Chapter Fifteen: The Persian Letter

From the air, Teheran looked like any other city in the Middle East. A few scattered minarets poking through the purple dust, a few large buildings, and a sprawl of mud houses fanning out in all directions. Looking down on the capital of Iran, Kim Roosevelt wondered, Is this where the future of the Western world's oil is going to be decided? To him, Teheran meant dust, open sewers running beside the narrow streets, noisy bazaars, and frustrating traffic jams.

The Pan American plane taxied to a halt on the tarmac. A black Cadillac with an American flag was waiting on the tarmac. While the other passengers walked to the Iranian passport control office, Roosevelt got into the Cadillac that Steer had sent for him. A gate opened, no passport, no visa, no customs for Kim Roosevelt.

The Embassy Cadillac took him directly to the Park Hotel. He carried only an attache case. He did not plan to stay long, he never did. He proceeded to a suite on the sixth floor. Inside, a short, solidly built man in his late fifties was pacing back and forth.

"Terribly sorry to keep you waiting, Norm." Roosevelt said, extending his hand to Norman Schwartzkopf.

Schwartzkopf stopped pacing. He looked Roosevelt squarely in the face without speaking. He had learned how to use silence to elicit information in his career as a police detective. Twenty years earlier, as a captain in the New Jersey State Police, he had handled the search for the kidnappers of Charles Lindbergh's child. He became the most famous policeman in the world for almost a decade. When Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, he worked the OSS as its liaison with the military police agencies. That was where he had first met Kim.

After the war ended, Kim had expressed concern to him that the new Shah, then only 25 years old, needed protection from potential assassins. Kim asked if he would he be interested in organizing the Shah's security. He wanted to escape the tedium of New Jersey, where he had been too much of a celebrity from the Lindbergh case to do any real police work. He answered affirmatively. One week later the Shah offered him the job of training the Iranian Imperial Gendarmerie. He spent three years in Iran building the Shah's private police, which he called jokingly the "Imperial Lifeguards." He then returned to New Jersey, and tried, without much success, to enjoy retirement.

Then Kim called. He told him that Boy Scout their old codename for the Shah was in trouble. Could he provide him with introductions to his "old friends" in Teheran? The "old friends" Kim wanted to meet were now running Iran's internal security apparatus, the Savak. He again said yes. An air ticket arrived by messenger an hour later. And he returned to Teheran for what he described at passport control as a "social visit."

"How's young Norm. Still up for the Point?" Roosevelt asked. He had used his family connections to make sure that Schwartzkopf's son would have a place at West Point. He wanted Schwartzkopf to be in his debt.

"Little Norm is a real ball-breaker." Schwartzkopf replied,. He took great pride in his son, but he didn't like small talk. He was in Teheran for a purpose. He got to the business at hand, "It's going to take some time to renew old acquaintances. The phones here don't work half the time..."

"Boy Scout does not have a great deal of time," Roosevelt interrupted. Ajax had to be carried in five months.

"I hope you have time for a mountain barbecue. I've arranged a jeep."

It took nearly two hours of weaving through donkey carts to get to the village of Sultana. Towering over the tiny mud houses were the ruins of a Safavid fort. The driver pulled the jeep up in front of the ruin. About a dozen men were milling about the entrance, all wore sun glasses and carried Thompson sub-machine guns.

They were there, as Schwartzkopf had explained in his briefing to protect General Fazlollah Zahedi. Mossadeq has put a 100,000 Rial price on Zahedi's head. "He wants him alive in prison or dead anywhere." "And we want him in Teheran," Roosevelt said. He had plans for General Zahedi. The CIA had assessed that Zahedi was the most respected officer in Iran's military. He had also been an outspoken foe of Mossadeq. But his greatest advantage, as far as Roosevelt was concerned, was that he was dependably anti- British. Ten years earlier, a British commando team had unceremoniously kidnapped him from a nightclub in Isfahan. The British, acting on bad intelligence, had a tip Zahedi had made contact with a German agent. When the tip proved baseless, he was released, but he had never forgiven the British for humiliating him. His well- known hatred for the British made him invaluable to the Ajax's scenario. If they could keep him safe for the next five months, he would be designated as the Prime Minister on Move 15.

Roosevelt followed Schwartzkopf down a narrow path, under the remains of a Safavid arch, and into a courtyard lit by torchlight. In the center was a huge pit lined with white-hot stones. Off the end of another half-collapsed arch that looked like a giant question mark against the moonlit sky hung about a dozen baby goats of varying sizes. Yellow flames were leaping high in the air as the fat dripped onto the sizzling stones

Zahedi, dressed in a black business suit, was eating at an oddly incongruent picnic table. He was a thin man with decisive hawk-like nose and flickering eyes. He embraced Schwartzkopf with both arms. He had known him when he trained the Shah's security force. He liked his silent tenacity. He found Americans, unlike the British, did what they promised. At least, Schwartzkopf did. "Norm, it is kind of you to pay us a visit and bring with you such an illustrious American."

"I've looked forwarded to meeting you, General," Roosevelt said, clenching his hand in his iron grip. "Ardeshir had told me about the problem you are dealing with." Name-dropping was stand operating procedure with Roosevelt. Ardeshir was the General's only son, who was living in Switzerland.

"It is my pleasure, Mr. Roosevelt...: "Kim" "Ardeshir has told me that you are a great friend of Iran." Ardeshir had agreed to serve as a conduit between his father and the Americans. Zahedi knew that the "problem" Roosevelt referred to was Mossadeq.

Servants filled the plates with freshly-cooked kid and mounds of spiced rice. They averted their eyes from the faces of the guests, as they had been trained to do.

Roosevelt ate with his hands "native dining." Schwartzkopf used the silverware.

"You are in danger, General," Roosevelt said. "Mossadeq sees you as the only obstacle that prevents him from taking total control of the Iranian army."

"That is why I am staying in Iran. I am protected in the mountains." Zahedi stood up and signaled. Armed men appeared out of the shadows, lining the walls of the ruin. He had his own private army. "If Mossadeq has an arrest warrant for me. Let him try and serve it."

Roosevelt knew that Zahedi's army, though not large, was highly disciplined. "Mossadeq is not foolish enough to send his troops after you, General. If they left Teheran, who would protect him and his friends in Parliament?" "So it is a standoff," Zahedi said. "Temporarily. But that will change. The most important part of our job America's job is to keep you out of harm's way for the next few months," Roosevelt said.

Zahedi had hoped that the Americans would move sooner. He shook his head. "Much can happen in a few months.. Sooner would be better.". "We got to stick to the game plan. It has been well worked out."

Schwartzkopf cut his meat while he listened to Kim. He knew Kim's last plan, installing a fake holy man in Iraq, had failed miserably. Was the Ajax scenario any better conceived? He had his doubts about unanticipated consequences.

"Norm will stick around a while," Roosevelt told Zahedi. Schwartzkopf knew what was expected of him. He would organize his contacts in the Savak for Roosevelt. They would penetrate Mossadeq's security apparatus, allowing him, if all went well, to keep one step ahead of Mossadeq.

Roosevelt ripped off another piece of kid and chewed it. "Superb. Better than anything you'd ever find in Paris." He raised his glass, "To the Shah" and got up to leave, then stopped. "Almost forget," he said, taking an envelope from his pocket and handing it to Zahedi. "A small cadeau, General, A Persian letter."

Roosevelt intended the gift to show his good faith and power. It had been compiled by the CIA from radio communication intercepted directly from Mossadeq's party headquarters.

Zahedi removed the dossier from the envelope. His eyes widened as he read the names of a dozen agents that Mossadeq's men had bribed, compromised or otherwise recruited in Zahedi's camp. With this list, Zahedi realized he could deal with his enemies. Mossadeq's agents, one by one, would disappear, or even better serve his purpose.

"If there is anything you need, General and I mean anything ask Norm. I have to get back to Washington."