possible fate of the Chameleon. It only said that McHanna was nervous about recent developments, and that he even told his employees that if they ever reported on him, he would get them. I think Reza sent these letters to his mother as an insurance policy. Maybe he didn’t trust Atashbon command’s protection that much.”
I got up. “I’m going home to wash up. Even I can’t stand myself any longer.”
Back home, my happiness at the developments couldn’t distract me from how ill I felt. Was it the vomit that McHanna dribbled on me? I checked my temperature-it was 101.9°F. I took two Tylenols and fell on my bed. I slept on and off for eighteen hours until the fever subsided, but I was still aching. All of the travel and adventure was catching up to me. I remembered my mother saying that after a certain age, if you don’t wake up aching in every joint, you are probably dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Two days later I was asked to attend a meeting at Hodson’s office. Casey and Holliday were there as well. Hodson pulled out a white envelope. “This is for you.”
I put it in my pocket.
“No,” said Hodson. “Read it now.”
I opened the envelope. It contained a letter from the assistant secretary of defense. Dear Dan, On behalf of the United States, I wish to thank you for your contribution in unveiling the sale of long-range cruise missiles to Iran. Maintaining the military supremacy of the United States and disarming rogue nations guarantees our national security. Your efforts were an important step towards fulfilling that goal.
“What the hell is he talking about?” I was really surprised. “I had no connection to any information on Iranian missiles.”
“You missed a lot while you were in isolation,” said Casey. “The pieces are all falling together. Ukraine has confirmed that twelve of its cruise missiles were sold to Iran and six to China. However, when it became public, the Ukrainians claimed that the sales were unauthorized. They also claim that private businessmen sold Iran twelve X-55 cruise missiles, which are known better as Kh-55s or AS-15s.”
“With nuclear warheads?” I asked.
“No. But that’s no consolation. They have a range of eighteen hundred miles, which covers most of Russia, Japan, and of course Israel.”
“I heard that Iran was developing long-range missiles,” I said. “And that their ultimate goal is to develop transcontinental missiles with a sixty-five hundred mile range that can get to the United States. But they aren’t there yet, so that’s why they purchased ready-made ones. But what have I got to do with it?”
Hodson ignored my question and continued. “Even now, after that sale, Iran is already the third country in the world, after the U.S. and Russia, to have cruise missiles. This type has a sophisticated navigational system that corrects itself after launch by comparing the terrain it passes with photos of the target programmed into its computer.”
“But you didn’t answer my question. What have I done in this matter to deserve the letter?” I persisted.
Casey finally spelled it out. “You identified Hasan Lotfi as a potential defector. We made contact with him. He brought in the information. The Pentagon is pretty pleased. Pressure put on the Ukrainian government led to the dealers’ indictment, and the Iranians will have a difficult time getting spare parts and tech support. Without that, the missiles won’t be operational too soon.”
I folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. “My grandchildren will be proud of me,” I said with half a smile. “What about McHanna? I was sick like a dog for two days.”
Hodson briefed me on McHanna’s interrogation.
“What about the sniper?” I asked.
“Staged,” said Hodson. “We suspected from the beginning that the event was odd. A pro using a scope missed from fifty-seven yards? No sniper would miss from four times that short distance using such sophisticated equipment. The conclusion was that the shooter didn’t intend to hit McHanna.”
“He only wanted to frighten him?”
“We thought of that too. But your initial suspicion of Saida Rhaman, the receptionist, was right. We got to her, and from her to her uncle, Nikoukar Jafarzadeh. Corroborative evidence was found when we discovered that the gun was purchased in Virginia by Nikoukar Jafarzadeh. He and his niece told us that McHanna had asked them to arrange the mock shooting.”
“Did he give them a reason?”
“Yes. According to them, McHanna said that his management didn’t appreciate him and was about to fire him, which could lead to Saida’s losing her job as well. Therefore he thought that an attempt on his life would make it difficult for the company’s owners to get rid of him.”
“Did you buy that story? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck?” grunted Hodson. “We’ve leads suggesting that Nikoukar Jafarzadeh was the Atashbon’s local muscle, and the shooting came as a warning to McHanna.”
“Why didn’t he take McHanna out?”
“We’ll investigate that. But personally I think that McHanna misread the Iranians. He was too valuable to them, his stealing notwithstanding. Money was not their problem at that point-you’ll soon hear why. McHanna was the only non-Iranian in the operation, and they didn’t trust him completely, but still needed a Yankee in the operation.”
“I guess they were right.” I scratched my head. “What about Reza Nazeri? He was pushed from the platform of a train to his death. Was McHanna involved?”
“McHanna confessed that he ordered his death as self-defense. Reza discovered that McHanna was stealing and threatened to turn him in.”
I wondered why Reza hadn’t just had McHanna quietly eliminated. Had he tried and failed?
“What about Nazeri’s apartment? I found it too clean.”
“We haven’t gotten to it yet, but I’m sure McHanna went there personally or sent Jafarzadeh.”
“So if we have sufficient evidence, why strike a deal?”
“McHanna told us these details in a proffer, with the understanding that there will be a plea bargain. Life without the possibility of parole. That’s a worse punishment than death.”
“What about the remaining members of Atashbon?”
“He said he has details on only six members.”
“Did he name them?”
“Yes. Kourosh, our Chameleon; Reza, aka Gonda, now deceased; and Arthur Jenkins, Timothy Williamson, Alec Simmons, Kevin DiAngelo, and Frank Gonzales. These names match the names of American men who went missing in the eighties. These six suspects changed these names to other American-sounding names immediately after they completed the first round of the scam operations. They simply used the good old throwaway cover: one alias was layered on top of another alias. That’s why we couldn’t find them- the string of aliases was abandoned, but the operatives remained here. They are all in custody. They claimed that they had severed their relationship with Iran a long time ago, and are now law-abiding citizens.”
“Though not, of course, of the U.S.” I said. “Do you believe them?”
He chuckled. “They’ll be indicted, and tried. If convicted, they’ll be deported after serving their sentences- that is, if they’re still living forty to sixty years from now. Oddly, or not so oddly, some of them claimed to be employees of a legitimate printing-press company. When we checked their story an interesting thing happened. In addition to their racketeering activity in defrauding banks and being covert operatives of Iran, they were operating a much bigger operation, which dwarfed the $300 million stolen from U.S. banks. We’re talking billions of dollars here. Three hundred million is a lot of money, but it cannot collapse the U.S. economy. But hundreds of billions could cause serious damage.”
“Billions? I saw no reference to it in the files.”
“There was no reference there,” said Hodson. “Together with U.S. Secret Ser vice we discovered that Atashbon members in the United States were running a printing press of counterfeit U.S. dollars. Iranian agents bought the printing machines from Germany and smuggled them to the U.S. in several shipments, using a front
