Welch, D [Shadow People 02] Shadow Spies

by Doug Welch

  “I fear my time is limited Captain. I’d need a guide, someone to provide transportation and show me the sights.”

  Kázim reached into his shirt pocket and proffered a business card.

  Edward examined it. His name, rank and telephone number were embossed on it, both in English and Persian script.

  “That can be arranged. Ring me at my number and I’ll see to it.”

  Edward hadn’t learned much from the time spent on the tour and at the liaison meeting. All of the Iranian officers had seemed reluctant to inadvertently comment even though Commander Rice had deftly slipped in the loaded comments Edward had prepared about the Shah and the government.

  It seemed as though the junior officers distrusted the senior Iranian officers. In itself, it revealed a subtle hint that a problem existed, but it was too tenuous to include in a report. Perhaps Kázim could fill in the blank pieces.

  “I’m afraid, Captain, we must fly back to Tehran in the morning.”

  Kázim rubbed his neatly trimmed beard. “We can take my automobile. I believe I have the afternoon free.”

  Edward hesitated. MI5 operatives had been known to vanish in troublesome countries and a convenient accident could leave him dead or at best injured. He wondered if the Iranian military had been alerted to his mission. Could they know he was sent here to spy upon them? The complex arrangements for this contrived military liaison meeting could have easily been penetrated and if so, they would suspect his role in it.

  In the end, he decided it didn’t matter. To accomplish his goals, he needed to know what Captain Kázim knew or suspected.

  “Well as it so happens, I too have the afternoon off. I’d be pleased to accept your offer.”

  * * *

  Kázim collected Edward at the front of the hotel where all of the Embassy’s military officers stayed when they visited Tabriz. Entering the car, he settled back in the passenger seat. The weather had turned crisp so he wore a fleece lined aviator’s jacket over a sweater. Kázim was also dressed in civilian attire.

  “So, where’re we going, Captain?”

  “Behnam's House –it’s actually a university, but it’s a fine example of Old Persian architecture. I think you’ll appreciate it.”

  They’d driven in uncomfortable silence for a while so Edward started the conversation.

  “What’s your first name Captain?”

  “Sanjar, it means emperor in Farsi. Can I call you Edward?”

  “Of course.”

  Sanjar cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re wondering, Edward, why I’ve invited you on this trip.”

  Edward chuckled. “The thought has occasionally crossed my mind.”

  Out of the corner of his eye Edward saw Sanjar smile. “Well other than the fact that my superiors think I can find out who you are and what your purpose is in Iran, I have other motivations.

  “And those would be what, precisely?”

  Sanjar frowned. “I’ve only been a Baha’i for two years, but during that time I’ve found them to be the most peaceful, loving people I’ve ever met. They don’t deserve to be treated like they’ve been in the past by the Muslim majority in Iran.”

  Edward shrugged “I don’t quite see how I can be of help, Sanjar. Surely the Shah’s government wouldn’t allow any atrocities. Hasn’t the Shah decreed religious tolerance?”

  “Yes, but therein lies the problem. I fear that the Shah’s rule rests on quicksand. Without the Shah all of those protections could vanish in a day.”

  “Why are you telling me this, Sanjar? Surely you can’t expect me to do anything about it.”

  Sanjar hesitated. “That depends on just exactly why you’re here Edward. If you are as you appear to be, then I’m wasting my time. If not, I have a window of opportunity to speak to someone who might be able to help. Do you know that Baha’is believe all men and women to be equal? Did you know that all Baha’is are required to obey the laws of their governments? These things are good for Iran, but most Iranian Muslims oppose them. I love my country, Edward and I don’t want to see it dissolve into chaos. Not to mention the harm it could do to my friends and family.”

  Edward thought about it. Sanjar represented an opportunity to learn about both the attitude of the Muslims toward the Shah and the government and provide insight into the mind-set of the Iranian military. But how much could he trust him?

  “Alright, Sanjar, just for argument’s sake, let’s suppose I’m here as a fact-finder, someone trying to assess how stable your government truly is. How could a person like that help you?”

  Sanjar sighed. “We can help each other, Edward. I can give you reasons why your government needs to support the Shah and you can use that information to convince your government to help.”

  “I hardly think it’s necessary, Sanjar. The Americans are practically cheek by jowl with the Shah and Her Majesty’s Government will likely join forces with the Americans. I don’t see how that can be changed.”

  Sanjar shook his head. “Most influential Iranians are old enough to remember the last time the Americans and British interfered with the internal affairs of Iran and they’ve never forgiven it. They see CIA and MI5 involvement in everything the Americans or the British do or say.”

  Edward knew what Sanjar referred to, the secret overthrow, over twenty years ago, of the last popularly elected Prime Minister.

  It was accomplished with the support of both the CIA and MI5. The motivations of the people who’d ordered it were due to fears generated by the Cold War and perceived communist threats. Regardless of the reasons, it still remained a resentful memory with many Iranians.

  Edward slumped deeper in his seat. “I think we’ve a lot to talk about, Sanjar...”

  Chapter 6

  Tehran – Winter 1977

  Dorri seethed over her confinement. Although she understood the reasons behind it, she was rapidly losing patience.

  It’d been months since she’d been at the Embassy reception and she missed Edward like she missed breathing.

  A hunger for his mouth on her lips, his hands caressing her and lifting her to new erotic heights, filled her with longing. If it hadn’t been for her father, she would’ve been with him, glorying in both during any moment they could steal.

  Now she was cloistered, forbidden to see or speak to him.

  She knew now, the passion that Queen Soraya had felt and why she hadn’t remarried, because without Edward, life seemed devoid of meaning.

  Her roiling emotions carried over to the relationship she’d previously enjoyed with her family, particularly her father.

  “If this keeps up much longer, father, I’m moving to Great Britain, regardless of the consequences.”

  He fluttered his hands. “Please, Dorri. Give me a little more time. The fact that you were seen with the Englishman caused some problems. They want assurances that you remain unsullied or they’ll not cooperate.”

  Unfortunately the betrothal had been agreed upon before the Shah had decreed an end to child bride arrangements and breaking the contract required delicacy and skillful negotiations. The complications resulted from the fact that she was betrothed to one of the Seven and contracts with the Houses were not easy to sever. She thought they played a dangerous game, using her as a pawn to be bartered and at the last minute withdrawn, and she’d told her father as much.

  At worst it would’ve meant an exchange of her virginity and the production of an heir, then a quick divorce, and she would’ve gained her freedom. If she hadn’t had the experiences she’d had in America she might have accepted it as her fate but when she’d returned to Iran after graduation, she’d informed her father that she wouldn’t accept an arranged marriage under any circumstances. She had no intention of seeing it through and every intention of leaving Iran and the Houses behind.

  She knew if her mother had been alive to prevent it, it would never have happened. Perhaps that was the reason she’d sent her and Shalizeh to England to acquire dual citizenship. Fortunately she kept
her British passport well hidden or her father might have confiscated it. The problem was that no one would aid her in escaping her confinement.

  Her only ally was Shalizeh and the last time she’d talked to her, the conversation had been less than satisfying, almost cryptic. She’d broken down and dissolved, weeping before her sister.

  “Don’t cry, Dorri. It will be better, you’ll see.”

  Dorri controlled herself and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I can’t help it, Shalizeh. I miss him so much. I need to see him again. But Father has given orders that I’m not allowed to leave the house.”

  “Trust in God, Dorri, He can do wonderful things, sometimes amazing things. In fact He’s working for you as we speak.”

  “You’re talking nonsense, Shalizeh. If God cared about me, then why am I being punished? I did nothing to incur his wrath.”

  “No, Dorri, you’re not being punished you’re being rewarded. I see good things in your future, in fact, sooner than you think.”

  * * *

  Edward paused at the entrance to the Embassy gate and lit a Benson and Hedges, drawing the nicotine laden smoke into his lungs. He gazed at the snow capped mountains bordering Tehran, and shivered when the icy wind penetrated his trench coat.

  I hope Sanjar gets here soon or I’ll freeze to death.

  Briefly glancing at the Embassy walls, which stretched for an entire city block, he scanned the snow bound street for his ride. As he waited, his mind turned to the purpose of this meeting and the chance encounter that had occasioned it.

  His involvement with Sanjar had developed into a friendship. Using the cover of negotiations for the purchase of aeroplanes, they’d met often and he found he liked the tall air force officer. True to his word Sanjar had been a wellspring of information and Edward had revised his report to the Ministry.

  However, this occasion was not business. Sanjar had invited him to a religious event, something called a ‘feast’. Sanjar assured him that although the occasion would likely be accompanied by food, the primary purpose was to read from religious writings and commune with other Baha’is. It sounded benign but Edward remained apprehensive.

  In a while, he spied Sanjar’s motorcar making its cautious way down the street. It stopped in front of the Embassy and Edward gratefully sat in its warm interior.

  Sanjar grinned. “Sorry I’m late. The streets are treacherous. I had to drive slowly.”

  Edward relaxed in the seat. “Just get us to our destination in one piece. Speaking of destinations, where are we going?”

  Sanjar still maintained his enigmatic grin. “A house in Northern Tehran. Trust me. I know you’ll like it.”

  The drive through the city was slow and tedious, but true to his word, Sanjar arrived with both of them intact and breathing.

  The house was impressive. Although not as grand as the other houses Sanjar had helped him tour in Tabriz, it obviously belonged to a wealthy family. They waded through slush and snow to the entrance and were admitted to the warm interior by a servant who took their coats and scarves. The servant led them to a set of double doors.

  Sanjar gripped Edwards arm to stop him.

  “First, I want you to meet my wife and her sister.”

  Edward allowed Sanjar to guide him through the room and crowd of people, toward the far corner.

  Sanjar stopped in front of two women who sat on a divan.

  “Edward this is my wife, Shalizeh and her sister –”

  Edward didn’t allow him to complete his introduction. His voice hissed only one word. “Dorri”

  He warred with his emotions. Swaying forward, he wanted nothing more than to rush to her and feel her body in his arms. He desperately needed to immerse himself in the taste of her lips and breathe once again her erotic scent, but the occasion and custom and the full attention of the people surrounding him held him in check. He stared at her, knowing it might be considered rude, but he was powerless to prevent it.

  Her violet eyes glistened and she smiled at him through her tears.

  “Edward?”

  He grinned and nodded. She rose from the divan and breathed the word again. “Edward?”

  With an enormous amount of self control, he simply took her hand.

  “Miss Baraghani.”

  * * *

  Edward didn’t pay much attention to the proceedings which consisted of some prayers and people reading from books written by one of the Baha’i holy men, because he sat on cushions beside Dorri the whole time, close, but far enough away for decorum’s sake. Regardless of the distance, it was as if an invisible thread linked them. He smelled her scent and his arms ached with the tension of wanting to hold her again.

  He spied Sanjar and Shalizeh smiling at them and whispering to each other and he answered their smiles with a grin of his own.

  After the prayers he helped Dorri to her feet. The contact of her hand with his was electric. He felt it tingle along his whole arm. Still holding his hand, she led him to a table where fruit juices, coffee, tea and some pastries were laid out. They selected some of the refreshments and then moved to a corner of the room.

  Edward stared at her. “Do you have any idea of how desperately I’ve missed you?”

  She refused to look at him. “Don’t stare at me like that, Edward, or I’ll start to cry.” She briefly glanced at him then turned back to stare at the crowd. “If it’s nearly as much as I’ve missed you, it must have been unbearable.”

  At that moment Sanjar and Shalizeh joined them.

  Shalizeh took Dorri’s free hand. “See, sister. I told you, God looked after you.”

  Dorri nodded and tears spilled from her eyes. “It’s a miracle.” She glanced again at Edward. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “And I, you,” he said. “Now that I know where you live, Dorri, I’m not letting go of you.”

  Sanjar cleared his throat. “Excuse us, women, Edward and I have someone to meet.” Sanjar grabbed Edward by the arm, leaned toward him and whispered. “Say nothing of Dorri until I’ve had the chance to talk to you later.” He looked at him. “Do you understand?”

  Edward nodded and Sanjar guided him, still holding on to his arm. They stopped before a slim older man. He had the most piercing grey eyes Edward had ever seen, they seemed to bore right though him. The man’s hair matched the color of his eyes and his dark dusky skin told of his Persian heritage.

  Sanjar spoke in Farsi. “Father, I would like to introduce my friend, Edward Rowan.” Then he switched to English. “Edward this is my father-in-law, Massoud Baraghani, Shalizeh’s father.”

  Edward decided his pretense had reached a crossroad and there was nothing to be gained from subterfuge so he spoke in flawless Farsi. “I am honored by your kind invitation and the hospitality of your house. May God praise it and all who abide in it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sanjar start and his eyes narrow. He ignored it and just bowed slowly while extending his hand to Massoud.

  Cautiously, Massoud gripped his hand, testing it, and Edward responded firmly.

  Massoud’s eyes focused on him. “Mister Rowan, Sanjar has spoken of you often. It seems your name has become a household word with my family.”

  Edward returned his stare. “It is my hope that it was spoken without rancor.”

  “Rancor? No, let us say...with difficulty. Yes, –difficulty and many tears, tears that caused me much distress.”

  “Tears can sometimes mean joy, especially when accompanied by joyous reunions.”

  Massoud didn’t reply at first, studying Edward. “Perhaps you should visit again, Mister Rowan, and we can discuss the philosophies of joy, love and sadness.”

  “As God wills it, so it will be, Mister Baraghani, may I call upon you?”

  Massoud handed Edward his card and spoke in English. “I think that would be a good idea, Mister Rowan, call me at that number.”

  Edward knew he faced a shrewd man. A man who held the keys to what Edward desired most in life, his daughter Dorri. He
’d need to keep his wits if he wished to barter with this old man.

  On the way back across the room to rejoin Shalizeh and Dorri, Sanjar whispered, “It seems we have more to discuss, Edward, than just Dorri.”

  Edward grinned at him. “You didn’t think I’d go into battle with only one arm did you?”

  When they rejoined the women Sanjar spoke first.

  “I think Edward has something to say to you, Dorri. –Edward?”

  Edward shrugged then spoke quietly in Farsi to her. “Your lips taste like the finest wine and your eyes sparkle like the morning dew on blades of grass. Your neck –”

  She quickly placed her fingers on his lips to silence him and blushed. “Stop, Edward someone might hear you.”

  He smiled at her. “There’s only one who needs to hear when I speak words of love, Dorri, and that person is you.”

  She trembled and her eyes began to tear. “Love?”

  Edward switched to English. “Yes, Dorri, I love you. I’m in love with you.”

  Her lower lip trembled. She covered her mouth with her hand and hurried out of the room while Edward looked on in puzzlement.

  “You’ve gone too far, Edward.” Sanjar whispered.

  He felt confused and a little frightened. “Why? I thought she felt the same.”

  “She does,” Shalizeh said, “but she didn’t need to hear it right now. It will only make her sad. I need to go to her.”

  Sanjar gripped Edwards arm. “I think we should leave Edward. We’ll talk on the way back to the Embassy.”

  In the motorcar on the way back, Edward sighed. “Alright, Sanjar you can tell me what kind of fool I’ve been.”

  Sanjar bit his lip. “No, Edward, not a fool, a man in love. I understand love, it’s the way I feel about Shalizeh. But Dorri has a larger problem, and so do you.”

  Edward sat up alert and ready to defend. “What kind of problem?”

  Sanjar hesitated. “Dorri’s betrothed, Edward.”

  Of all the replies Edward might have expected, this was the one that was guaranteed to cause him to spiral into black despair.

  He slumped back in the seat and moaned. “God, no! Not that.”