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to repair.”

Yazdi turned into a parking lot next to the “Blue Duck,” a fast food outlet. “So, what are they preparing?”

“Firuz told me that all major national systems in the United States are in their sights. They have been probing and penetrating different systems every day.”

He continued. “The computers holding Social Security records, Firuz said, could be destroyed at any time. All the cell phone towers could be disabled. The power grids could be shut down. Same with the air control system, and the gas and oil pipelines. The big banks, the financial institutions, the Pentagon.”

Steve was speechless for an instant. Just erasing Social Security records would be a catastrophe for millions of Americans. But there must be a duplicate record somewhere. Then again, maybe not.

Getting out of the car, he said, “Washington is worried about a nuclear program that’s still in the building stage, and here you’re telling me about something worse that could take down the nerve centers of the country. That’s hard to believe. We better refocus on the most imminent danger.” Conscious of others in the parking lot, Steve kept quiet as they walked into a surprisingly large and upscale “Blue Duck”

“Which brings us to Firuz,” he continued after they sat at a table in the back. “He’s suddenly become very important. What’s driving him? Was California that bad?”

“I’m not sure,” Yazdi replied. “I think it’s more a question of conflicted loyalty. He has a romantic idea of ancient Persia. Its great history compared to its fallen status now makes him angry, makes many people angry.”

He looked pointedly at Steve. “It’s not that he hates America. I think that he would work against any other country if an Iranian authority told him to.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Steve said.

“Well, maybe not anymore. He’s not the firebrand he was when he first arrived. Also, he’s talking to his girl friend Joy on the phone. I think she wants him to come back.” He laughed quietly.

“I heard that the Chinese have been probing American computer systems, especially the Pentagon, some of it successful. I haven’t heard that Iran was in the game.”

As if suddenly remembering, Yazdi said, “Oh yes, China. Firuz said that they routed many of their attacks to make it appear they came from China.”

“Did you say that’s what they were doing until recently? What did you mean? What are they doing now? You sound as if this cyber weapon is ready to go at any time. Is that right?”

“I think so. Maybe not one hundred percent ready but close.” The food they had ordered was on the table, untouched.

Steve felt his anxieties rise to the surface. He took a deep breath as the purpose for his mission to Iran suddenly underwent a complete change.

“This is now our number one collection target,” he said in a low voice looking directly at Yazdi. “Get to Firuz and get him to talk about Iranian intentions. In other words,” he continued with more urgency, “is this capability being built for immediate use or is it to have on tap for some future undefined time?”

They left the restaurant having eaten little. They reviewed arrangements for the next meeting, which would take place in a safe apartment, but otherwise rode in silence until heavy traffic stopped the car, and Steve got out to meld with the pedestrian population on its way home.

 

27. Tehran: Ministry of Intelligence Compound

 

Hashem Yazdi chatted with the three men waiting for Mousavi in his outer office. He knew them, having run into them before. They all had internal security responsibilities. One of them, Ali Tavakoli, was in charge of the al Quds Karbala Brigades, better known for putting down potential rebellions than for more sophisticated operations such as counterespionage. Yazdi had requested the meeting, but the other three had been convoked. Yazdi was called in first.

When he walked into Mousavi’s office, he found him brooding over the chessboard, more disheveled than ever. Perhaps conscious of his appearance, Mousavi ran a hand through his hair to no effect whatsoever. His eyes were hard and his mouth a tight line.

With a black onyx warrior in his hand he asked Yazdi, “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Steltzer, the German professor.”

As Mousavi put the onyx pawn back on the board, he said, “Forget Steltzer. Something more important has come up. The Great Satan has a spy in Tehran.”

Mousavi walked toward his desk. “Call the others in. I want you to hear this.”

While Yazdi stood to one side, the three others stood in front of Mousavi’s desk. Looking as angry as Yazdi had ever seen him, Mousavi said, “There is a CIA spy here somewhere. He’s a businessman.”

As he spoke, Mousavi’s fingers absent-mindedly toyed with a lighter. “I want you to review all the foreign businessmen who have traveled to Tehran in the last month. Screen them but no arrests yet. He isn’t here for tourism. He must be running an agent. I want to catch them both. Together. Drop anything else you’re doing. This is your number one task.”

The head of the national police asked, “How good is the information Minister?”

His hair quivering in many directions and pointing the lighter at the police chief, Mousavi replied, “Are you an idiot? Do you take me for one? Would I give these orders without a good reason?”

“What about the U.S. Interests Section? We’ve had intermittent surveillance on Crossley and his people but haven’t detected anything suspicious. Should we put them under twenty-four hour watch?” another officer asked.

“Don’t bother. The spy is not assigned to the Interests Section.”

Yazdi spoke up, “With respect, Minister, isn’t it possible that the spy would try to be in touch with the American Interest section at the Swiss Embassy? Maybe to have to transmit information to Washington?”

Mousavi said, “Okay, keep the

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