Grishkov frowned and asked, "But isn't segregation still the rule?"
Vasiloyev nodded. "Segregation by gender exists in both countries, and the need for totally separate facilities including entrances if women work at a company is often cited as a cost factor in refusing to hire them. Such segregation is generally more strictly enforced in Saudi Arabia, so that the women in the jewelry factory, for example, have to work in a separate area.
Likewise for the requirement that women be accompanied by a male relative outside the home, and need a male relative’s permission to obtain a passport, make a report to the police, or to take most other significant actions.
However, thanks to recent liberalization in Saudi Arabia women no longer need a male relative’s permission to apply to a school, for a job, or for medical care. Plus, as long as they obtain the permission of their nearest male relative, Saudi women can now drive.”
Grishkov nodded. “Yes, I had heard of this. And the negative?”
Vasilyev frowned. “Perhaps the most disturbing development in Saudi Arabia has been forced divorce. This happens when a relative of a married woman, often her brother, decides to contest the legitimacy of the woman’s marriage. He would usually do this by going to a religious official, often making a ‘contribution’, and asking for a ruling that the marriage was invalid.
A typical basis would be that the marriage was beneath the status of the woman’s family, and as its head he disapproved.”
Grishkov shook his head. “Why would he do this?”
Vasilyev grimaced. “Money. The most common motivation is to take control of a woman’s share of an inheritance. Though a woman only gets a half share, that is often more than the males in the family want to give, particularly if giving that half share would require selling property or businesses and splitting the proceeds.”
Grishkov frowned. “What happens to the woman in such cases?”
Vasilyev spread his hands. “Their marriage is annulled as if it never happened. Any children are given to the father to raise. The woman is required to move in with her closest male relative, usually the man who forced the divorce, and must place all her assets under his control. This means not only her share of an inheritance, but any assets she retained after her marriage, such as a bank account or salary.”
Grishkov shook his head again. “How often does this happen?”
Vasilyev shrugged. “There are no statistics. However, at one point there were articles about the issue even in the Saudi English language press, which demonstrated both that the government was aware of the issue and disapproved of the practice. It’s important to understand that the Saudi government has only limited control over the actions of the clergy, though that’s still better than Iran where in spite of elections the clergy is actually in control of the government.”
Grishkov frowned. “I think I have heard enough about women in Saudi Arabia. I hope their situation is better in Iran.”
Vasilyev smiled. “It is, to some degree. Women have been allowed to vote and hold office for years, though in the 2009 presidential election many women were arrested for voting for a candidate not favored by the clergy, and their votes were not counted. Women make up only about three percent of the members of Iran’s parliament. In other areas the record is also mixed.
Women are allowed to participate in some sports, but not to enter stadiums as spectators to watch football or volleyball matches. Though they can drive, few have the money to buy a car of their own, and strangely women are not allowed to ride bicycles.”
Grishkov nodded. “Not so surprising then, that this particular Iranian woman would like to live elsewhere.”
Vasilyev grinned. “Fortunately for us, since otherwise we’d have no leads worth pursuing.”
Chapter Ten
Anatoly Grishkov placed his request for black coffee with the waiter as soon as Alexei Vasilyev had finished ordering his latte. Waving his hand around the back patio where they were seated, he asked “Why is it we seem to always be in coffee shops? And why did you specify this one in particular?”
Vasilyev smiled, and said, “Good. We will continue with your training.
Think, and then answer the questions yourself.”
Grishkov scowled, and then nodded. "Very well. It is obvious that we should not meet our Russian Embassy contact at the Mission building, since it is sure to be under observation by Iranian intelligence. This cafe is within walking distance of the Embassy, and there is nothing strange about our contact sharing a coffee with two other Russians.”
Vasilyev arched one eyebrow. “And?”
Sighing, Grishkov looked around the patio. “Well, I did notice when we arrived that you told them we had a reservation, and we were shown outside to this patio. I suppose not all cafes take reservations, and we wouldn’t want to stand in line waiting. I also notice that we have good table separation here, and in this patio with the ambient noise from the city around us overhearing our conversation would be quite difficult.”
Vasilyev grinned and clapped his hands. “Outstanding. I’ll add that along with excellent reviews Google was nice enough to include customer photos, including one showing this cafe’s latte art. Just the basic heart design, but enough to make me hope the latte will be drinkable. Tehran is not really known for its coffee.”
With that a tall woman with blond hair showing under her sheer scarf walked into the patio, and made straight for their table. She sat down without any preamble, and placing a black briefcase beside her said in a low voice, “You may call me Alina.”
Before either could say anything Alina gestured impatiently and added, “Introductions are unnecessary. I know who both of you are. I am here to give you the details of your mission. First, you will receive an overview from Director Smyslov.”
Both Grishkov and Vasilyev started with surprise. Vasilyev asked, “He is here in Tehran?”
Alina smiled dryly. “In a manner of speaking,” as she pulled a small laptop from her purse and attached earbuds. “One earbud each, but for this you will not need stereo.”
The waiter appeared and Alina ordered coffee, with cream on the side.
As soon as the waiter left, Alina turned on the laptop, placed her fingertip on a sensor and entered a password to open the video file. She then turned the screen towards them, and handed them each an earbud.
Shortly Smyslov’s smiling bearded face filled the screen, and his voice boomed through the earbuds. “My friends! We are finally able to send video files to our embassies with proper security. I’ve always wanted to do this, like the Mission Impossible movies, yes? But there is a serious purpose — I want there to be no doubt in your minds that these orders are coming directly from me.
Your mission will not be impossible, but I will not lie. It will not be easy.
The first part will be to help an Iranian woman leave Iran for Iraq overland.
She is the wife of the man leading Iran’s nuclear weapons program, and has vital information on the attacks coming in Saudi Arabia. An Iranian who has worked with our Embassy before will accompany you as guide until you have reached Iraq.”
Smyslov paused. “Now for the difficult part. Once you are in Iraq, a Russian Army helicopter that has already been cleared to enter Iraqi airspace will pick you up and fly you to our military headquarters in Syria. There you will meet with the commander of Russian forces in Syria, General Stepanov.
The purpose will be to brief him on the planned attack. The defector has told us that part of it will be by air, and we expect the Iranians to use a pair of J-20 stealth fighters they have recently obtained from China in carrying out the attack. Particularly since the Saudis are heavily engaged in Yemen, we think the attack may succeed unless we intervene.