by Ehsaneh Sadr
It sounded like the same woman who’d brought Azar to the room, but the voice had a different quality to it.
Azar stood up, tightened her headscarf, wrapped her chador around herself, and then turned toward the wall with the metal sheeting. She heard the door open behind her.
“Good,” the woman said. Her voice was sharp and clear without the door between them. “Do you have your blindfold?”
Azar pulled it from her manteau pocket.
“Put it on,” the woman instructed.
Azar did as she was told.
“Now, I want you to move forward slowly and put your hands up on the wall.”
Again, Azar followed the woman’s instructions. She hitched her chador up so it would hang around her without slipping off her head and shoulders.
“You will stay in that position until you are told you can move. Understand?”
“Yes,” Azar replied, “but please, can you tell me what is going on? Why am I here? What am I accused of ?”
“Basse! That’s enough!”
The woman’s words were accompanied by a sharp rap to Azar’s head with a hard object, possibly some sort of baton. Azar let out a cry more of surprise than pain.
“You will be silent until you are asked a question.”
Azar heard bumping and scraping noises behind her, as if someone were moving large objects into the room. Then came the sound of more footsteps outside the door that were muffled as a second person entered the carpeted room.
The woman took Azar’s arm and guided her toward the center of the room. Azar grabbed at her chador with her free hand to keep it from slipping.
“There’s a chair behind you,” the woman told her. “Beshin. Sit down. Pull your chador up so you don’t sit on it.”
Azar felt the edge of the chair against the backs of her legs and sat. She felt the woman lifting the back of her chador over the chair so that it draped around it.
“Let go of your chador and put your hands behind the chair.”
Azar hesitated. She didn’t know if the other person who had entered the room was a male and didn’t want to compromise her modesty.
“Ya’allah! Get moving,” the woman demanded.
She did as she was told and felt the woman clip her chador under her chin so it would stay in place. Her hands were bound under the chador and behind the chair with some sort of plastic material. A moment later, she felt the woman bind each ankle to the leg of the chair.
“Daresh biyaram? Should I take it off ?” The woman asked and, apparently receiving approval from someone, fiddled under Azar’s chador to undo the blindfold.
The blindfold slipped away, but Azar’s field of vision remained entirely black. The woman leaning over her was wearing a full face veil, which was extremely unusual among Iranian women. Up close, Azar could barely make out the woman’s eyes under the black cloth that hung over her face like a fencing mask. Was this the same woman with the ugly wart on her chin? Why was she wearing a face veil?
The woman backed away slowly, her chador sweeping aside like a magician’s cape to reveal the man sitting in the chair behind her.
Mr. Heydari.
The fear clenched her belly and rode the explosion of air it produced out of her throat in a scream that sounded inhuman even to Azar’s ears. Her back arched and her arms and legs bucked against their restraints, refusing to believe there was no escape. Azar felt the clip under her chin release and her chador begin to slip, but her fears of exposure were entirely overwhelmed by her visceral drive to get away. The restraints around her wrists and ankles bit into her skin as she twisted against them.
Even when her lungs were emptied of air, Azar’s stomach muscles couldn’t relax enough to allow an inhale. Her head swam, her vision dimmed, and Azar thought she might faint. Instead, she was revived with a slap.
“Khaffe sho! Quiet!”
The woman hit her again. Azar tasted blood. She cringed and squeezed her eyes closed as the woman raised her hand for another blow.
“That’s enough for now,” Heydari said. His voice was smooth and comfortable, reflecting confidence in his control.
Azar kept her eyes closed. She took deep breaths as she struggled to control her panic and clear her mind. What had happened to all her mental preparations for this moment? She had to keep it together. She felt the woman’s hands readjust her chador into place and fasten it again, more tightly this time.
“Don’t be such a baby,” the woman chided as if she was speaking to a child. “You scream like that again and I’ll have to give you something to scream about.”
The baton tapped Azar on the head again—a warning.
“Now open your eyes,” the woman commanded.
Azar steeled herself and opened her eyes.
The sight of Mr. Heydari once again generated an automatic fight-or-flight response, but this time Azar managed to suppress any outward signs of her distress. Heydari was sitting across from her in a folding chair with one leg crossed over the other. His fingers were interlaced and wrapped around his knee. He wore dark slacks and a white pinstriped shirt that was open at the collar. He wore his amber agate ring and his dark purple lips were smiling.
Heydari bowed his head respectfully in greeting.
“Salam, hajj-khanoom. Hello, good lady.”
How dare he speak to her with such mock deference! Azar looked at him with angry defiance. Heydari made a small motion with his head, and the woman flew at her. Azar ducked but realized, too late, that her head wasn’t the intended target when she felt the sharp rap of a baton across her shins. Azar clenched her jaw to keep from making any noise and bore the pain silently.
“Bitarbiyat! Show some respect!” the woman yelled and hit Azar’s legs again.
“That’s enough,” Heydari said. The woman fell back immediately.
“I apologize for my colleague,” Heydari addressed Azar. “She’s quite devout and devoted to our beloved velayat and can’t stand this sort of disrespect to the institutions of his government.” Heydari’s pretense was obvious. It was clear that the woman was merely a puppet operating under his command.
“Anyway,” Heydari went on. “There is no need for this to be unpleasant. You have something of mine. I want it back. Where is it?”
Azar needed to get things on track. Her overblown physical reaction to seeing the man had been unexpected. Concentrate, she told herself. She tried to orchestrate her facial muscles to convey deference as she said, “I’m sorry, sir, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The woman in black took a step toward her, and Azar cringed. But Heydari raised his hand, and the woman backed off.
Heydari sighed as he uncrossed and then recrossed his legs so that the other knee was on top. He folded his arms, leaned over them, and peered at her.
“Listen to me closely. I know Ms. Tabibian gave you something of mine, and you are going to tell me where it is. There are many different . . . approaches we can use to get this information out of you. I assure you that in the end you will tell me everything I want to know and then some. The only question is how much time it will take and how unpleasant it will be for you.”
Azar was surprised. Heydari thought Ms. Tabibian, not Leila, had brought the file to her? Why would he . . . Azar thought and then quickly landed on a plausible answer. Ms. Tabibian must have wanted to protect her daughter by leaving her out of the whole thing. Yes, that was smart. But why would she have implied that Azar had the original? And where was the original?
“Should I loosen her tongue?” The woman asked Heydari, interrupting Azar’s long silence.
“No, please,” Azar said. “I’m just trying to think of what you might be referring to.” She needed a few more clues as to what Heydari was thinking.
Heydari looked displeased. Azar wondered whether his patience had run out and she needed to sta
rt talking. But then he relaxed. He smiled a friendly smile and stroked his neatly trimmed beard.
“Let’s try a different approach,” he said. “Allow me to explain your situation. Perhaps when you understand it more clearly, you’ll be able to make a better decision. You see, hajj-khanoom, we have been watching you for some time. We know about your work for the Foundation. We know you have contacts with Westerners. We know where you shop for food and clothes and makeup and jewelry. We know where your children go to school and how often you leave them with your parents so you can pursue your . . . plotting.”
It was a strange mix of truths and untruths. Azar had never been in touch with Westerners, and she couldn’t remember the last time she went shopping for makeup or jewelry, so the man was clearly lying and trying to make it seem as if he knew more than he did. On the other hand, he knew at least a little about her work with the Foundation. And he knew she frequently left Hossein and Muhammadreza with her parents. Ali, she thought bitterly, why did you have to tell them about my boys?
“If you’ve been watching me so closely,” Azar said aloud, “you should know I have nothing of yours.”
“Oh, we haven’t been watching,” Heydari’s smile broadened. “It’s the good people around you who have been concerned about what you are up to that have come to us. People you work with. Family members. Your . . . brother.”
Heydari looked quite pleased with himself. Clearly, he expected Azar to be distraught at the news of all the spies around her.
“I don’t believe you.” Azar tried to respond as she imagined she would have had her brother not confessed his betrayal that very morning.
“Oh, I assure you it is true,” Heydari smirked. “He’s been working with us since the summer.”
“And he told you I have something of yours?” Azar probed.
Heydari frowned. “No, that was Ms. Tabibian. She told me she gave you a file that belongs to me.”
A small victory. Azar had guessed correctly that Ms. Tabibian had lied and said she herself had brought the file to her office. Azar suppressed a smile.
“But how could Ms. Tabibian tell you anything? She’s dead!” Azar pushed further.
The woman in black stirred from her spot by the wall and shook her baton at Azar. “Por roo! Who said you’re allowed to ask questions?”
Heydari raised his hand and waved it gently in front of the woman as if to restrain her. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll answer her question. And then she will answer mine.”
He nodded his head at Azar. “Yes, I heard about the unfortunate accident. She was in my office on Thursday and told me all about your trying to recruit her to spy on me and get information to pass on to your American contacts.”
“That’s a lie!” Azar cried. Would Ms. Tabibian really have said all those things? Or was Heydari making things up to scare Azar or, rather, to suit beliefs about her that he’d already formed.
“Come now, hajj-khanoom,” Heydari responded. “I’ve been open with you. Now it’s your turn. All I want is that file. You tell me where it is, and you walk out of this room right now.”
It was at this moment that Azar decided what her story was going to be and set her energy to believing the sequence of events she was about to relate. It shouldn’t be too difficult as it would contain a good dose of truth. And the story had the advantage of protecting everyone by laying all the blame on someone who had nothing more to lose.
“Mr. Heydari, you know my situation better than I do.” Azar hoped her voice sounded respectful. “My husband is in jail. I have two small children, and I’m barred from working to support them. There is no way I would do something that might create more trouble for my family. I’m telling you, Ms. Tabibian came to me. She wanted to give me a file, but I refused.”
Heydari pursed his lips. “Ms. Rahimi, you are beginning to try my patience. I don’t have time for this.”
“It’s true!” Azar protested.
“Why would she lie to me?” Heydari asked.
“Maybe she was trying to protect her daughter,” Azar answered. “She told me you wanted to marry Leila.”
“What?”
Azar noted with satisfaction that she’d hit a nerve. Heydari flicked a glance at the woman in black and looked almost embarrassed.
“Shame on you . . . trying to force that poor girl to marry you. She’s half your age!” Azar knew she didn’t sound deferential anymore. She was hoping to get more leverage from shaming the man in front of his colleague.
Heydari rose swiftly from his chair, and Azar wondered if she had gone too far. With her hands tied behind her, she wouldn’t even be able to shield her head from his attack.
But Heydari simply stood there a moment, looking at her angrily.
Azar spoke up, returning to the previous topic and her submissive tone, “I didn’t take the file. I told her she should give it back. And I think she gave it to her son.”
Heydari didn’t seem to hear her. He walked around his chair and stood behind it with his hands resting on its back. When he spoke, his voice was soft.
“Yes, I offered to marry her daughter,” he acknowledged. “But it isn’t what your disgusting mind thinks. Leila-khanoom has some . . . deficiencies that limit her prospects. I’ve known Ms. Tabibian since she was a child and was simply looking for a way to help the two of them. Unfortunately, she was too stupid to understand. She lived her life following such base animal motivations, she couldn’t recognize my pure intent. Anyway, khoda ra shokr, praise God, Miss Leila hasn’t been infected by her mother’s nature. She will need me now more than ever.”
Azar hesitated, not wanting to provoke him. Gently, she asked. “Does Miss Leila want to get married? Nineteen is still quite young.”
Heydari smiled proudly. “Yes, she is quite young . . . and beautiful!” He shook his finger at Azar with a mischievous look. “My intentions are pure, but I’m still a man after all.”
Heydari took a breath before continuing. “She will adjust to her fate.”
Heydari walked toward Azar. He stopped right in front of her and leaned down so they were face-to-face. She could see the clipped ends of his thick nose hairs move as he exhaled.
“Now, I’m getting tired of all this conversation.” Heydari breathed his words down on her. “All I want from you is a one sentence answer to this question. Where is my file? We’ve already searched your home and office, and it isn’t there.”
They’d searched her home? Where were her boys when they’d barged in? Azar was afraid. She needed to connect the dots of her story for Heydari without delay.
“I don’t have your file. I think Ms. Tabibian gave it to her s—”
In one swift motion, Heydari wrapped his hands around her neck and began to squeeze through her chador and headscarf. Azar could see the frustration and rage in his eyes as he leaned close and screamed in her ear “I said one sentence!”
Azar couldn’t move. Her lungs kept trying to suck air, but her intake was blocked by Heydari’s thumbs on her windpipe. Heydari started shaking her, and the back of Azar’s neck cracked painfully. Heydari put one knee on her lap as he leaned closer and continued yelling and shaking her. “Meslinke hanooz nafahmidi ba ki tarafi! It seems you still don’t know who you’re dealing with! You stupid cow! Bad things happen to people who stand in my way. Just ask Ms. Tabibian! I can make you disappear as easily as she did.”
Azar saw spots swimming before her eyes, and then the light in the room seemed to dim. In her narrowing peripheral vision, she saw the woman in black come close and murmur. “Mr. Heydari, I think she’s had enough . . . Mr. Heydari, listen to me please. Be careful, sir.”
“Akh! ”
Heydari released his hold on Azar’s throat and pushed her away. Her chair tipped over, and Azar crashed onto her shoulder but barely felt the impact; she was so grateful to breathe again.
Heydar
i turned on the woman in black. “Khaffe sho! Shut up! Shut up! Who told you to interfere, you incompetent idiot?”
The woman cowered, and Heydari gave her a swift kick. Then he turned and grabbed the chair he’d been sitting on and threw it to the ground as he continued to rant. “You think this is some kind of a joke? The enemy is surrounding us, and you protect her? This is war! A war between those who are on God’s side and those who are against. There can be no mercy in such a moment!”
The woman in black murmured apologetic bleatings that Azar couldn’t understand. Now that the fear of strangling had receded, she could feel the sharp pain in her shoulder where she’d landed. From her position on the floor, she watched Heydari carefully.
Heydari continued shouting. “I’ve had enough! There’s only one way to deal with this.”
He stalked to the door and yanked it open. Then he turned and spat “Eeno bolandesh kon! Get her off the floor!” before walking out the door.
The woman in black limped over to Azar, took hold of the back of her chair, and heaved her up.
“Okh, kamaram! ” the woman complained about her back pain as she lifted Azar. The momentum of her push caused the chair to tip again, and Azar worried momentarily that she might fall in the other direction, but after a few wobbles the chair settled upright.
“Please,” Azar said to the woman in a choking voice that burned her bruised vocal chords, “help me!”
The woman in black was fixing Azar’s chador around her again, but said nothing.
“Khanoom, please!” Azar repeated.
“You need to help yourself!” the woman snapped. “Believe me, there’s nothing I can do for you. Answer his questions, or it will get a million times worse.”
The woman clipped Azar’s chador so tightly that it scraped and stung her skin where it had been crushed by Heydari’s choke hold. Azar grimaced but didn’t complain.
“Listen,” She spoke urgently to the woman in black. “I’m not lying. Ms. Tabibian gave the file to her son. Her son works with Heydari. You must know him. Mister Sadegh.”