Hitler's peace

On Wednesday morning the wrestler took Oster to the main entrance to the bazaar, where they were to meet one of the German agents in Teheran. Oster wore a dark suit and a cap. Since most of the men in the city wore European-style trousers, short coats, and Pahlavi hats, he didn’t look out of place. Oster knew very little about his contact, Lothar Schoellhorn, other than that he had once run a boxing academy in Berlin and, for a while before his posting to Persia, had acted as an assassin for the Abwehr. Oster had half expected to meet a thug, but instead he found himself with a man of considerable learning and culture who held strong views on his adopted city. From the bazaar gate, the three men walked north, up Ferdosi Street in the direction of the British embassy.

“It’s a disappointing place, Teheran,” said Schoellhorn. “From an architectural point of view, at least. The modern part is rather French, and, as a result, somewhat pretentious. Like a poor man’s version of the Champs-Elysees. Even the Mejlis-that’s the Iranian Parliament-is not all that distinguished. Only the bazaar retains something of the old, absolutely Oriental Teheran. Everything else has been modernized into mediocrity, I’m afraid. There’s the odd mosque, of course. But that’s about all.

“In winter it’s much too cold, and in summer it’s much too hot, and for this reason, the British and the Americans each maintain two embassies. Right now the British are in their winter embassy, which you shall see presently. It’s a rather ramshackle building that was constructed, poorly, by the Indian Public Works Department many years ago. Trusting Persians as little as they do, the British still maintain a small escort of Indian infantry for the ambassador’s protection. Here, and at the summer embassy in Gulheh.” Schoellhorn smiled. “It wouldn’t do to attack the wrong embassy.”

Oster glanced around, nervous that someone might overhear.

“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about, my friend. It’s true, the city is crawling with NKVD agents, but frankly a blind man could see them coming. None of them speak Farsi, and even in their zone of occupation to the north of the city, they employ no Persian police or gendarmerie. Which makes them less than effective. Elsewhere, law and order are the province of the British and the Americans. We shall have to be a little careful of the British, I think. But the Americans are wholly ignorant of the Persians and only manage to keep order by virtue of the fact that they are not yet as hated as the Russians or the British. The fellow in charge of the American police, a general named Schwarzkopf, used to narrate a popular cops-and-robbers program on radio-can you believe it? This same Schwarzkopf was the Dummkopf who led the investigation into the Lindbergh kidnapping case, and you will perhaps recall what a mess was made there-and how a German was framed for the child’s murder.”

Schoellhorn slowed a little as they came in sight of a large barrier covered in barbed wire that prevented further progress. Behind the barrier were two armored cars and several Indian troops wearing British uniforms.

“Beyond the barrier and those trees are the British and the Russian embassies,” said Schoellhorn. “They are separated by a narrow side street, but in the wall of the British legation is a narrow wicker gate where a sentry is usually posted at night and which presents your best point of entry. A map of the British compound will be provided, but on the other side of the wall you will find lots of trees and bushes which will provide ample opportunity for cover. There’s a long balustraded verandah on the eastern part of the legation compound, and very likely the Big Three will be immediately behind the French windows. To the west are stables and outhouses accommodating not horses but troops guarding the legation. As I said, they’re Indians mostly. Or, to be more precise, Sikhs. They’re courageous enough, no question. But I gather they’re none too fond of bombardment, or so a friend of mine in the British Public Relations Bureau here in Teheran would have me believe. There was a bomb blast in the city a few months ago and the Sikhs legged it, I’m told. The minute our bombers drop their ordnance, they’ll probably make a run for it.”

“What about the Russian legation?” asked Oster.

“Crawling with Popovs. One in every tree. Even the waiters are NKVD. Floodlights, dogs, machine-gun nests. The building has just been subject to an extensive renovation. A new air-raid bunker, it seems.” Schoellhorn lit a cigarette. “No, it’s just as well your target is the British legation. From the look of things, I doubt Churchill even considers the possibility that he might be assassinated. Still, there’s one thing about the British legation that makes it the safest place in Teheran.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”