The Increment: A Novel - By David Ignatius Page 0,63

groaned and shook their heads. They knew how valuable the Iranian was, even if Fox didn’t, and that it was critical that he remain in place. Now he was sending a cryptic message asking to defect? Nobody wanted to hear that now, when the clock was ticking and the president himself talked in the Situation Room about “our man in Tehran.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Fox’s deputy. He was worried that Harry would do something rash that might derail the policy train.

“Nothing,” said Harry. “Just tell him that we received his message and that we’ll get back to him soon.”

People around the table were relieved. At the modern-day CIA, doing nothing was usually the desirable course of action. If you did something, it was bound to make someone angry, and then they would start asking questions and demanding answers. But Harry meant something a little different. He would do nothing through CIA channels. He had entered a separate space. That was what Adrian had achieved. He had drawn Harry into another compartment.

Harry wanted to understand the photograph. It was a clue, but what did it mean? He sent a copy of the jpeg to the Iranian-

American analyst in Persia House who had recognized the fragment of Ferdowsi’s poetry many weeks ago. Could she identify the woman using any of their databases? Could she find out more about when and where the photograph was taken?

The analyst was suspicious. She thought the photograph was too perfect, and wondered if she had seen it before. She did some research, and after twenty-four hours, she found an identical picture—of an Iranian movie actress and a child. It was a still photo from a new Iranian film, which had appeared in Kayhan newspaper a few months before. A little more research revealed that the woman in question was married to an Iranian movie director—so she could not be the wife of their Dr. Ali. It was a haunting photograph, in its way. But why had he chosen to send this false documentation?

Pappas asked the analyst for more information. What was in the background of the photograph? Was there any Farsi writing that might be a clue? Who was the movie director? What films had he made? The analysts sent Harry a list of the films made by the director. The most famous of them was called Paper Airplanes. It was about illusions, the analysts said. Was that part of Dr. Ali’s message? Did that explain his comment that “the problem you are worried about will be okay”? Was it part of his plea for help in escaping?

And then it occurred to Harry that there was a simpler explanation. Dr. Ali had sent a false picture because a true one would have given him away. He had sent a picture of someone famous, whom the Iranians could identify if they tracked the message. They would ask all their questions about the director and his wife. When they realized that the movie director was blameless, they would assume that the sender of the message must have a wife and child, too—that this was part of the communication. But it was a veil, over a mask, over a lie.

“I say we leave him in,” said Fox. “A few more months, while all this plays out. He can still do us some good, if he’s in. Once he’s out, he’s worthless.” He looked toward Harry and stuck his chin out, as if to show that he was in command of the situation.

They were sitting in the director’s office, on the couch by the window. The director was fiddling with a set of pearl-inlaid dice he had received on a recent trip to Oman, from the chief of the intelligence service there. He kept shaking them in his hand, but he didn’t let them roll. The rattle and click of the dice was the only sound in the room.

“What do you think, Harry?” asked the director, setting down the dice. They showed double sixes. Boxcars.

“He’s our agent,” said Pappas. “He’s frightened, and he’s asking for help. He trusts us. If we screw him and he gets caught, it may be years before anyone else takes the plunge. Plus, we need to talk with him. We can’t understand what his intel means without a real debrief.”

“Could we get him out, assuming that we decided we want to?”

“Maybe,” answered Harry. “We have an exfiltration plan for Tehran, same as for everywhere. But it’s complicated because we don’t have a station