Persian Empire 1845

Chapter 491 National Security Bureau
With the Home Secretary resigning, many are speculating about who will take over the Ministry of the Interior. However, the subsequent policies have left many puzzled.

Firstly, to better maintain national security, the National Security Agency was established. Ostensibly, this agency will assist the Ministry of the Interior in maintaining order, but in reality, it will also oversee domestic and international intelligence networks, helping the country obtain intelligence or conduct clandestine activities.

As for the leader, his identity was still unknown. However, the Gulestan Palace welcomed another guest: Lieutenant General Hussein Hajizadeh, the current commander of the 7th Army Corps.

This general participated in the Crimean War, the Iran-Ottoman War, and the Iran-Russia conflict. He led from the front in the Battle of Tbilisi and nearly routed the Ottoman army in the Battle of Mosul. With his numerous military achievements, he was arguably one of the fastest-rising generals.

Inside the Peacock Hall, gilded wall lamps cast flickering shadows in the twilight. Lieutenant General Hussein Hajizad's boots clattered heavily on the Persian carpet. He stood ramrod straight, the stars on his epaulets gleaming under the lamplight, a silent reminder to everyone that this commander had held his ground in the Crimean blizzards and torn apart the Ottoman lines under the fire of Mosul. And now, he gazed at the lion's head signet ring in the Shah's hand, a symbol of absolute power.

“Hussein,” Naser al-Din Shah’s voice was deep and authoritative, “do you know why I have summoned you?”

Hajizad's gaze did not waver: "The Shah needs a new sword."

Shah smiled. “It’s not just a sword, but a pair of eyes that can see through the darkness, a hand that can choke the enemy before they even realize it.” He stood up, walked slowly to the window, and looked at the Tehran night. “The Ministry of the Interior is too bloated; the bureaucrats just pass the buck. The National Security Agency will surpass all of that.”

Hajizadeh was silent for a moment, then said in a hoarse voice, "Shah, I am a soldier, not a spy."

“That’s why I chose you.” Shah turned around, his gaze sharp as a knife. “I’ve seen too many intelligence chiefs who are so engrossed in scheming games that they can’t even distinguish friend from foe. But you—” He approached and patted the general on the shoulder. “In the Battle of Mosul, you were willing to sacrifice an entire battalion rather than abandon the wounded. The whole army was willing to die for you. Loyalty is more important than cunning.”

The sound of changing guard footsteps drifted in from outside the window, rhythmic and precise, like the footsteps of destiny. Hajizad took a deep breath: "If I accept, what will happen to the Seventh Legion?"

“Major General Ali will take over.” Shah picked up a classified document from the table. “As for you, you will be transferred from active duty tomorrow for ‘health reasons.’ Three weeks later, the National Security Agency will be established in the former General Post Office building—the basement there is conveniently converted into interrogation rooms.”

The general's knuckles turned slightly white. He understood all too well the weight of this position—the fates of countless people would rest in his hands, and too many secrets would be buried with him.

The gilded wall lamp cast varying shades of shadow on the lieutenant general's sharply defined face. "Shah," his voice seemed to be squeezed from the depths of his chest, "I need to know where the boundaries of this new front lie."

Naserdin turned and took a bottle of Armenian wine from a malachite-inlaid cabinet; the amber liquid rippled in a crystal glass. “The border?” he chuckled. “When your sword pierced the walls of Tbilisi, did you ever ask about the border?” He pushed the glass towards the general. “The National Security Bureau’s authority will be written into tomorrow’s Special Royal Decree—monitor suspicious individuals, infiltrate hostile forces, and, if necessary…” The bottom of the glass clinked crisply on the table. “Preemptive strikes.”

“Preemptive strike,” Hajizadeh repeated the word, “including against cabinet members?”

"Including cabinet members, from the Tabriz riots last year to now, every single one of them has the backing of other countries. They will be your key targets for surveillance."

Nasserdin produced a list, the first group to be monitored: seven high-ranking officials, three cabinet ministers, two members of the royal family, and thirteen tribal chiefs. Hajizadeh suddenly stood ramrod straight, the heels of his military boots clanging together: "If the evidence is conclusive?"

“Then let them pray and beg for mercy on their souls.” The Shah took an obsidian seal from a drawer and placed it on the list. “Remember, this agency is only accountable to me. Even if the Crown Prince asks, you should say you are in charge of postal security.”

The song of a nightingale drifted in from outside the window, making the room seem even more silent. Hajizadeh suddenly asked, "Why today? Because of the new Russian activities in Central Asia?"

A cold smile appeared on the Shah's lips: "Clever. But that's not all." He drew back the curtains, letting in moonlight. "Three days ago, the Ottoman Sultan's envoy secretly met with the British ambassador. Yesterday, spies in Constantinople obtained a secret document—about the Kurds."

"They want to dismantle the country..."

“So your first task,” the Shah’s voice suddenly became eerily soft, “is to find out who in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs leaked our troop deployment map in Mosul to the Ottomans.” He handed over a key. “There’s a green-painted safe in the basement of the General Post Office. The documents inside will tell you where to start.”

Hajizad took the key, the coldness of the metal seeping into his palm: "So, Shah, staffing?"

"The first batch of 200 elite troops will be drawn from the Guards and border reconnaissance units. The budget will come from the royal special account, 240,000 riyals per month." The Shah suddenly lowered his voice, "Paying special attention to recruiting those who are fluent in languages—Russian, English, Ottoman, and French."

"French?" The general looked up sharply.

The Shah tapped his fingertips lightly on the crystal glass. “Paris’s been quite lively lately. Our military attaché in France reported that an Iranian jeweler is frequently seen at the Tuileries Palace, and his sister happens to be the personal maid of Prince Edward’s new mistress.” He paused meaningfully. “The world is so small, isn’t it?”

Hajizadeh downed the drink in one gulp, the alcohol burning his throat: "I need three months to build the network."

“You only have six weeks.” The Shah suddenly pulled a copy of “The Rose Garden” from the bookshelf, turned to a page with dried flowers tucked inside, and said, “I need to know what deal the Ottomans and England have reached, the sooner the better.”

The sound of morning prayers from the minarets drifted from afar. Hajizadeh pulled on his military cap, the shadow obscuring his eyes: "One last question—what if the investigation points to members of the royal family?"

The Shah's expression froze. After a long while, he took off the lion head ring from his hand and placed it in the general's palm: "Then give it back to me, along with the finger on which you wore the ring."

(End of this chapter)