At the university, Reza led Lourds and Miriam to a modest office at the back of the building. Miriam wore her new clothes under the burqa and had opted for business casual rather than jeans. Lourds regretted the shapeless shift because it masked the slender, hard-muscled curves he’d noticed while she was trying on clothing. He’d resolved to take her shopping once more before they left the country, in order to properly resupply what she’d lost, of course, and take more time to enjoy the experience.
He’d gotten new clothing as well, but went with olive cargo pants and a dark red Oxford shirt that felt incredibly soft. He carried his backpack over his shoulder, lighter now that the book wasn’t inside it.
Reza knocked lightly at the door. ‘Professor Namati? Professor Lourds and his graduate assistant, Miriam Abata, are here.’
Behind the modest desk, Professor Hashem Nabi Namati glanced up from the yellow legal pad he was writing on. He was a short, square man dressed in a suit and sweater. His head was covered and his black beard was laced with gray. He removed his reading glasses and stood with a smile.
‘Welcome. Come in, come in.’
Lourds entered the office and took the man’s hand, at the same time taking in all the books and the artifacts on the shelves. One of the most outstanding was a statue of al-Buraq rearing proudly, his mighty wings spread. Several pictures on the wall showed Namati standing in a dhow, a lateen-rigged sailing vessel. In some of them, as an older man, he was with a little girl who smiled with excitement.
‘You sail?’
‘When the chance presents itself. Sadly, those chances come fewer and fewer these days.’ Namati smiled. ‘Not all of us get to travel the world locating sunken continents and lost temples.’
‘Well, Professor, all I can say is you’re not getting out of academia often enough. Those things are out there for the discovering. They’re not just waiting for me.’
‘From where I sit, it seems as though they are awaiting your attentions. I’m sure a lot of the world would agree with me. As for getting out of academia, I appear to be shackled here more often than not.’ Namati gestured to chairs in front of his desk. ‘Please, sit.’
Miriam sat in one of the chairs. Lourds took the other.
‘Reza, you should be able to find a chair in one of the other offices that isn’t being used.’
‘Professor Namati, if I may?’
‘Yes.’
Lourds glanced at Reza and felt slightly guilty, but he knew the likelihood of the young man’s being a spy to be a fairly good one. ‘I’d like to keep this private for a little while. If that’s all right.’
If Reza was put off by the dismissal, he didn’t show it. ‘Of course. I’ll just be down the hall when you’re ready to go.’ He left.
‘Would you like anything to drink?’ Namati spread his hands in invitation.
‘I think we’re good for the moment. I would like to take you to lunch later, if you can escape academia for that long.’
Namati laughed. ‘I cleared my schedule for you today. Lunch would be wonderful.’ He sat. ‘I have to admit, after what the two of you went through yesterday, I’m really surprised that you still showed up today.’
‘Our visit here is important.’
Namati nodded. ‘This is about that book Lev found, isn’t it?’
41
‘We didn’t discuss any of the particulars of our visit on the phone. What would make you ask that?’ Lourds regarded Professor Namati with increased interest.
‘Because if you actually have that book, your lives are in danger. You should have gathered that much from yesterday’s events.’ Namati studied them. ‘Though I suppose you already knew that.’
‘What makes you think that what happened yesterday had anything to do with a book Lev might have found?’
Namati shrugged. ‘Perhaps it didn’t. But the last time I talked to Lev, he’d mentioned bringing you in to look at the book. He was convinced that he’d gone as far as he could on it.’
‘Have you seen the book?’
‘Sadly, no. I was curious, but Lev felt the last place it should be was in Iran. There are people here that desperately want that book. Outside interest in what he was doing here caused Lev to leave before he’d finished his research.’
Miriam shifted slightly in her chair. ‘Why do you say the book is dangerous?’
Namati stared at her for a moment, then scratched his chin. He shifted his attention to Lourds. ‘Why is she here?’ He glanced at Miriam. ‘I mean no disrespect.’
Miriam stiffened slightly, and Lourds knew she was miffed, but to her credit she didn’t say anything.
‘I asked her to accompany me. Her Farsi is much better than mine.’
‘Really?’ Bright suspicion dawned in Namati’s eyes as he focused on Miriam. ‘How is it you speak Farsi so well?’
‘My father was born in Tehran,’ Miriam replied effortlessly in Farsi. ‘He spent most of his adolescence here, then went away to university and met my mother. He told me on many occasions, before I lost him, that love has a way of transporting a seed to new and fertile ground where it springs anew.’
Namati smiled, and his eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘You do speak Farsi well.’
‘Thank you. My father taught me the language and refused to let go of his heritage. My mother learned Farsi as well, and we spoke it often in our home.’
‘Have you been to Tehran before?’
‘Several times. My father traveled here every time he could. He brought me when he was able.’
‘How long has it been since you were last here?’
‘Years. I lost my father and have not been back till today.’
‘I am sorry for your loss. And, time permitting with Professor Lourds’s good grace, I can take the two of you around and show you some of the changes that have taken place in the city.’
‘I would love that.’
Namati leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands together. He switched back to English. ‘As far as why that book is dangerous, have you read the story in it?’
‘I’ve translated some of it.’ Lourds shrugged. ‘It seems to be a retelling of the Prophet’s early days. Nothing overly interesting. Other than the fact it’s supposed to be written by Yazid ibn Salam. I haven’t had it carbon-dated, but Lev’s notes indicated he had.’
‘The book was carbon-dated. I’ve seen those reports. Lev sent me part of the translation, and I’d have to agree that on the surface the story isn’t anything that scholars haven’t already seen. Except for one thing: Lev mentioned there was a legend of Mohammad’s own Koran, written in his own hand as God told it to him. And the Scroll that foretells the future of Islam.’ Namati’s voice lowered. ‘That alone can get you killed by devout Muslims.’
‘For the book?’
‘Or over it. If the story is true, and among some of my peers, that statement would be considered sacrilege, there are some who would kill to possess the book if you were not Muslim. They feel the book must be recovered and Mohammad’s lost Koran and Scroll found.’
Lourds resisted the urge to point out that he knew the Ayatollah was one of those ‘peers’ who would do that. Klaus Von Volker’s involvement proved that.
‘And if the story is a lie, there are other Muslims who would see that book destroyed as an abomination. No matter if it is of historic significance.’ Namati took a breath. ‘When Lev was here, asking around about the book and this new legend of Mohammad, he had to be very careful. He thought some of the fundamentalists had already sniffed him out and were on his trail.’