Part 9 (1/2)

Now, on the streets of Tehran, my colleagues and I would use these skills to throw off any potential pursuers who might try to use us to get to RAPTOR. Hal and I were joined by Andrew, a local doc.u.ments officer. Weaving through the narrow streets, the three of us quickly backtracked and then ducked into a bustling department store on Abbasabad Avenue. It was a favorite technique used by Agency officers, because the large stores usually had multiple exits and it was almost impossible to cover them all. Emerging from the store, we then strode through the middle of the street, dodging the suicidal traffic of Tehran-many of the cars driving without headlights-in order to throw off any vehicle surveillance that may have been following us. Such a move would probably be considered provocative by Moscow standards, where the operatives were all highly trained professionals, but here in Iran, where the opposition was basically composed of revolutionary zealots, it got the job done.

The nondescript apartment building was located just off Motahari Boulevard, right next to a hotel that housed a popular restaurant.

RAPTOR was hiding in the shadows of the second-floor landing, and as we approached, he stepped out into the light and embraced me, his eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears. I studied him with an artist's attention to detail-the gaunt, sickly man in the ill-fitting sweater bore little resemblance to photos I'd been shown of a confident-looking colonel in his mid-thirties.

RAPTOR led us up to a fourth-floor apartment, which was bare except for a soiled couch and a partially dismantled TV set. The kitchen counter was stacked with worn magazines that had been flipped through too many times, and Farsi newspapers, along with a bag of rice, a sack of lentils, and some canned food. It was obvious he'd been camping out here for several weeks. In lieu of curtains, old newspapers covered the windows.

Moving purposefully, Andrew and I walked RAPTOR through the dark apartment and toward the bathroom. I knew it was important to put him at ease. ”This won't take long,” I said, telling him not to worry.

As we entered the bathroom, Hal pulled open a narrow window at the back of the apartment and tossed out a coiled rope. This was to be our ”escape route” in the event that Revolutionary Guards came charging up the stairwell. The window opened up onto a light shaft ending forty feet below, which adjoined the nearby hotel. After climbing down the rope, we could then enter through a laundry window and leave the hotel through a service entrance. All of this had been figured out the previous day, when the three of us had taken turns casing the service entrance from the hotel restaurant. During Hal's turn, he'd gone into the restaurant's washroom, which had a window that opened up onto the shaft. While he was leaning out, the band on his expensive wrist.w.a.tch broke and the watch tumbled out onto the windowsill below. When he got back to the table, he explained what had happened. While he was lamenting his loss, I'd gone to see what I could do. Descending two flights of stairs, I entered the laundry and quickly put on a dirty waiter's coat to blend in. I then made my way through the large tumbling machines to the washroom and retrieved the watch from the light shaft. Hal was speechless when I returned and dropped it onto the table in front of him.

Inside the apartment's bathroom, RAPTOR improvised a lightbulb by attaching the twisted copper ends of a flat television antenna wire to a bulb with his right hand, while using his left to jam the opposite ends of the wire into the electrical socket next to the sink. I set down my kit and quickly got to work.

”I've done this hundreds of times,” I told him, as I applied the special disguise materials I'd brought with me. Half his face, from his hairline down to his upper lip, was soon covered by a stretchy material that obscured his vision and forced him to breathe through his mouth.

As I did this, Andrew a.s.sisted me by preparing a special adhesive, stirring it under a stream of water from the tap. Hal, meanwhile, sat on the sofa in the bedroom and monitored a small two-way Motorola radio he held to his ear. The radio connected him to a team of CIA officers who were outside, watching the street below. We were leaving nothing to chance.

”Just a few more minutes,” I said as I tested the disguise with my fingertips. Suddenly, we heard a knock on the door and everyone froze.

RAPTOR pulled the wires out of the socket and we emerged from the bathroom. We made our way through the living room toward the front door. Blinded by the disguise materials, RAPTOR was forced to grope his way along, as I led him by the hand. I showed him by feel where the doork.n.o.b was and he, in turn, put his mouth up to the crack between the door and the molding.

”Who's there?” he whispered, his mouth just inches from the door.

”It's me, Uncle,” responded the hushed voice of a young boy.

We all relaxed. One of RAPTOR's relatives owned many flats in the building and the voice belonged to the man's son.

The child asked if RAPTOR needed anything from the bazaar.

”No,” he responded. ”Come back and see me later.”

We listened to the boy's light footsteps as they faded down the stairs. Then we returned to the bathroom, where I was finally able to remove the disguise materials.

After this episode, RAPTOR was moved to a CIA safe site near the U.S. emba.s.sy. The two of us continued to meet repeatedly over the next three days as I finalized his disguise. We had decided to take him out through Mehrabad Airport right under the noses of the Revolutionary Guards. It was a risky move, but I was confident the plan could work. I had transformed the middle-aged Iranian colonel into a sixty-five-year-old Jordanian businessman, complete with a receding hairline and lumpy woolen suit. RAPTOR spoke decent Arabic and could affect a British accent when he spoke English, which would help him pull off the disguise.

On the day before departure, we all met with RAPTOR for a final dress rehearsal. Wearing his disguise, he sat at the dining room table flipping through the well-worn travel doc.u.ments that Andrew had provided for him. When he looked up, a smile spread across his face and I could see that he was pleased with our efforts. To the untrained eye, he was a dead ringer for a distinguished Arab salesman who had traveled the Gulf states for decades. I had even coached him on how to walk and talk and fumble for his doc.u.ments when presenting his papers to the immigration officers. In addition, he'd spent hours with Andrew going over his alias doc.u.mentation, travel plans, and cover story. He'd also memorized a list of phone numbers for ”affiliate” offices in the Middle East, which were really CIA fronts prepared to vouch for him should Iranian officials call.

Everything seemed ready. RAPTOR had proved to be a quick study and was motivated, and yet I was worried. I'd noticed over the past few days how he would periodically slip into a deep depression.

His biggest fear was being caught and tortured. ”You have no idea what they would do to me,” he said. Normally I would just chalk this kind of talk up to nerves, but when he asked if he could have a cyanide capsule, I became genuinely concerned.

”I'm not sure he's going to be able to pull this off,” I told Hal the night before the exfiltration.

”What do you have in mind?” he asked me.

”I'll wake him up early tomorrow and make my final a.s.sessment then,” I said. ”If I don't think he can make it through on his own, I'll personally see him past the controls.”

It was going way beyond headquarters' mandate, but I didn't see any other option.

The following day my fears were confirmed when I woke RAPTOR, now known as ”Mr. Ka.s.sim,” at three in the morning only to be confronted by a wreck of a man with a greenish pallor and a haunted look in his eyes. It was clear that he hadn't slept at all and was certainly in no condition to attempt getting through security on his own.