Gideon's Spies полностью

After Bazoft was released from prison, he began to suffer bouts of depression, which he treated with homeopathic medicines. This background had been unearthed by the Mossad katsa. Later an English writer, Rupert Alison, a conservative member of Parliament and a recognized expert on intelligence recruiting methods, would say a personality like Bazoft’s made him a prime target for Mossad.

A year after they had first met, Al-Hibid had recruited Bazoft. How and where this was done has remained unknown. The extra money would have certainly been a consideration for Bazoft, still short of cash. And, for someone who so often viewed life through a dramatic prism, the prospect of living out another of his dreams—to be a spy in the tradition of another foreign correspondent he admired, Philby, who had also once worked for The Observer, as a cover for his work as a Soviet spy—could also have been a factor.

More certain, Bazoft began to carve a small reputation for himself; what he lacked in writing style, he made up with solid research. Everything he unearthed in Iran was passed over to the London katsa. As well as stories for The Observer, Bazoft was also being given assignments by Independent Television News and Mirror Group Newspapers. At the time the foreign editor of the Daily Mirror was Nicholas Davies. In his safari-style suit, Davies might have stepped out of the pages of Evelyn Waugh’s Scoop. He had a reporter’s gift for gossip and an ability to hold his drink, and was always ready to buy his round. His north-of-England accent had all but gone: colleagues said he had spent hours perfecting the dulcet tone he now used. Women found appealing his easy good manners and the commanding way he could order dinner and select a good bottle of wine. They loved his been-there-done-that mentality, the way he spoke of faraway places as if they were part of his private fief. Late at night over another drink, he would hint at adventures that cynics said was simply Nick romancing.

Not for a moment did anyone—his colleagues at the Mirror, his wide circle of friends outside the newspaper world, even his wife, Janet, an Australian-born actress who had starred in the highly successful BBC television series Doctor Who—know that Nahum Admoni had authorized Davies should be recruited.

Davies would always insist that even if he had “been approached,” he had never served as a Mossad agent and that his presence in the hotel lobby on that April Friday afternoon was purely as a journalist watching the arms dealers going about their work. He could not later recall what he and Bazoft had spoken about while in the lobby, but said, “I imagine it was about what was going on.” He refused to elaborate, a position he would steadfastly maintain.

The pair had traveled to Iraq with a small group of other journalists (among them the author of this book on assignment for the Press Association, Britain’s national wire service). On the flight from London, Davies had regaled the party with ribald stories about Robert Maxwell, who had finally bought Mirror Newspapers. He called him “a sexual monster with a voracious appetite for seducing secretaries on his staff.” He made it very clear he was close to Maxwell, though: “Captain Bob is sheer hell to be with, he knows I know too much to sack me.” Davies’s claim that he personally was fireproof because of what he knew about the tycoon was dismissed by his listeners as hyperbole.

On the flight, Farzad Bazoft was quiet, saying little to the others, confining himself to talking to the flight attendants in Farsi. At Baghdad Airport his language skills helped to ease the translation difficulties with the Iraqi “minders” assigned to the party. In a stage whisper, Davies said they were really security agents. “The dozy buggers wouldn’t recognize a spy if he was pointed out,” Davies said prophetically.

At the Palestine-Meridian, the man from the Mirror informed his traveling companions he was only there because he was “bloody bored with London.” But he made it clear he had no intention of following the official itinerary, which included a visit to the Basra battlefield, where the Iraqi army was eager to display the spoils of war after its victory over the Iranian forces. Bazoft said he didn’t think the trip south to the gulf would interest his newspaper.

That April Friday evening in 1988, having spent hours in the hotel lobby watching the arms dealers come and go, and sharing several conversations with Davies, Farzad Bazoft ate alone in the hotel coffee shop. He declined an invitation to join other reporters from London, saying he had to “think through my schedule.” During the meal he was called to take a telephone call in the lobby. He returned a few minutes later looking pensive. Having ordered dessert, he abruptly left the table, ignoring ribald jokes from some of the reporters that he had a girl stashed away.