The Increment: A Novel - By David Ignatius Page 0,15

you know why I lost my position? Because I caught them stealing. That’s the reason. Otherwise I would still be a colonel and tell them what to do. They are dogs! Pedar-sag. The sons of dogs. No, they are the shit of the dogs on the bottom of my shoes!”

“Kesafat!” muttered a woman at a nearby table. Filth. She was embarrassed by this loud, sloppy pasdaran, sitting in what was supposed to be a cosmopolitan café.

“Shhh!!” said the young man again. His cousin was making him nervous. Even in a noisy café, the police had informants.

“Yes, I did. I caught them stealing. Our company was very, you know, quiet-quiet. It did business abroad. I don’t have to tell you…you know what. So they thought they could take money and no one would see. But I saw. And I tried to stop them. And now…”

Hossein stopped as the misery of his current circumstances enveloped him.

“And now you should go home,” said the young man. But Hossein ignored him. He leaned over and whispered hoarsely in his cousin’s ear. His breath reeked of alcohol.

“Do you think I could get a job in America? Or in Germany, I don’t care.”

“Sure. If you can get there.”

“But that is what I mean, cousin. Can you help me? My stick is broken, you know. Nobody will help me except you.”

This was what the young man feared most. That his cousin, in his misery, would try to use him to escape. This was truly dangerous, to be dragged down by a ruined ex-pasdaran with too many enemies.

“I don’t think I can help, my dear.”

“But you have power, cousin. You have connections. You have everything. We all know what you do. We know you are part of the network.”

“Be quiet!” said the young man sharply. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”

Hossein wagged his finger at his cousin. “Khak tu saret.” Dirt on your head. It was almost a curse.

“Quiet,” repeated the scientist.

“You are ungrateful. You are one of them, the privileged ones, so you think you can shit on your cousin when he is in need. How can you say this? For the memory of your father, my dear uncle, you should help me. You must help me. Otherwise I don’t know what I will do. I don’t know. It is so hard, to keep a face on…”

There were tears trickling down Hossein’s cheeks. The young man put his arm around his cousin’s shoulder. People were watching, but he didn’t care anymore.

“I will try to help you, Hossein. I will do what I can. But you must be very careful now. We all live on the edge of a knife. You know that. If you slip, it will cut you.”

The young man paid the bill and helped Hossein out of the café and back onto the street toward the car. Hossein was in no condition to drive, so the young man took them back to Hossein’s apartment off Mirdamad Avenue. He had passed out in the car, so they both slept there in the Peugeot for a few hours, until it was dawn, and then the young man went to look for a taxi to take him back to his apartment in Yoosef Abad.

He had a headache from the booze. His eyes were bloodshot. To rouse himself, he thought of his work. They had scheduled more tests of the equipment this week. Probably more failures. They would go to the special laboratory where they kept the most sensitive instruments. Probably he would have to stay overnight, perhaps for the whole week.

The stupid pasdaran who ran the program would ask him to take the measurements and calculate the pulses to milliseconds. They had all the power, but not enough knowledge. They wouldn’t explain to him how his piece fit with the other parts of the puzzle, but he knew. They all knew. Every time an experiment failed, it made the young man happy. He would pretend to be angry like the others, but inside he was happy. He did not want the program to succeed. That was one of the seeds of betrayal, the fact that he was devoting all his brainpower to a project he hoped would fail. That had told him something.

He made himself concentrate. His brain felt tight against his skull. It must be the dehydration, caused by the alcohol. He looked for a taxi. He would go home and shower, and then be in the office early. He would be the dedicated one. That was his mask.