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of the world won’t even much know it’s goin’ on and sure as hell won’t give a damn.”
    Frank’s soup had turned cold. He thought of warming it up but knew it would still be tasteless. “I wish we had some booze.”
    “Capital idea,” said Gus. “The gentlemen retire to the drawing room for brandy and cigars.”
    “And discuss world affairs. Including the Gus Simpson World War III Protocol.”
    “Right,” said Gus. “I wish I could drink to that. You know, your old friend Pete Howard for years has been trying to convince our frozen-stiff cold warriors that nationalism has become more important and more of a threat than Communism. The old-school types think World War III will happen between us and the Commies, like their version of what went on in Vietnam. To the Viets, they fought a war for national independence, independence from the French, the Chinese, and then, of course, from us. But we didn’t want to hear that. For us it was a proxy war, just like Korea, us against the Soviets and Chinese Communists with the locals caught in the middle.”
    “Still doesn’t sound like a world war,” said Frank.
    “Not if you just look at Vietnam. But this world war goes on everywhere, from Northern Ireland to South Africa, from the Philippines to Central America, India and Pakistan, Afars and Issas, Hutus and Tutsis, Jews and Arabs in the Middle East, Arabs and Christians in the Sudan, all the time all over the fuckin’ world.”
    “What about here?”
    “Sure, here. I mean, I just got off the boat, but I got a hunch what the Iranians want is to run their own country. By now they must be gettin’ pretty tired of the game of nations bein’ played on their lawn. They had the Russians and the Brits tearin’ up their pea patch for more than a century, and the last thirty years or so they got our boots muddyin’ up the carpet. But I got a hunch our friends in Near East Division didn’t have much to say about that.”
    “Not hardly,” said Frank. “Our side just wants the military to take over the country and use the Iranian news media to wage a, you know, ‘win the hearts and minds of the people’ campaign.”
    “Like we did in Vietnam,” said Gus.
    “I didn’t say it was a good idea,” said Frank. “I just said that was the idea. The Shah sent word to the military to set up a joint committee. The acronym, God help us, is Jayface. The Joint Armed Forces Ad Hoc Committee on Enlightenment.”
    “God help us is right,” said Gus. “What’s Jayface supposed to do?”
    “Learn how to use the news media to enlighten the people about the wonderful role of the armed forces in preserving the nation.”
    “And killing its troublemakers?”
    “Maybe not too heavy on that,” said Frank. “Maybe we could cook up some worthwhile civic action programs. Publicize that.”
    Saying it out loud made him feel uneasy. Gus peered skeptically at him over the rims of his glasses.
    “As for why you and me, I guess we’re among the few guys still around the agency with real news media experience and who know how things work in Third World countries.”
    “More like how things don’t work,” said Gus.
    “Maybe more like that,” said Frank. “Anyway, the ambassador bought into the idea and sold it to the Shah. Seems the Shah had started to wonder if the Americans are still on his side. Jimmy Carter keeps talking about human rights and repression in Iran, and the Shah thinks this just encourages the opposition.”
    “I guess it might,” said Gus.
    “So maybe our real mission is to show the Shah that the U.S.A. wants to do what it can to help. The final word from one of the Near East guys was something like ‘just show the flag and don’t stir up any trouble.’”
    “Wish I’d known,” said Gus. “I would’ve brought a flag.”
    Frank wondered how much else he should tell Gus. About all that Pete Howard had said. About the Shah. And about what Pete had called “your one real mission,” Vassily