I had an appointment for an interview with a Persian rug merchant in Lisbon. I had read that Iranian intelligence services often used that business as a cover for their clandestine operations. Sweat was dripping down my forehead. Since the Iranian diaspora suspected the shop owner collaborated with the regime, I decided to test him. I wanted to see if he would lie to me. I asked him several questions for which I already had the answers. Above all, I wanted to see how he would react to the accusations leveled against him. To my astonishment — despite the firm, almost inquisitive posture I had adopted — I had the clear sense that he was telling the truth and that he was a man of integrity.

I spoke to him about a person I had suspected. His name is E.S. The moment I uttered the name, the door behind me opened. There he was, standing firm, looking at us with a sinister smile on his lips. It was as if mentioning his name was enough to summon him. One of two things: either it was........

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