From the diary of Agent Sharp, a CIA operative planted under deep cover in Iran. This is a highly sensitive document. Please do not share with anyone, or else you’ll be dealing with Agent Sharp himself.
…I jumped today, damn chute didn’t open all the way but luckily I managed to aim for and land on one of the many donkeys that seem to be running around here. It’s funny because they look much smaller from the air…
…In the fall I knocked out a tooth but managed to get it fixed by a local dentist. I asked him not to use anesthesia so he put down the poker he uses for his little hibachi thing they use to make tea here. I paid him with my watch. To take my mind off of the pain I focused on his wife. I ended up with a gold tooth, so by my estimation I must be somewhere near Yazd.
…I left Yazd and made my way to Esfahan. I should be in Teheran soon for the arrival of “Special K” [Note to the reader: The several references to Special K seems to indicate a code name for Ayatollah Khomeini] I managed to hitch a ride on a truck carrying tomatoes. It overturned taking a curve too fast as a Benz 190 taxi car coming around the bend in the opposite direction was passing a car blind. Our driver was killed and passing motorists kept tossing coins at the body although no one made any attempt to remove it just yet. The local Gendarmerie gave me a lift into Esfahan. As I wait for my pronunciation to improve, I have been using the excuse that I am a deaf mute and from the region of Ardebil, no one seems to suspect.
…I entered the city of Esfahan on my way to Teheran and the rendezvous. I cannot understand the local dialect whatsoever and it seems that the people here are incessantly curious or suspicious of me because they keep asking me questions. Even their simple comments seem to be phrased in the form of a question. It may have something to do with a funny white substance the locals call “GAZ”. I must remember to have a sample analyzed by the lab in Langley. I am almost sure there is a narcotic ingredient because I find myself eating it constantly. I prefer the pistachio kind over the almond variety.
…I finally left Esfahan via a group of soldiers returning to their barracks after leave. They mentioned we would be stopping in Shiraz first. By my estimation I am almost in Teheran! One of the soldiers keeps holding my hand. I am not sure but I think it may have something to do with telling him I was from [censored].
…We spent the night in a small town called “Semirom” last night. I don’t want to travel with the soldiers anymore and found out rather painfully last night that I should not use the [censored] Qazvin cover again. My back is killing me and I find it hard to sit for any length of time. Semirom is a beautiful town built into the side of a mountain, each terrace house built on the roof of the house below. It reminds me of the adobe villages in New Mexico. There seemed to be some sort of funeral last night but the tradition here is that everyone in the village wears white and the whole town has a huge celebration with music and dancing and feasting. Luckily they did not find out that I killed the man who died as he startled me as I slept. There was no choice, I had to do it because during my sleep I had apparently been talking and he woke me asking what “Egg McMuffin” meant. He seemed kind enough. I did not particularly enjoy killing him.
…After hiding from the soldiers in an apple orchard, I managed to join up with a group of Qashqaie nomads heading toward Teheran. They said they would be stopping in Firooz Abad first. I’m almost there!
..We made camp on the top of a mountain valley today. It reminds me a lot of Colorado and even though it is still summer there is snow on the peaks which produces the water supplied by fresh springs. I met one of the tribe’s Khans today. He spoke perfect English and thinks I am a Peace Corps teacher on my way to Ahvaz to teach English in a school. He insisted on taking me there himself to practice his English. He assured me that Ahvaz is just behind one of the large mountains looming around us in this valley.
…It has been three days and the Khan still insists that Ahvaz is just behind the next mountain. He also does not stop talking about his days at UCLA. I may have to kill him. It is nice to be driving in a Range Rover though. I have found what appears to be another narcotic substance. This is some sort of root used as an ingredient to common yogurt called “Kangar Mast” which I have been unable to stop eating since we left Semirom. It is especially good with fresh steaming hot bread.
…I finally had to kill the Khan today. I made it look like another car accident. I am now on foot and I am also out of coins. I hated doing it because I am now also out of Mast. Thank goodness for the Gaz. I find myself craving hot tea for some reason. This place is getting to me.
…I fear I may not be as close to Teheran as I had hoped. I arrived into Ahvaz today and realized I have been traveling further to the south than I had planned. I have since turned my map the right side up and feel confident. I will double my efforts to get there in time for the rendezvous. The locals tell me that Abadan is the best way to get to Teheran.
…I jumped a train to Abadan and upon arriving in the city realized I am still heading in the wrong direction. I am now in the Gulf! I could see the USS Nimitz from shore. It hurt being so close yet unable to be with the boys. I am positive I smelled bacon blowing off the sea. I must remember to tell the folks back at the stealth lab that this is a serious problem.
…I have finally gotten my bearings straight! I was startled on the street by a young lady wearing a chador. She helped me set a plan to get to Teheran. I told her I was a student from America on a tour of Iran. She bought it and took me to meet her parents. From what I can see she is very attractive and I find myself drawn to her eyes and large round [censored]. It seems they like me and the father kept mentioning a word I must remember to get the translation for: “Agd”.
…Scratch the word translation request. I realized that I had unintentionally agreed to the proposal and unfortunately slept with Nooshin before understanding what Agd actually meant. I thought to kill the whole family. I took them to the movies instead planning to ditch them under the guise of going to the restroom. As I left I saw what appeared to be military men lock the doors and set fire to the place. I could not stop them.
…I spent the night in a sugar cane field outside of Shooshtar. The tall fields gave me good cover and the sweet cane a food source.
…I stopped off in Dezful a large farming community. They must be using some sort of advanced agricultural techniques because the produce is unusually large. The onions are the size of volleyballs and the asparagus reminds me of a Polish dog. I must tell the boys in Langley to arrange to have the Iraqis target this area in particular next year.
…Outside of Dezful I stopped at a small roadside restaurant called “Kot Abdollah”. I could not resist because of the incredible smell of roasting chicken. They take a young chicken, slit it up the middle, spread eagle it and throw it on the grill. I have never tasted anything so succulent and tasty. I was awakened by the proprietor asking me what Cheryl Tiegs meant. I resisted the temptation to kill him. The chicken saved his life.
…I finally made it into Teheran! I was trapped in one of the many orange Taxis for 6 hours as we drove around the city. I could not get out because I was sitting next to the driver and people kept getting in each time I attempted to get out. They kept yelling “Mostagim” and getting in. I was afraid for my life for the first time.
…I finally got out of the taxi near the Shahyad monument. I hope my rendezvous will still make it. There seems to be a large crowd of people forming. They are chanting “Barg Bar Shah” which is disconcerting since the translation means “Filet Mignon the Shah” . We had been getting reports of dissention but this could be serious.
…I’ve been shot. It’s only a small wound in my side so it should be fine. I was milling about Teheran University when suddenly troops appeared out of nowhere and began firing on the crowd. I realized they had been gathering to protest something. I fear we do not know enough about this country. Although the General in charge now seems to be kind enough. I have not been able to locate my contact so I went bowling at the Bowling Club.
…I found that I could hang out at the Ice Palace and no one seems to care. I hadn’t been skating since that summer in Minnesota. I am still waiting for my contact. I’ll try the Goldis Cinema. My wound is not getting better as I had hoped.
…I saw the latest James Bond movie and I’m sorry but Bond is a fake! Spying is not like that at all. My side is killing me. No luck making my contact. I think there is no choice. I will have to go to the embassy. Thank God, I’ll be back in Virginia soon enough…
This was the last entry made to the diary. Although we have recently learned of another diary which has since made its way to us written in a similar style which indicates the writer may still be in Iran. We will publish excerpts from this diary in the future.