Welch, D [Shadow People 02] Shadow Spies

by Doug Welch

  “It’s not what you think, Edward,” Sanjar said hurriedly, “it’s more complicated. It was arranged when she was a child. Her father is trying to break the betrothal and if he succeeds, you and Dorri can be together.”

  “I don’t understand. If Dorri’s a British citizen, I could just take her back to England and be done with this whole business.”

  “She can’t, Edward, even if she tried, she wouldn’t be able to leave the country.”

  Edward didn’t believe him. “Don’t be ridiculous she’s got a passport, of course she can leave.”

  Sanjar chose his words with caution. “Her family is special, Edward, one of the Seven. I didn’t learn about it until I married Shalizeh. You’ll have to get Dorri to explain it to you, but it’s a fact. Dorri can’t leave Iran until the betrothal is broken. It would be dangerous for her to even attempt it.”

  Chapter 7

  Tehran – Winter 1978

  Edward paced nervously in the hallway outside the doors to Massoud’s office. Although he’d practiced his speech many times over, he felt unsure, like an adolescent asking a girl for a first date.

  Two nights ago, after the Baha’i feast, he’d smoothed Sanjar’s ruffled feelings about deceiving him. He’d informed him that his report to the Home Office included strong recommendations to support the Shah and his government for humanitarian reasons.

  What he hadn’t revealed to Sanjar was the warning contained in the report that the Shah’s position was very shaky and if Her Majesty’s Government wasn’t able to convince the shah to make some major concessions to the Muslim majority, he’d likely face a popular uprising.

  He remembered the meeting at the Ambassador’s ornate office at the Embassy after he’d read Edward’s report.

  * * *

  He, Commander Rice, and several other Embassy officials sat grouped in the office, waiting for the Ambassador’s reaction.

  “You make some extraordinary recommendations in your report, Mister Rowan.”

  Edward tented his fingers in front of his lips. “It’s an extraordinary set of circumstances, Mister Ambassador.”

  “But this claim of an almost bloodless revolution against the Shah’s government? It defies all known conventions.”

  Edward leaned forward. “The findings leading to my conclusions are outlined in the report, Your Excellency, but I’ll review them. There are three major factions involved here. First, the secular Iranians including the communists who mostly oppose the Shah for various economic and political reasons. Second, the secular, Western-leaning Iranians who support the Shah and desire to see an end to Muslim domination, and finally the mostly illiterate Muslims that are easily swayed by self-serving, fundamentalist Ayatollahs like Khomeini. The latter constitute the clear majority of the population.

  “They’re simple people who are bewildered by the abrupt change in their traditional beliefs, attitudes that have been fixed by hundreds of years of Muslim rule. They’re fearful of change and they’ll listen to any demigod who reassures them they’re right in their traditions. This particularly applies to the males. They view the Shah with fear and that fear makes them distrustful of him and his decrees. If they explode, the military will not oppose them.”

  The Ambassador dropped the report on his desk. “What makes you so sure?”

  Edward looked up at him. “Think about it, Your Excellency, if Her Majesty’s Government abruptly dictated an end to the traditions of the Anglican Church, would you shoot your Anglican neighbor because he became angry about it?”

  Pincade, present as one of the undersecretaries, spoke up. “I hardly see, Mister Rowan, this has much bearing on the problem. Surely this whole unpleasantness is instigated by the communists.”

  Edward chuckled. “The communists may become the flash point, Mister Pincade, but they’ll find that once the fundamentalists take charge that their lives will be short and nasty. The influential Ayatollahs hate atheists more than they hate the Shah.”

  The Ambassador frowned. “It says in your report that the Shah’s government should deny the return of Ayatollah Khomeini to the country.”

  Edward focused on the Ambassador as though by his will alone he would be able to convince him. “Khomeini is a self-serving dictator who desires nothing more than Muslim theocratic rule over Iran. He represents more danger to this country and the Shah than the entire Soviet Army. He must be kept out of the country at all costs.”

  After a few more rounds of discussion, the Ambassador dismissed them.

  As Edward rose from his seat, the Ambassador stopped him. “Not you, Mister Rowan, please remain. I want to talk to you privately.”

  After everyone had departed and they were alone, the Ambassador spoke.

  “Just how much of this report is the result of your involvement with Miss Baraghani, Edward?”

  Edward didn’t know how to reply because in truth he wasn’t sure. He decided to respond as honestly as he knew how and sat back down.

  “I’m sure the part about humanitarian concerns in regard to the Government’s support of the Shah is colored by my concerns for her and her family. If the government of Iran becomes a theocracy, Christians and Jews may be tolerated because they both share the same religious heritage as Islam, but Baha’is and most other minorities will suffer. As to my other conclusions? I stand behind their accuracy. If Her Majesty’s Government cannot act to reverse the unfolding events, I fear we will lose our influence in Iran and unleash a rogue nation.”

  “I see you didn’t include the Americans in your report. We can hardly oppose our allies in this.”

  “The Americans seem as blinded by royalty as we British, but they appear unwilling to support a government that they, by their own efforts, created in the first place. Her Majesty’s Government needs to stand alone in this issue, apart from the Americans, because we are as much responsible for creating modern Iran as they were and we have a moral obligation to uphold that creation.”

  * * *

  The door to the office opened and interrupted his memories of the Ambassador’s meeting.

  Massoud’s assistant bowed. “Mister Baraghani will see you now.”

  Edward drew in a nervous breath, squared his shoulders, and entered the office. Massoud stood in front of a low, ornate desk-like table. He gestured to a divan sitting against the wall behind a table and dismissed his assistant with orders for tea and refreshments.

  Once the assistant departed, he sat with Edward. “The weather has been bitterly cold, don’t you think?”

  Edward knew if he held to traditional mannerisms in this conversation he’d be here for an extended time and he’d prepared himself to endure it, but somehow during his wait, all of his good intentions had vanished.

  “I’m sure you’re aware Sir, of the lamentable lack of common courtesies from people of Western countries. Unfortunately I must forego what promises to be a pleasant conversation, and come right to the topic.”

  Edward could swear that Massoud’s hand hid a grin as he covered his beard, but he waited for a reply. “Ah, yes, the topic. You said over the telephone that you wished to discuss some important issues with me, Mister Rowan. Can’t they wait until we’ve had some tea?”

  Edward felt his jaw clinch as he prepared to endure the inevitable. “Edward, Sir. You may call me Edward.”

  “Edward? –Very well, Edward it will be. And how do you fare today Edward?”

  Edward cocked his eyebrow. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you, Sir.”

  Massoud’s face remained passive, not betraying emotion. “Young men should fret and strain for the important things in life. It makes them much sweeter if and when they are obtained.” As his assistant entered holding a tray, he rose to his feet and accepted it, again dismissing the man.

  “As you are my guest, allow me to serve you. He quietly poured the tea and inhaled the fragrance. Edward observed him, studying him over the rim of his glass.”

  “You speak Farsi very well, Edward.�
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  Edward felt himself calm as he sipped his tea. “Farsi and several other Indo-European languages, Sir, including most of their dialects.”

  “Where were you educated, Edward?”

  “Oxford, Sir.”

  “Are you truly a Lieutenant in the RAF?”

  Surprised by the question, Edward swallowed and shook his head. “RAF Sir, but not a Lieutenant, rather a Wing Commander.”

  Both of Massoud’s eyebrows rose to join his frown lines. “Isn’t that a high rank for someone so young?”

  “I never thought much about it, Sir, but it doesn’t matter. You see, I’ve been grounded. I’m unable to fly anymore, so I’ve been given administrative duties.”

  “I see,” Massoud said. “I suppose we should get to the subject of our meeting. What did you come to see me about?”

  Edward swallowed and licked his lips nervously. He sat up ramrod straight and faced Massoud.

  “I’ve come to offer for your daughter, Dorri, Sir. I would like to make her my wife.”

  Again Massoud’s face betrayed no emotion. He let the time stretch before he replied. “I think you’re aware, Edward, that Dorri’s betrothed.”

  Edward couldn’t imagine that Dorri’s father would subscribe to such barbaric customs as child-bride betrothals. “I’m aware of that, Sir. If necessary, I’ll counter any offer for her and exceed it. But I can’t imagine that someone as enlightened as you, Sir, would countenance the continuation of a practice that the Shah has decreed to be illegal.”

  Massoud grimaced. It was only the second emotional expression that Edward had seen on his face during the entire conversation. “The arrangement for Dorri was made by my father, Edward, Dorri’s paternal grandfather. I was powerless to prevent it. I’ve been trying to break it ever since he died.”

  Edward folded his hands and stared at the floor. He dreaded what might come from Massoud’s lips and he prepared to counter with arguments of his own.

  Massoud cleared his throat. “As to the original question, whether I would give permission for you to marry Dorri...The answer is, yes.”

  Edward’s head snapped up with such violence he felt his neck pop. His heart seemed to try to leap from his chest and his head swam. Had he heard right? Did Massoud just give him permission to wed Dorri?

  “You mean...?”

  Massoud smiled. “Yes, Edward, you may marry Dorri.”

  Edward jumped up, then thought better of it and sat down.

  “But what about the betrothal? What’s to become of that?”

  Massoud sighed. “I doubt there will be a resolution of that problem soon, but the fact of your marriage to Dorri may bring it to a head. However, you’re not quite finished, yet, young man.”

  Edward’s high plummeted to a low. “What remains?”

  Massoud placed his hands, palms together in front of his lips. “I assume you’re aware that Dorri is a Baha’i?”

  “Yes, Sir, I assumed you all were.”

  “All of us with the exception of my son, Behrouz.”

  Dorri had mentioned a half-brother, but he hadn’t met him. It seemed that he was destined to acquire a new set of relatives.

  “I know you have a son, I’ve never met him.”

  “And you’re not likely to meet him if I can prevent it.”

  Surprised at his statement, Edward decided to ignore it. “You mentioned about Dorri being a Baha’i. Is that a problem?”

  “Baha’is need the permission of both sets of parent’s to marry, Edward. As I understand it, your mother still lives. You’ll have to write her or call and get her permission. Then you can marry.”

  Edward wondered at the unusual requirement but wasn’t inclined to object. His mother would be overjoyed to welcome a new daughter. “Is there anything else, Sir?”

  Massoud sighed. “Unfortunately. But you’ll have to get Dorri to explain it, I can’t.”

  Massoud’s evasion puzzled him. “I’m not sure I interpreted that correctly, Sir. Did you mean you can’t or won’t tell me?”

  Massoud looked frustrated. “Can’t, Mister Rowan. I can’t tell you. You’ll have to learn it from Dorri and once you do, you may change your mind.”

  Although his cryptic reply sounded alarming, Edward doubted anything Dorri said would budge him from his single-minded desire to make her his wife.

  “When can I see her, Sir?”

  “You may call in the evenings at our home. You’ll be properly chaperoned, of course.”

  Edward hunched forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “Of course. –I understand. But I need to tell you, Sir, that you’ve made me a very happy man. I’m deeply grateful.”

  “Save your gratitude until after you’ve talked to Dorri,” Massoud replied. “I regret to say it may be misplaced.”

  * * *

  Edward called upon the Baraghani household after the evening meal. He was led to a small room, opening to the garden, in which a woman dressed in a chador sat with her eyes closed as though sleeping. In a little while Dorri entered the room.

  He rose from his seat and although he wanted to hold her, he knew that such behavior would be reported by the old woman. To his delighted amazement, Dorri rushed over and wrapped her arms around his neck to give him a deep, passionate kiss.

  He responded by crushing her in his arms and returning the kiss with equal fervor. After a moment he drew back.

  “Aren’t you afraid our chaperone will report this?”

  Dorri grinned. “She’s nearly blind with cataracts and she’s listening to a radio station through some ear phones.”

  Edward chuckled. “You constantly amaze me.”

  She took his hand and led him to a low divan butted against the wall. When they sat down, she grabbed him and kissed him again.

  Edward gloried in the scent of her perfume, the taste of her lips, and the feel of her soft unencumbered body under the filmy garment she wore, but he knew they didn’t have much time to be together so he drew back and held her at arm’s length.

  “We need to talk, Dorri.”

  She looked disappointed. “I‘d rather you love me during the time we have. I’ve missed you, Edward more than you know.”

  “If it’s nearly as much as I missed you, it must have been unbearable. But we don’t need to suffer that anymore, Dorri. I’ve asked you father for permission to marry you and he said yes. We don’t need to be apart ever again.”

  To his surprise, Dorri jumped up and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “No! You don’t know what you’re asking. Take it back! Withdraw your offer.”

  A stab of pain pierced Edward’s chest and gloom threatened to overwhelm him. He spoke softly. “Don’t you want to marry me, Dorri?”

  She sat back down and took his hands. “I’ve thought of nothing else, Edward, but I realize now it’s impossible. I’ll be your mistress, I’ll be anything you want me to be, but don’t ask me to marry you. It’s not fair –to you. You don’t know what marriage to me entails and I won’t put you through it. I love you too much for that.”

  “You’re not making sense, Dorri. If two people love each other then anything’s possible. –Does this have something to do with what your father told me?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What did father say?”

  “He implied that you held some secret and he wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me what it was. He said that you would have to reveal it and once you did, I might withdraw my offer. –I’m not withdrawing it, Dorri, nothing you could say would change my mind.”

  Dorri barked a bitter laugh. “Hah! He’s right about that and he’s also correct in saying he can’t reveal it. You wouldn’t believe me if I confessed it to you, because it’s something outside your experience. Do us both a service and forget it.”

  Her look changed to one of pleading. “Just hold me and kiss me, Edward. Caress me and make me drown in passion. Give me that, Edward. Give me the memory of your love to keep me sane when you’re gone.”

  Chapter 8


  Tehran – Spring 1978

  Despite Edwards’s refusal to withdraw his bid for Dorri’s hand, she still insisted she wouldn’t marry him.

  Their romantic moments had become more intense with each meeting and Dorri had begged him to take her, but she was a virgin and he knew that such an irrevocable act would plague his conscience. If they were to consummate their mutual passion, he was determined that it would be within the bonds of marriage in a setting that befitted the significance of the moment. It would have to be a slow and careful act of love.

  At the moment his commitment was strained to the breaking point, as his lips trailed kisses along her bare breasts and his hands roamed freely on her body.

  Summoning an iron will, he controlled his passion and broke away from her.

  “No, Dorri. I won’t do this. Not here and not now.”

  She lay on the divan, her clothing gaping and disheveled. Edward had to look away because the sight of her nakedness sent powerful feelings of arousal though his body. She clenched her fists and bit her lower lip in frustration.

  “Edward, I want this.”

  “No, Dorri, not until we’re married.”

  She laughed without humor. “Isn’t that usually the woman’s line? I should be the one saying it.” She sighed. “Just when did the world become so twisted around?”

  Edward stroked her face, trailing his fingers along her cheeks and soothing her brow. “You can solve that problem by agreeing to marry me.”

  She sat up, folding her arms around her knees. “You know my answer. I’ll be your mistress or your lover. I’ll even bear your child, but I won’t marry you.”

  Stunned by her words, Edward cast about for an anchor in the sea of emotions that swam through his brain. Had he heard her right? Had she just committed to the roles of a wife and mother without embracing the act that bound them?

  “I won’t consummate our love in this small, mean room on a couch,” he said. “If it comes to that, it must be a in a place we can call ours, comfortable in our home as husband and wife.”

  She looked at him and smiled. “Well, we may get our chance. Sanjar and Shalizeh have invited us to spend a few days at Lake Urmia. They’ve agreed to be our chaperons.”