hair, in fact—from his bristly black beard to the backs of his hirsute hands. It was a relief in some ways that he was so ugly. Anna had been half afraid that he would be a suave Omar Sharif type with bedroom eyes.

Ascari approached the quiet corner table where Anna and SDFIBBER were sitting. He gave SDFIBBER a big hello, kissed him on both cheeks, and then turned to Anna. He was wobbling his head slightly and rustling his bottom like a preening pigeon. SDFIBBER made the introduction, using false names, according to instructions.

“This is my friend who I mentioned to you on the phone, Allison James. She’s a banker.”

“Hello, miss,” said Ascari.

“How do you do,” said Anna, extending her hand. Ascari’s eyes, she noticed, were no longer meeting hers. He was looking at her chest. She moved her purse under her arm to partially block his view.

“Mr. Farduz tells me you are interested in Iran,” said Ascari as he sat down next to Anna on the banquette, head still wobbling slightly.

“Yes,” said Anna. “Very interested. We represent several large clients who have substantial interests in the Middle East. We’re looking for new business. Economic development. Especially now, with oil prices rising and development plans likely to change.”

“Um-hum,” said Ascari, taking out his worry beads. He didn’t seem to be listening.

“And loans,” Anna continued. “Some of our clients are commercial banks.”

“That’s nice,” said Ascari. “Mr. Farduz didn’t tell me you were so pretty.”

“Thank you,” said Anna courteously.

Ascari turned to SDFIBBER and rattled off something in Farsi. Anna strained to listen to the conversation and, as she caught the drift of it, her temperature rose.

“Look at that ass!” said Ascari.

“And those long legs,” said SDFIBBER.

Anna bit her tongue.

“Her breasts are nice,” continued Ascari. “Not too big, but nice.”

That’s enough, thought Anna. She cleared her throat and spoke carefully, in Farsi.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, “but be careful what you say. You wouldn’t want to insult a lady.”

There was a great commotion of embarrassment and apologies, mostly from SDFIBBER, who looked worried that Anna might do something to cut his retainer. They ordered drinks. Ascari, despite his mullah’s beard, requested a gin and tonic. SDFIBBER tried to be charming. He passed along the latest gossip about the Shah. The Empress Farah, it seemed, wasn’t liking exile in Morocco. She wanted to move on, to the United States. And the Shah’s sister, the harlot! She was in Paris, entertaining all comers and spending money by the barrel. He went on like this for nearly thirty minutes of singsong chitchat. Ascari mostly stared at Anna and played with his worry beads.

Eventually SDFIBBER looked at his watch.

“What a nuisance!” he said. “I am sorry, but I must go.”

“No,” said Anna firmly. “You should stay.”

“I am sorry,” said SDFIBBER. “But truly I must go. I have an appointment. Why don’t you two stay and talk. About Iran.”

“Can’t your appointment wait?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Perhaps I should go, too,” said Anna, looking at her watch, trying to think what proper tradecraft would dictate. What would an investment banker eager for business with Iran do? Stay, of course. But what would the same investment banker do if the client was ogling her tits? She rose from her chair.

“Stay,” said SDFIBBER.

“Please stay,” said Ascari. “There are some things I would like to tell you. About Iran.” He looked serious. His head wasn’t wobbling.

Anna slid slowly back into the chair.

“Good!” said SDFIBBER. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk, then. Goodbye!” He shook hands with Anna, kissed Ascari three times, and headed for the door. Watching him leave, Anna made a mental note to do what she could to make life miserable for SDFIBBER.

When they were alone, Ascari turned to Anna with a look of great seriousness. He spoke in the nasally voice that Iranians seem to have in any language.

“Are you from CIA, lady?”

Anna sat up straight in her chair. Careful now. Nice and natural.

“No,” she said. “I told you. I’m an investment banker. We’re interested in doing business with Iran.”

“You are not from CIA?”

“No.” She had recovered her balance enough to try a little laugh. “How silly. What makes you think that?”

“You are not from CIA.” He said it this time as a statement of fact.

“No,” she repeated.

“That is big disappointment for me,” he said. “Very big.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to contact CIA. I have important things to tell them about Iran. I have been trying for three weeks, ever since Shah leave. I call embassy. I leave messages. No answer. So I thought maybe they send you.”

He did look very disappointed. He was frowning and popping his worry beads back and forth on their string. Anna thought a moment. She couldn’t remember anything in training that covered this situation. In fact, she couldn’t remember anything in training that would apply to any aspect of this encounter. One thing did seem obvious, however. The goal in meeting Ascari was to find out what he had to say.

“Mr. Ascari …” said Anna, pausing.

“Yes, lady,” he answered glumly.

“I do know a few people at the embassy. Would that help? Maybe I could pass your information along to them.”

“You know embassy people?”

Anna nodded. “Yes. A few people. They’re social friends.”

“And these people, are they CIA?”

“I don’t know,” said Anna. “But it’s all the same thing in the embassy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, maybe so. Okay. Let’s talk.” As he said this, Ascari smiled and put his hand on Anna’s knee. She pushed it away but said nothing, pretending it hadn’t happened.

“Okay, miss,” he said. “We talk about Iran. Then you tell your friends in embassy. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I