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

number. She would drop the case—walk out the door of the restaurant, call Howard from a pay phone, and tell him to get someone new. She was brushing her hair when she remembered Ascari’s “big surprise.” He had said he had a big surprise for the embassy. What the hell was that about? She probably should find out. At least ask the question. That would be her last contact with Ascari, absolutely the last word. Then she would leave. Anna finished brushing her hair, took a long look at herself in the mirror, and returned to the table.

Ascari was sitting contentedly when she emerged, smiling and drinking a whiskey. He looked slightly sheepish, if it was possible for a pig to look sheepish.

“Don’t ever do that again,” said Anna. “Do you hear me?”

Ascari nodded. There was a long silence, broken by the Iranian. “I am sorry that I treat you like a prostitute,” he said. “You are not a prostitute. You are CIA lady.”

“I told you where I work,” said Anna evenly.

“Of course you are CIA lady!” said Ascari again. “I am not so stupid.”

Anna didn’t answer. Let the little prick think whatever he wants, she thought.

“You should have told me. Then I would not be so sure that you want to go to bed with me.”

“Drop it,” said Anna. “What is your big surprise?”

“Ah! My surprise. Okay, CIA lady. Listen very careful, because this is big stuff. Big stuff.”

“I’m listening.” Finish your business, she told herself, and get out of here.

“Khomeini men hate America,” began Ascari. “You know that? America put in Shah. America made Iran its little whore, dress it up like cheap woman. So Khomeini men hate America.”

“Yes. I know that. I know they hate America.”

“They have plan for revenge. Next year is American presidential election, right?”

Anna nodded.

“So Khomeini men planning to kill presidential candidates.”

“What?”

“You heard right. Kill. Boom! Bang-bang.”

“Which ones?”

“The President, all the other candidates. And people who work for them.”

“Say that again,” said Anna. Her head felt as if it were spinning.

“What I said. Khomeini men have plan to kill all presidential candidates next year, and other big people.”

“Where? At the conventions?”

“I don’t know. Yeah, maybe at conventions.”

“How do you know this?”

“That’s all I tell you now. For the rest, you pay money.”

“Who is involved? Do you have any names?”

“Hey! I told you. No more unless you pay money. You tell friends at American embassy. No more bullshit.”

“How can they reach you?”

“Same number I gave you. Except I am going away on business trip tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“Turkey.”

“Where will you be staying?”

“In Istanbul. At Hilton, of course. Best hotel.”

“What passport?”

“Iranian. I save others for tricky business.”

“When will you be back?”

“A week. Two weeks. I don’t know.”

“Thanks for the information,” said Anna. “But you’re still a skunk.” She rose from her chair.

“Hey, wait, lady!” said Ascari.

“Let’s skip lunch, shall we?” said Anna, heading for the door. She had never been more happy to end an engagement in her life.

“Dynamite!” said Howard several hours later when he finished debriefing Anna. This time she gave him a thorough summary of the meeting. She omitted nothing, narrating every loathsome gesture, every filthy insinuation, every demand for money, every nasty assertion that she worked for the agency. It was all supposed to lead up to her demand that she be taken off the case. But she never quite got there. Howard was too excited about the assassination plot.

Anna tried to slow him down. “He’s blown my cover,” she said. “He knows I work for the agency.”

“Naaa,” said Howard. “You didn’t confirm it, did you?”

“No,” said Anna. “Of course not.”

“Then don’t worry about it too much. Iranians are spook-crazy. They think everybody works for CIA, so what does it matter?”

Anna frowned. “Okay,” she said, still unconvinced.

“Did he really say that about panty hose?”

“Give me a break, Howard. I’m not in the mood.”

“Okay. Sorry. We have work to do anyway. We’ve got to get this little item moving to headquarters, pronto. Which means that you get to help prepare your very first field intelligence report.”

Howard removed a printed form from his briefcase and showed it to Anna. “You know how the grading system works?” he asked.

“Not really,” said Anna.

“Okay,” he said, going into his professor voice. “We rate every intelligence report according to two standards. The quality of the source and the reliability of the information. We grade the sources A to F. A means completely reliable. B means usually reliable. C means fairly reliable. D means not usually reliable. E means not reliable. F means reliability can’t be judged. Got it?”

“Sure.” Said Anna. “I mean, it’s not very complicated.”

Howard looked slightly disappointed. “No, not very,” he said. “We grade the content the same way, from one to six. One means confirmed by other independent and reliable sources, two means probably true, three means possibly true, four means doubtful, five means probably false, six means can’t be judged. Easy, right?”

“Easy,” said Anna. “It’s like a color scale. Except it’s mostly gray.”

“You got it. In practice, there’s no such thing as A-one. At least not in this world. Most of what we get is C-three. Possibly true information from a fairly reliable source. Middle gray, in other words.”

“My favorite color,” said Anna.

“So the question is: How do we rate your pal, Mr. Ascari?”

“Do you have a category called ‘total, complete asshole’?”

“Afraid not.”

“I’d have to call him an F-six. I don’t know if he’s reliable, and I don’t know if what he says is true.”

“I agree,” said Howard. “F-six he is.” He looked at the form. “Next item: When and where acquired. So I’ll write: London. What’s today’s date?”

“February 25,” said Anna.

Howard wrote the place and date acquired. “Now,” he said, “we need a byline.”

“A what?”

“A brief description of him for the report, right here where it says ‘source.’ ”

“I don’t know,” said Anna, thinking back to the grading exercise of a moment ago. “I guess we ought to call him ‘an Iranian source who claims links with Khomeini’s circle, whose reliability is unproven.’ ”

“Lovely,” said