Hafizadeh stroked his beard and said, “Perhaps ‘help’ is not the right word. We don’t want the type of help that you imply. No money, no secret operation to overthrow the government, no repeat of 1953. Thanks be to God.
“In fact, we want your assurance that you would leave us alone. We want you to know that we exist, that we have our own plans, that powerful forces are at work, and that one day we will take over the government, one way or another. Once we are the government, we only request you to recognize us as the legal government of Iran. When we have your overt backing, other countries will recognize us as well.”
“If I hear you correctly, you want the United States to give you carte blanche merely on the basis that you are not Ahmadinejad,” Steve replied. “What would be different in your policies?”
“The people who voted against Ahmadinejad would be free to speak out. Those who have been arrested would be released from jail. Reforms would be instituted, the same reforms that have been suppressed over the last thirty years.”
He paused as if to give weight to what he going to say, making sure he had his audience’s full attention. “We are no longer convinced that Velayat-e Faqih is right for our country, at least the way it is being practiced now, as the absolute guardianship of Islamic jurists over every aspect of government. We are discussing a more limited guardianship concept. It would be the most radical departure since the 1979 Revolution.”
Steve nodded to acknowledge the significance of Hafizadeh’s words although he wasn’t sure that he totally understood.
“I will be asked, and I need to be able to answer, questions about your nuclear program, your backing of Hamas and Hizballah, your assassinations, and terrorist operations abroad.”
“I can say this,” Hafizadeh said, looking earnestly in Steve’s eyes, “except for the development of peaceful nuclear power, most other issues could be on the table. We would be willing, and expect, to negotiate with your government.”
“I must reiterate that your message will have no weight if it’s not associated with a name.”
“If I tell you, you must agree that we will help you get out of the country,” Hafizadeh said. “We cannot take a chance that you will be captured. We don’t know how you plan to do that of course. So we’ll do it and make sure you don’t fall in the hands of Mousavi’s interrogators.”
Steve leaned back in his chair to take the aggression out of his statement.
“Mullah Hafizadeh, please don’t negotiate with me. I personally don’t care if your message gets through or not. I’m not the only channel. You could go to the U.S. Interests Section. You could travel to another country and go to the American Embassy. Hell, as long as you can travel, why not go directly to Washington and make your case?”
“Because each one has its drawbacks. And you’re here and available. This is the expedient way, the practical way.”
Steve sat forward again to indicate his agreement. “We would be fools not take your advice on how to get out. We reserve the final decision. Our lives are at stake.”
Hafizadeh looked at the men who had come with him for a second and then got up to go speak with them. Maybe they aren’t bodyguards after all, Steve thought. Hafizadeh returned to the table and sat down.
“Our leader is Hojatoleslam Mohammad Khatami. He is a former president and a well-known reformist. We are talking with Grand Ayatollah Hossein Ali Montazeri, and he is sympathetic. Also Ayatollah Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, who is chairman of the Assembly of Experts, the body that chooses the Supreme Leader.”
With that, Hafizadeh and his men abruptly left the room.
* **
After a few moments, Kella almost exploded. Is he kidding? Lech Walesa? I don’t think so. The liberals may have started the demonstrations but Hafizadeh can’t masquerade his boss as cut from the same cloth. Okay, the senior clergy and Ahmadinejad are not friends. The liberals are not the main players. It’s a battle within the religious establishment. Rafsanjani and friends are fighting back against Ahmadinejad who has been cutting their influence. These are the old clerics fighting to keep their perks.”
Steve rubbed his stubbly beard, which he had let grow ever since he had moved from the hotel, and asked, “How is it that you’re better informed on Iranian politics than I am, by the way?”
“Believe it or not, Farah and I didn’t spend our time discussing fashions—well, not all our time.”
“I’m more worried over how easy it has been for Hafizadeh to track us than who wins this tug of war between the ayatollahs. I’m thinking that Jemshid and Maryam couldn’t keep a secret.”
“They did manage to drop Khatami’s name as one of their friends. He is from Yazd, they said, and has been to their house. I don’t think it was an indiscretion. I would bet that Maryam, who I got to know a bit … she’s a clever woman … whispered in Jemshid’s ear that he should let Khatami know about us for political cover, for protection in case we and they got caught. Then Khatami saw an opportunity and he seized it.”
“You’re probably right,” Steve said. “But, this is way above my pay grade, especially since I’m not getting paid,” he smiled. “It’s not my job to make a decision on who’s going to be the king of the hill. All I can do is pass the message on. I’ve agreed to a meeting in Europe in two weeks between the agency and Khatami. If I’m wrong, we won’t show. By that time, I’ll be out of the picture.” He looked at Kella and smiled, “On vacation, right? Where do we want to go?”
“Depends. Are we going to be doing a High Altitude/Low Opening
