Persian Empire 1845

Chapter 498 Intelligence, Error

"Madam, look, these are the newest pieces of jewelry!"

Majid showed a pile of gold and silver jewelry to the wife of the Minister of the Navy. The Persian-style necklaces and earrings pleased the lady and the other ladies.

"Very good, I'll take all of these."

He bought everything after just a glance; Majid hadn't seen such a good guest in a long time. He quickly had the items packed and delivered to his wife's bedroom, while he went to ask the Minister of the Navy for payment.

Without batting an eye, the Minister of the Navy and Colonies, Charles Rigo de Genouil, handed over a check for 10 francs.

"Thank you very much, sir," Majid said with a smile as he pocketed the check.

"Hmph! What Madam wanted has arrived, but where is what I asked for?"

Majid took out an envelope and handed it to the other person. "Please take a look."

Genouf opened a corner of the book; the title was "Iran's Future Colonial Strategy in Africa." He was pleased, dismissed Majid, and began to read.

It claims that Iran has discovered a route to the lost golden city of Timbuktu, which only requires starting from Ottoman Tripoli, passing through the "friendly" Fezan region, circumnavigating the "safe" Tibesti Mountains, and finally crossing the Niger River.

The Minister of the Navy slammed his fist on the table and decided to go to the palace immediately to report to the Emperor. If they could find Timbuktu, they could take a big step forward in their African colonization.

Majid returned to his jewelry store, where there were more than a dozen people at the counter. He saw someone sitting there and immediately knelt down.

"Sir, I have handed it over as you instructed. Please... please have mercy and let us go."

The man opposite him stood up, patted his face with a document, and said, "If that's the case, why did you commit treason? Since you realized the problem, you should have reported it immediately instead of continuing to work. It's already a mercy of the Shah to spare your life."

Majid never imagined he would one day become a traitor; he had only come to Paris for wealth to open a jewelry store. Because he spoke well, he gradually became acquainted with the people at the Iranian embassy in France.

Just as those days were passing, the French came knocking on his door, dragged him to jail without a word, and gave him a severe beating. The reason given was that he was selling counterfeit goods.

He swears to God, all his goods are the best; how could they be fake? This must be a frame-up, and he wants to protest. But the French won't give him the chance.

Later, having no other choice, he confessed. Then another Frenchman came along and offered to make a deal: for every item he retrieved from the Iranian embassy, ​​he would receive at least 100,000 francs—wasn't that more lucrative than selling jewelry?
Majid knew this was treason, but he had no choice. Moreover, the French were using his confession as leverage; if he didn't comply, his family would face public condemnation. Since November of last year, Majid had used his connections to obtain more than twelve documents from the Iranian embassy, ​​selling them to France and Italy, profiting over 3 million francs, until his crimes were exposed.

The once dazzling lights in the jewelry store now stung his eyes, and the exquisitely crafted pieces reflected a cold light in the glass cases, like countless mocking eyes.

“Raise your head.” The man—Ibrahim, the head of the National Security Service’s Paris station—speaks without a trace of emotion. Majid straightened up cautiously, but dared not meet the man’s hawk-like eyes. Safawi slowly unfolded a file; the parchment was densely covered with surveillance records:
"On November 7th last year, you gave jewelry worth 150,000 riyals to the Minister of War's mistress; on January 15th this year, you 'accidentally' met a Russian military attaché in the gardens of Versailles; last Wednesday... you even hid the naval base's tide watch in the packaging box of a pearl necklace."

The jeweler's lips trembled: "I...I was...I was coerced."

“Ha! That sounds nice,” Ibrahim chuckled. “But you’re not only colluding with France, but Britain and Italy have also bought intelligence from you. What, Italy coerced you too?”
But I also have to thank you, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to find the mole hidden within the government.

The staff at the Iranian embassy have been completely replaced; they will either return to Tehran to face a life of darkness or live a life of seclusion underwater with fish. The Iranian ambassador to France has temporarily suspended all duties due to "illness," and the government is reconsidering and selecting a replacement.

Meanwhile, Genuil paced anxiously before the gilded gates of the Tuileries Palace. The head guard, his face stern, repeated, "His Majesty is receiving the Prussian ambassador." A moment later, the Emperor himself summoned him to the Hall of Mirrors.

"Timbaktu?" Napoleon III tapped his fingers lightly on the gilded armrest, his gaze sweeping over the meticulously forged map. Chief of the General Staff Leboeuf immediately stepped forward: "Your Majesty, this route passes through Ottoman territory, I'm afraid..."

"Foolish!" the emperor suddenly slammed his fist on the table. "This is precisely our excuse to intervene in North Africa!" He excitedly strolled to the huge map of Africa. "Let the Ottomans 'invite' us to maintain order in Fezan, and then," the red wine swirled in the glass like blood about to spill, "we'll seize control of the Niger River basin!"

A greedy glint gleamed in Genui's eyes: "Your Majesty is wise! Just send a brigade of North African cavalry, under the guise of a 'scientific expedition'."

“No, be even bolder.” Napoleon III suddenly turned, spilling wine on the map. “Have the marines disguised as caravan guards, equipped with the latest field guns—claiming it’s to guard against Tuareg bandits.” His finger traced the Sahara. “Once we’ve established a foothold in Timbuktu, British dominance in the Mediterranean will be over.”

"Hahaha! The British are sure to stumble. Execute it immediately!"

At Napoleon III's command, the French expeditionary force began to be assembled, but no one noticed that the newly appointed court secretary, who had been standing in a corner, quietly slipped out of the hall. Two hours later, an encrypted telegram was sent from a telegraph office near Notre Dame Cathedral, passing through Marseille and Alexandria, and finally arriving at the headquarters of the National Security Agency in Tehran. Hajizadeh read the translated telegram, a cold smile playing on his lips: "The French have taken the bait." He turned to his assistant and ordered, "Notify our 'merchants' in Tripoli to prepare to receive the French exploration team that is about to 'get lost'."

Who would have thought that Majid would back down so quickly? They thought he could hold out for a while until the French realized something was wrong and then launch another plan, but as soon as Majid saw them, he told them everything.

Sigh, if you have that kind of guts, you shouldn't be passing on intelligence!

(End of this chapter)