by Oliver Tidy
The temperature had dropped noticeably and the sweltering heat of the day had thankfully passed.
They were in the car no more than fifteen minutes. Hassan navigated them with skill and obvious knowledge through the suburbs and traffic of Tehran. Everywhere Acer looked he saw the signs and symbols of a metropolis. Everything appeared more affluent, more organised, busier, and more intense than anything he’d seen of Qom.
They rolled to a stop in the generous parking area directly opposite the main entrance of the terminal. Acer’s adrenalin was back pulsing through his system and he could see only seriousness and the gravity of their shared situation reflected on the features of the others. It was not that either Hassan or Niki had voiced concerns regarding the possibility of trouble waiting for them at the railway station. It was the simple act of mixing with ordinary citizens as part of a charade. And there was always the chance, no matter how slim, that something could go wrong for them and that their deceit would be revealed.
Hassan stepped out of the vehicle and hailed a group of men loitering outside the terminal. One of them hurried across with a battered, rattling luggage trolley. The suitcases from the boot were stacked on it. They were matching, looked expensive and were obviously filled.
Everyone got out and Acer picked up Zoe. She lay comfortably against his shoulder.
‘Good girl,’ he whispered. ‘Just remember to keep your eyes shut.’ He took comfort in the feeling that they looked like most of the other people bustling about the area – travellers with a train to catch.
The main hall of the station where all the business was done was very different from how Acer had imagined it. Acer had been expecting old-fashioned opulence, bustling crowds, the smell of sweat and hurry and industry, noisy queues at ticket windows. The reality was something quite different: modern electronic information boards, clean and orderly organisation, quiet purpose and fewer people than he’d expected. This was both good and bad.
Acer waited with Zoe and the two women while Hassan went to collect their tickets. When he returned Acer noticed Niki look meaningfully over her brother’s shoulder. Hassan turned to look towards a row of benches. Acer followed his gaze. There was a lone, middle-aged man looking in their direction. It seemed to Acer that he stared with a professional interest rather than an idle curiosity. The man looked away. Acer looked at Hassan. There was something there that hadn’t been there earlier.
Hassan showed their tickets at the barrier. Niki directed the porter to their luggage and they were moving again. Hassan walked with them to the train. His features were stern. Acer wanted to ask him if everything was all right.
Quietly, Hassan said to Acer, ‘Follow Niki up onto the train.’ And then he was walking back towards the large hall. Acer knew something was wrong. He wanted to call out to him. He wanted to know. But that would only attract unwanted attention.
The train was waiting in the shade of the station’s roof. A man in the uniform of the railway was loitering on the platform. Niki got his attention and he hurried over to take charge of the luggage. There were few other people around.
Acer followed the others up the few steps to board the train. They were led down the narrow, clean corridor to their compartment. The railway man opened the door and stood aside. Still carrying Zoe, Acer followed Dominique inside. When they were in Niki shut the door, with her on the outside. They heard her speaking loudly and there was a mumbled male reply. Dominique crossed to the window and pulled down the little blind. A moment later there was a tap on the door and the porter came in with their luggage. He piled it neatly and left without looking once at them or waiting for a tip. The door shut again. Acer lowered Zoe on to a seat and slid the lock across.
He crossed to the window and pulled the blind an inch to one side. By pressing his face to the window he could just manage a view of the ticket barrier and a little of the area beyond, where Hassan had disappeared to.
He thought he saw someone in a uniform and in a hurry flit across his field of vision. It could have been anyone – a railway employee. He let the blind fall back into place and turned back to the compartment.
He said, ‘This’ll do us nicely. Well done, Zoe.’
‘It will,’ said Dominique.
The girl’s eyes watched him. Her face betrayed nothing of what she was thinking.
‘Can you help me get a bed pulled out and organised for her?’ said Dominique.
They spent five minutes doing this and there was still no sign of either Niki or Hassan. Acer took another look out of the little window but learned nothing new. He saw a couple hurrying for the train, which told him that their scheduled departure was imminent.
With nothing else to do, he slumped down on a seat to wait. He watched Dominique organise her daughter. He peered again round the side of the blind. It looked like they were getting ready to leave. He opened his mouth to say so and there was a shrill whistle almost directly outside their carriage. It was answered by another blast further up the platform. There was a few seconds’ delay and then the telltale jolt that signalled their departure.
The train trundled along. The noise of its progress increased and drifted up through the little open vent. The blind bounced gently against the glass in the breeze that was channelled in.
Acer was troubled that he hadn’t seen Hassan get back on the train, although that didn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t. He wondered where Niki was and thought about going into the corridor to look for her. That idea was quickly scotched. He knew that to stray out of the compartment would be to court trouble and Niki’s wrath. All they had to do was stay put and appreciate the comfort, and the distance they were putting between themselves, Tehran and VEVAK.
They were quickly clear of the station and picking up a decent speed. Acer let the blind roll back up so that he could at least look at the view.
Dominique came and sat opposite him. She stared out at the city flashing past.
‘Asleep?’ said Acer.
She shook her head. ‘Resting. What’s wrong?’
‘Is it that obvious? I didn’t see Hassan get on the train. And I’m wondering where Niki is.’
There was a quick rap at the door, which startled them both. Acer walked over, slid back the bolt and cracked it open. He opened it wide to admit Niki. She looked as unhappy as he’d seen her. He bolted the door after her and retook his seat.
‘Everything all right?’
‘I can’t find Hassan.’
‘What do you mean?’
She looked coldly at him. ‘What I say: he’s not in our compartment. I can’t find him anywhere on the train. I didn’t see him get back on.’
‘The last I saw of him he was heading back towards the main entrance. Why did he go back?’
‘There was a man in the main hall.’
‘The man on the bench?’ She nodded. ‘Who was he?’
‘I don’t know. We didn’t recognise him, but he had a style about him. He could have been someone watching, reporting.’
‘Why would he have been there?’
‘They are always there. They are everywhere.’
‘He couldn’t recognise our faces, surely.’
‘No. But if he was VEVAK, he would know Hassan’s.’
‘How?’
‘Hassan is an active member of the opposition. He is an important man. He would want to know what Hassan was doing in Tehran railway station with Arabs.’
‘Oh. What was Hassan going to do?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘Can’t you ring him?’
‘Of course, I’ve tried to call him.’
‘Try him again.’
She did. It rang and rang until she cancelled it.
‘How bad is this?’
‘For Hassan this could be very bad. It could be nothing. It could be anything in between.’
‘And for us?’
She exhaled a long breath and seemed to lose some of her previous grim determination with it, like a layer of her armour had
been peeled away. ‘It depends.’ Her implication was clear and weighty.
‘If he’s not on the train, how does that affect our plans?’
‘We stay on. We have little choice. I believe he will call me. There are many reasons why he is not answering his phone.’
Acer felt it best not to explore those. They weren’t all good. ‘What about Bandar Abbas?’
‘I have the money. The contact is mine. We can still get you out of Iran.’
‘Providing Hassan is not compromised.’
They locked stares and it seemed something of her fire was rekindled. ‘My brother would never betray his people.’
Acer thought that a strange term to use for them. ‘Where is your compartment?’
‘Next door. That way,’ she jerked her thumb to the left.
‘How do we contact you if we need you?’
‘Bang on the wall and I will come. I will have another search of the train and then I will be in my room.’
‘If you hear from him, will you let me know?’
She nodded once, stood and left. Acer bolted the door after her.
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ said Dominique.
‘Nothing we can do about it. You heard her: she reckons she can still get us out. That’s what I’m focussed on – getting you, Zoe and me back to the UK.’
Dominique then echoed Acer’s thoughts when she said, ‘They wouldn’t need to make him talk, would they? They would just need to ask their questions at the station. It wouldn’t take them long to find out where his ‘Arabs’ were travelling to.’
Acer tried a reassuring smile. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Dominique. We don’t know that we have anything to worry about. Let’s see what happens.’
Dominique claimed tiredness. She went to lie down on the narrow cot of a bed with her daughter. Before she got too comfortable, Acer arranged the pull-down bed above them. Then he went back to his seat at the window and watched the desert go by as the sun went down.
There was no word from Niki and when the sun finally dipped below the distant horizon – with nothing else to do or see – he clambered up into the top cot and allowed the gentle rhythmic rocking of the train to lull him into troubled sleep.
***
21
‘They are out of Tehran?’
‘Yes.’
‘No problems?’
‘Her driver was not supposed to be armed. Why was he armed? It could have caused a problem.’
‘Shots were fired?’
‘No. The Englishman dealt with it. It was fortunate that the driver was a fat, slow fool.’
‘He was entitled to be armed. If he had known what to expect then it wouldn’t have been a problem.’
‘It might have. Just a different problem. It was important for him to believe in what was happening to him.’
‘Then the gun added some reality to the situation, added a little authenticity in the event that they doubt their good fortune.’
‘I think they are too stupid to even wonder. She is too damaged to think of anything other than being reunited with her sickly child. He is simply a fool. He has no training or experience in what he is doing. They have sent an amateur. They have disappointed me. They have underestimated us. And for that they will pay a high price.’
***
22
When Acer woke Dominique was up and sitting staring out of the window, which was now streaked with grime and wind-blown sand. Acer watched her for a few moments as she swayed in time with the gentle motion of the train, like a small boat rolling on the swell at its moorings. She seemed totally absorbed in the view of bleak arid blandness. Acer could see that already the sun was promising another blistering day.
As he thought about saying good morning and swinging his legs down, he saw her wipe away a tear with the back of her hand. The action left a wetness on her skin that glistened in the low early morning light.
Acer cleared his throat, made a performance of waking up and stretching, and then carefully lowered himself down. He looked in at Zoe and she seemed lost in her sleep.
He took the seat opposite Dominique. ‘Good morning.’
She managed half a smile. ‘Good morning.’
‘How did you sleep?’
‘Well, thank you. I could do with a shower though.’
‘And some clean clothes.’
‘Maybe a cafetiere of fresh, hot, black coffee.’
‘And some warm croissants.’
‘With English butter.’
‘Of course.’
He stared out of the window. The landscape had changed in the hours that they’d been asleep – a moonscape of dead ground under a tent of eggshell blue streaked with morning orange. Neither of them had a watch but from the angle of the sun Acer believed it to be not long after dawn.
He said, ‘There was nothing from Niki last night.’
Dominique just pursed her lips and turned her attention back to the horizon.
‘Shall I bang on the wall? See if she can organise some food and a hot drink?’
Dominique shook her head. ‘Let her sleep. She looked like she needed it.’
Acer doubted whether the woman in the next room would be asleep. With her brother out of contact she would be rightly worried. For him and for herself.
‘How’s the neck healing?’
‘It’s scabbed over. Feels fine. No infection, I think. What will you do when we get back?’
The question surprised him. He’d been thinking about it; he had an idea. He had a hope that with what he now knew the parting words of Botha’s widow might have been decoded. He still couldn’t remember exactly what she had said to him, but there had been something about having something to live for. It was a phrase he was clinging to. But what then? What if she did know something about his daughter? Would she know enough? Would she be able to help him? Would she want to, given what he had deprived her of? He had subsequently blown her husband – her meal ticket, the father of her children – to pieces along with his yacht. She might still be taking that badly.
‘Search for my daughter,’ he said, simply.
‘Where?’
‘The wife of the man responsible for all this said something that made no sense to me at the time. Now it does. What about you?’
‘My daughter is all I have now. And she is sick. She will be my primary concern.’
‘And Iran?
‘It is my intention to be as publicly vocal as I can possibly be; to make as much noise about this as I can. Iran should be held internationally accountable for what they have done.’ It was another glimpse of something raw and resolute from her and it provided some indication of how she must have dealt with the months of torture and torment she’d endured. ‘How did you come to be involved in this?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘You’ve hidden behind that once. We’ve got time.’
He breathed out heavily. ‘When I got back to the UK from Jackson, I kept myself off the radar. I went looking for the people responsible for what happened to us.’
‘How did you know where to look?’
‘I remembered that Harper, the man who organised our voyage on The Rendezvous, changed our itinerary so that we’d visit Jackson Island. I started with him. It got messy. You remember Bishop, the politician?’ She nodded and a frown settled on her features. ‘He gave you and your family up to Iran to pay a debt to an arms dealer, Botha.’ She looked at him with disbelief. ‘I know. Fantastic, isn’t it? It’s also true. I got my proof and went to the authorities.’
‘Just like that?’
‘No. People died. Bishop and another government man, Smith, were understandably not keen to have me tell my story and implicate them in events.’
‘What happened to Bishop?’
‘I left him a pistol with one round in it – a way out. I hoped he’d do me a favour and take it.’
‘And?’
‘He botched it, apparently. Brain damaged, they said, but not dead.
’
‘So the world knows about what happened in the Pacific?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m here under the cloak of British intelligence. They said that to throw the story to the media would create ripples that could cost further innocent lives. Yours among them. If the Iranians had learned that the British government suspected they had you and were forcing you to work on their uranium enrichment programme it would have been to sign your death warrant and the death warrants of your surviving family.’ Acer could see that it made sense to her.
She knitted her eyebrows before saying, ‘You said you have no experience of this kind of thing.’ He nodded. ‘So why did they ask you to come and why would you accept such a job with all its dangers when you’d just got your life back?’
‘They picked me because I don’t exist. I have no history with them. After a year lost at sea I’m obviously insane. I’m deniable. I’m also expendable. And I was in the right place at the right time for them. As to why I chose to come,’ he turned to look out of the window and then back to meet her stare, ‘I came because of your children.’ He was aware that sounded sentimental and foolish and added, ‘There was a window of opportunity for reconnaissance. And it was closing quickly. A UN delegation was coming to Iran to inspect their nuclear facilities. My contact in the service said he would get me on the security detail. He said he had a small network of sympathetic contacts in Iran that might be able to help me get evidence you were alive. That’s all I was supposed to do. If I could get that evidence then Britain and Iran might be able to quietly liaise diplomatically to mutual benefit.’
‘A trade?’
‘That’s what I understood. But this lot changed the plan. They convinced me that the best way, the only way, for you and your daughter to get out of Iran alive would be to escape before Iran learned that Britain knew you were alive and here. I agree with them. They made contact at the airport while I was waiting for my flight out of here. Put a man in my place to board the plane.’