Part 19 (1/2)

For the next several days, while I enjoyed the life I had missed for years, Somaya and I talked about our future. She agreed right away when I proposed that we move to America.

”Oh, California! I'd love to go to Los Angeles. The weather ... Malibu Beach ... Hollywood. And, oh my G.o.d, we can take Omid to Disneyland every day!” She closed her eyes and smiled like a child.

I laughed. ”You've been watching a lot of American movies, haven't you?”

She patted my arm and said playfully, ”You are so mean.” Then she added, ”It is not all about that. I could finish school there.” Somaya had started going to college in London part-time. She was not sure of what she wanted to study, as she had several majors in mind. ”I can decide what I want to do in America.”

”You'll be good at anything you put your mind to.”

Next, I had to call Carol to advise her of my decision to leave the agency, and to ask her help in arranging our trip to America. She had told me several times previously that when I was ready to go to the U.S. she would have our paperwork processed to attain our residency status.

Carol was shocked when I called and told her I was in London. She said she hoped I had a better excuse this time for not telling her about my trip. She asked me to meet her at the same hotel where we had met the last time. This seemed unusual, but it didn't matter to me anymore.

Seeing Carol, of course, meant that I had to lie to Somaya again about what I was doing, something I could barely reconcile any longer. I made up a story about contacting an immigration lawyer and planning a meeting to see what our options were.

”I'd like it if we could do these things together from now on,” Somaya stated flatly.

”We will. This time is just a consultation. If the lawyer is any good, we'll go together next time.” As the words left my mouth, I pleaded with G.o.d to make it possible for me to end my double life as soon as possible.

Carol gave me a warm hug as I entered the hotel room. ”What brings you here this time? Visiting your family?” She didn't seem at all worried about why I'd asked to see her, perhaps because I was projecting the strength and serenity that several days with Somaya and Omid had provided.

”Yes, I am visiting. But there is more.” I hesitated for a moment. ”I need you to help me and my family move to the States.”

Now concern crossed her face. ”Is everything all right?”

”I lost my mother during the missile attacks. And a few weeks ago, before I came here, Kazem was killed. ...”

”Oh my G.o.d! I am so sorry, Wally.”

I didn't want to hear the name Wally now. For the past few days, I hadn't been thinking like Wally at all.

”What happened to Kazem?” she asked in disbelief.

I related all of it to her, explaining that the stoning and Kazem's a.s.sa.s.sination were the final straws for me. I told her that I was convinced that it was impossible for me-emotionally and physically-to remain in Iran.

”I am sorry,” she said, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head.

”I talked to Somaya and we think it is better for us and for our son to live in the States instead of England.”

Carol nodded thoughtfully. ”Is this your final decision, Wally?”

I didn't hesitate in my response. ”I am afraid it is,” I said, surprised at how good it felt to get out those words.

”Then I will do my best to get everything ready,” Carol said with a warm smile. ”Give me a week and I'll have your papers prepared. But call me in a few days so we can set up another meeting.”

When I heard her say this, I realized that I was truly committing to ending my double life. I'd wanted to do this for a long time, but I wasn't prepared for the ambivalence that struck me now. What about the madness still going on in my country? Was I truly prepared to leave so many good Iranians behind?

At the same time, though, I had to wonder if my efforts as Wally had really helped anyone. Did my reports accomplish what I hoped they would? I'd told the CIA about Iraq's use of chemical weapons, but this led to nothing more than the U.S. government's condemnation of the practice while they continued to provide Saddam with military intelligence and training, along with billions of dollars in economic aid. I reported China's secret military cooperation with the Guards, and again, this led only to a condemnation. I reported the ruthless torture and killing of men and women opposing the mullahs and how some European countries even allowed such practices within their own borders, and yet the West continued to sidestep its principles of supporting democracy and defending human rights because of the lure of Iranian oil.

You did all you could do, I told myself. I told myself. You did as much as one man You did as much as one man can can do. do. For many years I had been certain that I was working for the freedom of my country. But now I realized that I was just another employee of the CIA. For many years I had been certain that I was working for the freedom of my country. But now I realized that I was just another employee of the CIA.

Carol held up an envelope. ”This is for you.”

I stared at the envelope, wondering why she was giving me money after what I'd told her.

”It's for your hard work,” she said, as though reading my mind.

I slipped the envelope inside my breast pocket. ”Thanks.”

”Wally, I'm not trying to change your mind, but if you decide to go back to Iran, even for a short while, and continue the work, the agency will provide you with a new car, a house, and a guaranteed job with a good salary at the headquarters when you return to the States.”

I felt somewhat insulted that she would suggest this after what I told her I'd been through, but I decided to let it lie. ”That is a very generous offer, Carol, but I have to pa.s.s at this moment.” My voice was a little husky. ”For the sake of my family.”

The next time I saw Carol to go over our papers, I had Omid with me. Somaya was at school and I had told my in-laws I was going for a walk with my son. Carol was surprised when she saw the boy. It didn't dawn on me until that moment how stupid it was to bring Omid along. He was six years old and he was likely to tell Somaya how we had spent our day.

”This is my son, Omid, Ms. Lawyer,” I said, trying to spin this on the spot. ”Omid jon, jon, please shake hands with our lawyer. She is working on our case so we can go to America.” please shake hands with our lawyer. She is working on our case so we can go to America.”

Omid shook Carol's hand. My six-year-old son six-year-old son was shaking hands with a CIA agent in a covert meeting. The moment bordered on surreal. was shaking hands with a CIA agent in a covert meeting. The moment bordered on surreal.

The hotel room arrangement was a little different this time, thankfully. We were in a suite, the bedroom closed off by a double door. In the living area with us was a couch, a coffee table, and a huge working desk piled with Carol's paperwork, her briefcase, and a portable computer, perhaps one of the very first laptops ever available to the CIA's agents. It did not look like a lawyer's office, but I hoped it was convincing enough for a six-year-old to think it was.

”Hi, Omid. Nice to meet you,” Carol said as she gave him a delightful smile. She looked up at me. ”Your son is very handsome.”

Though having Omid there was a little awkward, we were able to get through some of the paperwork. Carol said she would start the procedure with this and that she would let me know what else we needed to do.

”I think it is important to bring my wife along so she can be part of this process without ...”-I looked at Omid, who was on the couch looking at a magazine. I lowered my voice-”... without being suspicious.”

”I'll plan something to make it look real and official,” she whispered. ”Call me tomorrow and we'll talk.”

I felt embarra.s.sed having to put Carol in that position. She obviously had more important things to do than prepare an elaborate ruse for my benefit-especially now that I was walking away from my role. Still, I needed the kind of help that only she could provide if I were going to maintain the secret that the CIA needed me to maintain.

After the meeting, I took Omid to Hamleys, a toy store, buying him a remote-control police car and a two-hundred-piece Lego fire station to keep him busy for the night so I could explain that day's meeting to Somaya without his comments.

As promised, Carol set up a meeting to which I could bring Somaya. The two of us entered a three-story building on Regent Street where the ”law office of Harriet Johnson” was located on the second floor. There were two offices across from each other in a narrow hallway and I wasn't sure which was Carol's.

”Weren't you here before?” Somaya asked.

”Not here, no,” I said, coming up quickly with yet another fabrication. ”I thought I mentioned that Harriet just split from her old law partner. She moved here only a few days ago. Oh, there it is.”

I knocked and entered the room. Carol was sitting behind a desk piled with files, books, and papers, taking notes on a pad. Behind her desk, there was a bookshelf across the back wall filled with hardcover books. She was in a blue suit, her hair up, and her bifocals down on the tip of her nose. It was the first time I'd seen her with gla.s.ses and it surprised me that these made her look much older.

”Please have a seat,” she said without looking up at us. ”I'll be with you in a minute.”

I was nervous and s.h.i.+fted in my chair, not ready for this, not sure if I could act my part. I'd been ”performing” through most of my life as a CIA agent, but this scenario was different. I'd never been asked to deceive my wife in front of my employer. Somaya looked at me with a frown on her face. She noticed my discomfort. I bent my head toward her ear and whispered in Farsi, ”Ageh nashe chi? What if she says we can't go?” What if she says we can't go?”

”Sorry for the delay, Mr. Kahlili,” Carol said a few minutes later. She reached a hand out to Somaya. ”This must be your wife. My name is Harriet Johnson, and it is a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Kahlili.”