The Increment: A Novel - By David Ignatius Page 0,116
the sweet, soft color of honey in a glass jar. He asked for a breakfast of meats and cheese and rye bread, like he used to eat in Heidelberg. The German food was a special taste of freedom.
Harry walked in as the breakfast dishes were being cleared. He needed to have his talk with Karim. It was on their fragile bond that the mission rested.
“I need your help,” Harry began.
“Of course, sir. I promised you yesterday that I would help you.”
“Yes, I know, but now it’s the next day and it’s more complicated. I have a plan. It’s a very important one, not just for you and me, but I think maybe for the whole world. If you say no, I will understand.”
“Whatever it is, I am ready,” said Molavi.
Harry loved his unblinking bravery, but the Iranian didn’t know what the stakes were yet. Harry didn’t have time to sugarcoat the pill.
“It’s dangerous. You would have to go back to Iran.”
Karim looked away. That was the one thing he didn’t want to do. He turned his gaze back toward Harry.
“If I go back they will kill me. I am—what do you say?—an ‘enemy of the state’ now. I was very happy to get out. It is a great deal that you ask.”
“I know. I would not ask you unless it was important. The most important thing.”
“It is about Mashad, isn’t it?”
“You are too clever for my secrets. You’re right. It is about Mashad. It’s about sabotaging the backup equipment there, so there is nothing else left.”
Karim continued to look at Harry. He was still a young man, so innocent of the world.
“What do you think I should do? I am uncertain. What is right?”
Harry averted his gaze. That was the worst question the Iranian could ask. The hardest. But he knew the answer. A lifetime of training told him there was one button to push with this young man. His stomach hurt when he thought about what he was going to do. His head hurt. It was never enough, just to do your job. You had to pull others along with you. You had to make them do things you knew in your head and your gut they shouldn’t do. The words formed on his lips. It made it worse that he knew so intuitively how to manipulate this boy.
“What would your father tell you to do?” said Harry softly. “That is the way you should decide.”
Karim started at the words. He put his hands to his face and bowed his head. When he looked at Harry again, there was a gleam of moisture in his eyes, which he wiped away.
“My father would tell me to go back. He would say I should do my duty. He was a brave man. Always.”
Harry bit his lip. He was going to do it. He was going to make the boy walk the plank.
“Your father would be proud of you,” said Harry. His voice trembled. “He would know that you are his son.”
Harry excused himself. He said he had to go to the bathroom. He closed the door and sat down on the toilet seat and stayed there until his hands stopped shaking. He had done it again. The worst thing in the world, the thing for which there was no forgiveness, and he had done it again. They say the biggest mistakes we make in life are the ones we make with our eyes wide open—the ones where we know what we are doing, and decide to do it anyway. But if it was a mistake, he had no choice but to make it.
“How will we do it?” asked Karim. There was a sharpness in his eyes, but it was hard to say whether it was from fear or excitement.
“We can get you back in. That’s the easy part. We have made the plans. But you have to do the hard work. If we get you to Mashad, do you think you could visit your friend Reza and get inside the laboratory where you used to work?”
Karim pondered a moment. He didn’t want to answer too quickly and boldly, and then not be able to deliver.
“I think so,” he said. “I have all my passes, even the one I used before in Mashad. I brought them out. And the guards will remember me. And my friend Reza can meet me.”
“Reza won’t think that it’s strange that you’re coming to Mashad, and that you want to visit the laboratory?”