Rakoczy had babbled out his two covers long since and then his real name, KGB number, where he was educated, born, married, lived, his known superiors in Tbilisi, their involvement in Iran, the Tudeh, the mujhadin, how and where they supported the Kurdish independence movement, who his contacts were. “Who’s the top KGB Azerbaijani?”
“I… no more please … pleasestoppppp it’s Abdollah Khan of Tabriz … him, only him of importance and he… he was … is to to to be the first President when Azer… Azerbaijan be… becomes independent but now he’s too big and inde independent so… so now he’s a Section 16/a…”
“You’re not telling us all the truth - teach him a lesson!” “Oh I amlamlampleaseeeeee…”
Then reviving him and his babbling again, about Ibrahim Kyabi, Ibrahim’s father, the mullah Kowissi, who the Tudeh student leaders were, about his own wife, about his father and where he lived in Tbilisi, and about his grandfather who was in the tsar’s secret police before being a founding member of the Cheka, then OGPU, NKVD, and finally the KGB - founded in ‘54 by Khrushchev after Beria had been shot as a Western spy. “You believe Beria was a spy for us, Mzytryk?” “Yes … yes … yes he was, the KGB had proof oh yes … please stoppppp… please stopppppp I’ll tell you anythth-ingggggg…”
“How could they have proof to that lie?” “Yes it was a lie but we were to believe it we were… we had to had to had to… please stopppppp I begggggg you…”
“Stop hurting him, you devils.” Armstrong’s voice came in on cue. “No need to hurt him if he’s cooperating - how many times do I have to tell you! So long as he tells the truth don’t touch him. Give him a glass of water. Now, Mzytryk, tell us all you know about Gregor Suslev.”
“He’s … he’s a spy I think.”
“You’re not telling us the truth!” Hashemi roared at him, on cue. “Teach him a lesson!”
“No… no… noplease stopppppppppohGodplease stoppppp he’s he’s Petr Oleg Mzytryk my father my father… Suslev was his… his cover name in the in the Far East based out of Vlad … Vladivostok and and and another cover’s Brodnin… and and and he lives in in Tbilisi and he’s commissar and senior ad…
adviser Iranian affairs and con controller of Abdollah Abdollah Khan…”
“You’re lying again. How could you know such secrets? Teach him a les - ” “Please no I swearrrrrr I’m not lying I… read his secret dossier and I know it’s true… Brodnin was last and then he… Allah helppppp meeeeee…” Again he fainted again. Again they revived him.
“How does Abdollah Khan contact his controller?”
“He… my … they meet when whenever… some… sometimes at the… at the dacha sometimes at Tabriz…”
“Where in Tabriz?”
“At… at the Khan’s palace…”
“How do they arrange a meeting?”
“By code… coded telex from Tehran… from HQ…”
“What code?”
“The…G16…G16…”
“What’s Abdollah Khan’s code name?”
“Ivanovitch.”
“And his controller’s?” Armstrong was careful not to agitate the helpless man by reminding him he betrayed his father.
“Who were Brodnin’s contacts?”
“I… I don’t… I don’t rememb remember…”
“Help him remember!”
“Pleaseplease oh God oh Goddddddd wait let me think I can’t remember it was it was … wait he told me there were there were three… it was something like like like one of them was a color a color… wait, yes, Grey yes Grey that was it… and and an another was… and another was Broad something … Broad something… I think… you it was Man Broad something…” “Who else?” Armstrong asked, hiding his shock. “The third?” “I… I cant remem… no waitttttttt let me thinkkkk… there .vas there was anoth… told me there were he told me about… about four… one… one was… Ted… Ever… Ever something … Everly… and and another there were… if… I… pleaseeee if I think let me think and it was it was Peter… no Percy … Percy Smedley yes Smedey Tailler or Smidley…” The color left Armstrong’s face.
“… that was all that was all that he that he told me…” “Tell us all you know about Roger Crosse!”
No answer.
Through the mirror they saw the man writhing on the operating table, heaving against the wires as more pain was fed into him and, mixed with the moans, the words poured out again: “He he… stoppppppppppppp he was was head no assistant head of MI6 and almost our top English secret agent for for for… twenty or more years for us and… and Brodnin Brod my father found … found out he was a double… triple agent and ordered him Section 16/a… Crosse cheated us for years cheated cheated cheated…” “Who tipped Brodnin about Crosse?”
“Idontknow I swearldontknow I can’t know everything everything only what was in his dossier and and what he told me…”
“Who was Roger Crosse’s controller?”
“I don’t know, don’t know, how could I know I only know what I read secretly in my father’s doss… you’ve got to believe mmmmmmeeeeeee…” “Tell me everything in the dossier,” Hashemi said, as vitally interested now as Armstrong.
They listened, sifting the words from the screams. At times the almost incoherent mixture of Russian and Farsi as Rakoczy continued to bring forth more names and addresses and covers and ranks in answer to their questions, his memory prompted by new levels of pain, until he was spent and repeating and now confused, himself confused and no longer of value. Then mixed with the gibberish “… Pah… mud… Pah … mudi…”
“What about Pahmudi?” Hashemi said abruptly.
“I… he’s… helppp meeee…”
“What about Pahmudi? Is he a Soviet agent?”
Now only gibberish and weeping and confusion.
“Better give him a rest, Hashemi. His memory’s too good to blow - we can get what Pahmudi means tomorrow and go back over the stuff.” Armstrong was equally drained, secretly marveling at the knowledge Rakoczy had provided. “I advise a rest period, let him sleep for five hours, then we could begin again.”
In the chamber the two men were waiting for instructions. The doctor glanced at his watch. He had been at it for six hours without a break, his back ached and so did his head. But he was a long-term SAVAK specialist and very pleased that he had brought Rakoczy to the level of truth without drugs. Atheist son of a burnt father! he thought disgustedly.
“Let him sleep for four hours, then we begin again,” came over the loudspeaker.
“Yes, Colonel. Very good.” He peered at the eyes under the lids, then said carefully to his assistant who was a deaf-mute but could lip-read, “Leave him as he is - that’ll save time when we come back. He’ll need a wake-up injection.” The man nodded and, when the door was opened from the outside, both men left.
In the room behind the mirror the air was smoky and dry.
“What about Pahmudi?”
“He has to be connected with Mzytryk, Petr Oleg.” Armstrong was sifting all Rakoczy’s information, awed.
Hashemi took his eyes off the man lying on the table and switched off the cassette recorder, pressed the rewind button. In a half-opened drawer were seven other cassettes.
“Can I have copies?” Armstrong asked.
“Why not?” Hashemi’s eyes were red-rimmed and the stubble of his heavy beard showed darkly even though he had shaved only a few hours ago. “What was so important about Brodnin and those other names, Grey, Man Broad something, Ted Ever something, and Percy Smedley or Smidley Tailler?” Armstrong got up to ease the pain in his shoulders, also to give himself a little time to think. “Brodnin was a Soviet businessman, KGB, but a double agent for us. There was never a suspicion he was duping us. Man Broad something has got to mean Julian Broadhurst. We’ve never had anything on him, never a whisper, nothing. He’s a leading light of the Fabian Society, a highly respected member of the Labour party, in or out of the cabinet at his whim, adviser and confidant of prime ministers.” He added disgustedly, “Patriot.”