47: Chapter 44 Two lines in the telegram

Late night, June 14, 1978, in the study of the Ahvaz Governors Mansion.

The telegram contained only two lines:

"Father is summoning the governors stationed abroad. Time: early July. Location: Tehran Palace. Additionally: Miller has been frequently entering and exiting the inner court recently, accompanied by three people who are not permanent embassy staff."

There was no signature, but Reza recognized the handwriting. Ali Reza had a habit when writing; his Persian cursive always dragged an extra curve to the right on the last letter, as if he had more to say.

Reza folded the telegram paper twice, held it over the oil lamp to ignite it, and watched it burn into a wisp of black ash before speaking:

"Hassan, sit."

Hassan sat down opposite him without any unnecessary movement. After following him for three years, he had learned one thing—when Reza said "sit," the words that followed needed to be heard while sitting and listening carefully, not the kind of command received while standing.

"Father is summoning the provincial governors," Reza said. "Early July, Tehran."

Hassan was silent for a moment: "Are you going?"

"I must go," Reza said. "Not going would be abnormal. A 'royal castoff' sent to a remote province who refuses a summons isn't showing backbone; it's telling everyone you have something to hide."

"But Miller is there too," Hassan said. "He brought three unfamiliar faces into the palace. What are those three people doing?"

"An assessment," Reza said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers on the table twice. "The Carter administration is under a lot of pressure lately. Domestic anti-war sentiment and human rights organizations are painting Iran as a despotic regime propped up by the United States, and the White House has started to re-evaluate its level of support for Pahlavi. Miller's visit to the palace this time is to bring Washington's questionnaire—they want to figure out if there is a 'backup option' within the Pahlavi royal family to replace the King. In case Pahlavi can't hold on, the United States needs a backup pawn in their hands."

Hassan slowly realized: "They are assessing… the collateral branches of the royal family."

"Including me," Reza said calmly. "Miller met me once in Ahvaz. At the time, he categorized me as a 'lecherous and greedy fool,' but after the Majnoon incident, a question mark was added to that assessment report. This time in the palace, he will likely seek out all the princes of appropriate age with some local influence to talk, conducting a new round of assessment."

"Then, Your Highness, going to Tehran…"

"It will be the perfect opportunity for him to complete this assessment." Reza's mouth curled slightly upward. "I want Miller to see with his own eyes a non-threatening Prince Reza—greedy, arrogant, completely uninterested in politics, just wanting to guard the oil fields in Khuzestan and count money, while occasionally playing petty tricks. He already has a basic impression of this persona, and this time I will solidify it."

"How will you play it?"

Reza thought for a moment: "When I enter the palace, I will bring a 'tribute gift list' filled with local specialties from Ahvaz and a few bottles of good wine, making me look both petty and sensible. When I see the King, I will complain that the infrastructure in Khuzestan is too poor and ask for money. When I see others in the royal family, I will brag about which actress I met at which nightclub recently. When I see Miller, I will take the initiative to approach him and ask him in broken English if he can help me get a few of the latest American home air conditioners, saying, 'Ahvaz is terribly hot in the summer.'"

Hassan was silent for two seconds, then let out a very short laugh, which he immediately suppressed.

"He will believe it," Hassan said.

"Of course he will," Reza said. "Because he has seen too many people like this. This is the most common specimen in the Middle East royal families of that era. His eyes have long been set by this template; he won't suspect someone who perfectly fits his expectations."

Reza stood up and paced the study twice.

"There is one more thing," he said. "Taking advantage of this opportunity to enter the palace, I want to see someone."

"Who?"

"Jafar Sharif-Emami."

Hassan was slightly stunned. He knew this name—the President of the Iranian Senate, an old minister of Pahlavi, who had always played the role of mediator between the royal family and religious forces, possessed an extremely keen political sense, and had standing among all parties in the country.

"Isn't he one of the King's men?" Hassan asked.

"He is the type of person who sells himself to the highest bidder," Reza said. "But he is smart enough to know what 'changing ships early' means. In the second half of 1978, he will be one of the last Prime Ministers appointed by Pahlavi, and then quickly liquidated after Ayatollah Khomeini returns to the country. In history, he was just a pawn, the kind that gets discarded after being used up."

"What does Your Highness want to use him for?"

"I don't need him to do anything," Reza said. "I just want him to see me, talk to me for ten minutes, and let him remember me. He hasn't reached his most desperate moment yet, but that moment will surely come. When that time comes, he will remember having met a collateral royal in the palace, a prince who said a few words that left a deep impression on him—at that time, he will come to me, instead of me going to him."

Hassan wrote all this down, word for word.

"Departure time?"

"June 28th," Reza said. "Arrive in Tehran two days early. First, visit the two people on the list recommended by Shapour who live in Tehran. Don't enter the palace; meet in private settings outside the palace, have tea, chat, don't discuss serious business—just let them see my face."

"What luggage should I bring?"

Reza thought for a moment: "That tribute gift list is real, prepare it. Also, have Karimi prepare a leather suitcase containing 500,000 US dollars in cash to handle any temporary needs that might arise in the palace. And—"

He paused.

"Find my oldest suit, the one where the thread on one of the cuffs has already come undone, and wear that one into the palace. A truly greedy prince wouldn't spend money on his own clothes."

Hassan stood up, walked to the door, stopped, and turned back: "Your Highness, there is one thing I have always wanted to ask."

"Ask."

"You met Shapour in Isfahan, met Iskandari today, and now you are about to enter the palace to lay out plans… Every step is paving the way for the future. But I want to know, in your plan, is there a point in time that you feel is the most dangerous?"

Reza was silent for a few seconds.

"Yes," he said. "It is the three months before the revolution is about to succeed. At that time, the old order will have collapsed, and the new order will not yet be established. Everyone will be scrambling for positions. It will be the most chaotic, the hardest to predict, and the easiest time to die. During those three months, any small mistake could cause all the previous plans to fall short of success."

"Then what should we do?"

"That is why all the pieces must be in place before those three months," Reza looked toward the darkness outside the window. "It's not about taking it one step at a time when the time comes; it's about having already won before then."