were a humble creature at the feet of a great man.
He asked for nothing. The Director would be most pleased to make such a squad available, in the name of the Imam.
The Director said, 'Consider the words of the martyred Ayatollah Sadeq Khalkhali: 'Those who are against killing have no place in Islam. Faith requires the shedding of blood, we are there to perform our duty…' He was a great man.'
And a great butcher, and a hanging judge without equal.
His patron, the Mullah that he served, was but a boy in comparison with Khalkhali, the unlamented protector of the Revolution.
'A great man, who spoke words of great wisdom,' the investigator said. And he asked the second favour. He asked that after Charlie Eshraq had collected his papers from the barber's shop, that the shop be destroyed by explosives.
Profusely, he thanked the Director for his cooperation.
It was necessary for him, business completed, to stay another hour in the company of the Director. The Director was pleased to report the details of the killing in London of Jamil Shabro, traitor to the Imam, traitor to his faith, and guilty of waging war against Allah.
When they parted, in the quiet of the dark, on the steps outside the old University, their cheeks brushed each other's lips.
If the restaurant had been half empty, and not full, then Park would have sat at a separate table. There was only their reserved table, so he had to sit with Eshraq if he wanted to eat. And he did want to eat.
Eshraq made conversation, as if they were strangers who had crossed paths in a strange city and needed company. And he ate like he was starting a hunger strike in the morning. He ate fettucine for starters, main course bowl, and he followed with the fegato, and took the lion's share of the vegetables they should have shared, and he finished with strawberries and then coffee and a large Armagnac to rinse down the valpolicella of which he had drunk two thirds of the bottle.
Park hadn't talked much, and the first real exchange was when he had insisted on halving the bill when it came. He took his time, Eshraq, but he pocketed the money, and he paid the whole bill with an American Express card.
Park said, 'But you won't be here, not when they bill you.'
'Present from America.'
'That's dishonest.'
'Why don't you call the head waiter?' The mocking in the eyes.
'And you eat like a pig.'
Eshraq leaned forward and he looked into Park's face. 'Do you think where I am going that I will be eating a meal like this, do you think so? And you know what is the penalty for drinking wine and for drinking brandy, do you know?'
'I don't know, and I don't care.'
'I could be flogged.'
'Best thing for you.'
'You are a generous member of the human race.'
There was a hesitation, and Park asked, 'When you get there, what do you do?'
'I build a life for myself.'
'Where do you live?'
'Sometimes rough and sometimes in safe houses, at first.'
'How long does it last?'
'How long is a piece of string, April Five?'
'I don't care, it's nothing to me, but it's suicide.'
'What did your man offer you, many years ago? He offered you blood and sweat and tears, and he offered you victory.'
He couldn't find the words. The words seemed to mean nothing. The face loomed ahead of him, and there was the chatter and the life of the restaurant around them, and the flapping of the kitchen doors, and laughter. 'And you're not coming back. There's no coming back, is there? It's all one way, isn't it? You're going back, and you're staying there. Is that right?'
'You said that you didn't care, that it was nothing to you, but I have no intention of dying.'
The bill came back, with his plastic. He put his tip on the table, between his coffee cup and the brandy glass, everything that Park had given him.
At the door, Eshraq kissed the waitress on the mouth, and he bowed to the applause of the other customers. Park followed him out. Eshraq was on the pavement and flexing himself, as if he was breathing in the London street air, as if he was trying to keep a part of it for himself, for always.
Park walked alongside him, back towards Eshraq's place.
He followed the big bounding strides. There was an excitement about the man. Everything before was wind- up, tomorrow was real. They reached the entrance to the flats.
'Eshraq, I just want to tell you something.'
'What?' Charlie turned. 'What do you want to tell me, April Five?'
It had been going through Park's mind most of the time at the restaurant. He waited while an old lady walked her dog between them, waited until the dog had cocked its leg against a railing and was then dragged away.
'I just want you to know that we will follow you anywhere you go, except Iran. If you come out of Iran then we'll know, and that goes for the rest of your life. We'll circulate you, Eshraq, they'll hear about you in Paris, Bonn, Rome, Washington, they'll know you're a trafficker in drugs. If you come out of Iran, if you pitch up at any airport, then I'll hear, I'll get the call. You want to play games with us, just try us.
That's the truth, Eshraq, and don't ever forget it.'
Charlie smiled. He fished his keys from his pocket.
'You're welcome to sleep on the floor.'
'I prefer my car.'
'Are you married?'
'What's that to you?'
'Just assumed you hadn't a home to go to.'
'My instructions are to stay close to you until you go over the border.'
'I asked if you were married.'
' I was.'
'What broke it?'
'If it's any of your business… you broke it.'
The Director General was at the Joint Intelligence Committee, the Deputy Director General was on his way back from the country. Of all the many hundreds who worked on the nineteen floors and the basement at Century they were the only two who had an overall picture of Furniss' case. Both would be at their desks by the late morning of Monday, neither was available for the fast reaction that was needed to co-ordinate a jumble of information originating from differing sources.
There was Carter's call from Albury on Sunday that had been logged by the Duty Officer. There was the monitoring of a short wave radio message in Oman that required immediate response. There was a report, brought by a Turkish lorry driver to Dogubeyezit, and from there telephoned to Ankara.
Related matters, but early on that Monday morning, as the building strove without enthusiasm to throw off lethargy, those matters remained unrelated. The transcript of Henry Carter's message was passed to the Director General's PA.
The short wave radio message ended on the desk of a man with the title of Special Services (Armed Forces) Liaison. The communication from Ankara lay in the In tray of the Desk Head (Near East).
Later, a sub-committee would be set up to examine means of ensuring that all crucial intelligence was distributed at once to the desks that were available to deal with it. There had been sub-committees with that brief as long as the old hands could remember.
Faced with the absence of the Director General and his deputy, the SS(AF)L officer took a car across the
