CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
It's childish I know but I was really relishing the idea of winding this guy up. I couldn't wait to see the indignation on his face when I entered the room, flaunting my hair and ankles. It was a particularly hot afternoon and normally I'd have been wearing a lot less but White advised me to cover up a bit, otherwise he'd just freak and say nothing.
We had his prints from the flat where we found the laptop and aerial so it seemed he was fairly high up in the pecking order. Thus far he had refused to say anything beyond the usual 'death to western capitalism' bollocks. White had spent a gruelling ten hours interrogating him and getting nowhere. In desperation he asked me to have a go, thinking that being questioned by a blond, white woman would confuse him so much he may inadvertently give us something useful.
He'd also taken me aside and had a quiet, unofficial word. The rest of the Iranians were clearly either in awe or scared of this guy and were taking their lead from him. White told me that if I was still getting nothing then it would be permissible to provoke him into attacking me and to kill him. The hope was that that would break his cultish spell and some of the others would open up.
If none of this worked then realistically we were left with one last, unpalatable option - to confront the CIA directly at their headquarters.
I collected my thoughts and entered the cell.
He didn't notice me at first because he was praying. I was sorely tempted to interrupt him and yell "here I am" but I restrained myself.
When he did open his eyes and register my presence it seemed to take a few seconds for his mind to comprehend the situation.
When it finally sank in he merely averted his eyes and started praying again. I was surprised for a second, and then deeply offended as I realised that he thought I was a prostitute been brought in to tempt him.
"Oi, you can stop that, I'm not here as a honey trap. I'm here to interrogate you."
Again he seemed befuddled but then broke out in staccato laughter.
"Ha! Are the western pigs so weak that they send a woman to ask me the questions?"
"Will you please accompany me to the interrogation room?" I asked with as much politeness as I could muster.
He just continued laughing at me and didn't move.
I lifted him off the bed with his arm behind his back and took him out of the cell, deliberately taking a long route past the cells of his fellow countrymen as White and I had discussed.
He let out a constant stream of Arabic rhetoric and I slowed my pace to give all the other Iranians a chance to observe. I had no idea what they were saying but some of the others were clearly terrified to see their leading light being manhandled, so to speak, by a woman.
On a whim, I threw him against the wall, hoping he would try to attack me. He played along all too predictably so I kneed him in the stomach and pushed him to his knees. I hadn't considered the religious significance of this gesture but three of the others began wrenching at their bars like caged animals. The other two just went quiet so I made a mental note to flag them up for questioning as they were likely to be more pliable and cooperative.
Having got all I could from this circus performance, I pulled him to his feet and pushed him onwards to the interrogation room.
Once he was seated he stopped physically struggling but retained the sullen, contemptuous expression.
"It was bad enough that the white-eyed atheist questioned me but now they are insulting me with a woman."
He spat on my shoes.
"Those are my best hiking boots," I shouted, incensed at the insult. If he was trying to intimidate me he failed spectacularly. I put my foot up on the table and grabbed him by his hair.
"Lick my shoe," I said quietly.
This was clearly melting his brain as his whole demeanour changed.
"I cannot lick the shoe of a woman," he said in a whisper.
"Either you do that or answer my questions."
Still he hesitated.
I had an idea, then decided it was an absolute last resort.
"Well, which is it to be?" I prompted.
I could tell he was eighty percent of the way towards cooperating. I waited a full minute and he continued to weigh up his options. I decided to go nuclear and use my last resort.
"Answer all my questions now or I'll take my clothes off."
He stared in disbelief.
I waited.
He still wasn't speaking so I lifted up my top a few inches.
He almost collapsed in on himself like a neutron star.
"Okay, okay, I will talk, please do not disrobe in my presence, you will send me to hell."
"Good job my ego isn't easily bruised," I said, "Right, when, where and why were you recruited?"
"I was not recruited, I started this," he said with visible pride.
I checked that the video and sound were recording.
"Tell me everything, from the beginning."
"I and a few brothers became aware that there were people in Tehran playing God. Turning men into machines, stealing their minds and their souls. We could not let this affront to God continue. We stoned the blasphemous scientists and burned their evil laboratory."
I was sorely tempted to ask whether having a pace-maker made my father a tool of Satan but I let him continue.
"I went on the internet and found other examples in my country, so we mobilised more brothers to fight the growing evil."
I let him blather on in similar fashion for a few minutes in case anyone was more interested in his delusional rantings than me. When he reached a natural pause, I prompted him to spill what we really needed to know.
"How did you become involved with the Americans?"
He smiled gleefully.
"That was the cleverest part of my plan. The CIA pigs learned of our good work and gave us money to continue on a bigger scale. They have their own economic reasons for wanting to destroy these abominations, that does not interest me. I allowed them to think that we are ignorant fanatics who will do whatever they say, but really I have been using them. They can get us into the heart of the west, into your country, and keep us invisible."
Not that invisible, I thought, but let him go on.
"You are keen for me to leave, aren't you?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Okay, I'll do you a deal. I will ask you one more question and then leave, so long as you continue to cooperate and answer more questions from some men. Otherwise..."
I pulled my top down a few centimeters, which I knew to him was like me wrapping my legs around his head.
"Yes, yes, I agree, please ask your question."
"What do you know about our Agent 4 and what the CIA did to his head?"
"I have not heard anything of an Agent 4 or his head."
I could tell he was being truthful, he was by now too scared of me to do anything else.
I got up and left abruptly, saving the poor man the dilemma of how to acknowledge my departure. I suspected he would have to do a lot of praying tonight.
I went straight to the room next door where White was tidying up his notes.
"You're lucky, it worked," I said, "I never would have tried it myself."
"It was a calculated risk, but isn't that our business?" he smiled. "Good job, though we'll have to destroy the footage when we're done with it."
"What, my finest performance?" I preened.
"Even nowadays we'd be in the shit for doing that to a Muslim, best nobody else ever sees it."
"We got what we needed from their side though, I think it's all down to those CIA bastards now."
"I agree, but I can't get anything out of them, and you flashing them isn't going to work."
"It might," I said, "if I went through with it."
He gave me a suitably headmasterly look.
"So what now then?" I asked.
"I'll review the footage and see what it adds to our picture," he said, "then I'll probably have to consult the PM again."