‘I shouldn’t be here.’ Reza started to rise from his chair.
Lourds leaned forward and put a restraining hand on the young man’s forearm. ‘Reza. Please. If something isn’t done, I’m certain those people are going to kill Miriam. I need help.’
Reza stood a moment longer, halfway between rising and sitting. Finally, he blew out a breath and sat back down. ‘What have you done that would call the Revolutionary Guard down on you?’
‘Have you heard of Lev Strauss?’
‘Of course. I’ve read many of his proposed peace agreements regarding the Middle East.’
‘You know about his death?’
‘Yes.’
‘I have reason to believe he was killed by the Ayatollah’s death squads because of something he was working on. Now I’m working on it.’
‘This is what you were talking to Professor Namati about yesterday?’
‘Yes. I excluded you because I know that many of the students are spies for the Revolutionary Guards.’
‘And if I am such a spy?’
Lourds shook his head. ‘Then I’m caught, and there’s nothing I can do.’
Reza regarded him in stony silence. ‘Trusting you with my secrets is equally dangerous, Professor Lourds.’
A tremendous weight seemed to drop off Lourds’s shoulders, and he felt like he was in free fall.
‘If you want passage out of Iran, I can take you through the Kurd lands. The way will be harsh, but staying here may well mean your death.’
‘I don’t want passage out of Iran yet.’
‘Then you’re a fool.’
‘I can’t leave Miriam behind if there’s any chance to save her. I got her into this mess, and I need to get her out.’
Reza grinned mirthlessly. ‘You can’t even get yourself out of the city.’
‘I don’t know that yet. What I do know is that I don’t have a prayer of finding Miriam if I’m constantly having to stay out of sight.’
‘I understand. Professor Lourds, there are many of us in Iran who love democracy, but we haven’t yet had the chance to embrace it. We yearn for it. We die for it.’ His face crumpled a little, and his voice turned hoarse. ‘Less than a month ago, my girlfriend Liora was killed by the Basij during a peaceful demonstration. She was an innocent, barely eighteen years old.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘As am I.’ Reza’s eyes gleamed wetly. ‘Liora’s death wasn’t for nothing. I won’t let it be for nothing. More and more of us, not just the students, but adults as well, who were once afraid to show their distrust and dislike of the Ayatollah, are standing together. We know we must act against the tyranny of the theocracy in Iran, but at the same time we cannot forget the importance of being good Muslims and being faithful to God.’
‘I understand.’
‘After all these deaths, there are some in the Revolutionary Guard who are beginning to disagree with the Ayatollah. They do so secretly, but we are able to work through them. We can get more information these days. They know change is coming for our people, and they want to be on the right side of history.’ Reza leaned back. ‘If it is not too late, we will help you find Miss Abata. Then we will see about getting you out of Iran.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Just promise me one thing.’
‘If I can.’
‘Whatever it is you are working on, if it will help undermine the Ayatollah’s regime, get it done.’
Thinking of Lev’s murder and now Miriam’s abduction, Lourds nodded grimly. ‘You’ve got my word on that.’
44
One of Reza’s student friends drove Lourds to Professor Namati’s home. It was Saturday, and the professor should have been there. Lourds didn’t get Namati’s home phone number. The house was a modest single-story with a nice garden out front.
Lourds walked up to the front door, took off his hat, and knocked politely.
A young woman answered the door and looked frightened. She was an older version of the young girl Namati had pictures of in the dhow. Her red eyes gave away the fact that she’d been crying.
‘May I help you?’ The young woman stood her ground behind the door.
‘I hope I’m not coming at a bad time.’ Lourds felt uncomfortable, but he wasn’t leaving without speaking to Namati.
‘My father isn’t here.’ Her voice broke.
‘I’m Thomas Lourds.’
‘I know who you are, Professor Lourds.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘You are part of the reason they took my father.’
‘Who took your father?’
‘The Revolutionary Guard. They came this morning and took him away. They said it was just for routine questioning, but my father knew it was a lie. He did not want to go with them. They told him they would kill me if he did not. So he left. They wanted to know if he had seen you.’
Stunned, Lourds stood there for a moment and didn’t know what to say. ‘Do you know where they took your father?’
‘Where does the Revolutionary Guard take any intellectual they view as a threat to them? To Evin Prison.’
For the first time, Lourds realized where Miriam had probably been taken, and the knowledge left him terrified. Horrible things happened at that prison. Although the regime denied it, reports came out of Iran frequently about the serial rapes and other brutal torment that went on inside that prison.
He concentrated on the young woman. ‘What’s your name?’
She hesitated, but she finally spoke. ‘Shirin.’
‘Shirin, if there is a way to do it, please understand that I’m going to help your father. I promise you that.’
She only looked at him until finally he couldn’t bear it any longer and returned to the waiting car. As he got in, he watched Shirin close the door and lift the window curtain. He didn’t know if she was calling the Revolutionary Guard to let them know that he’d been there or if she was trying to convince herself to believe him.
The student put the car into gear and pulled into the street.
Lourds dialed Reza’s number and waited as the call connected.
In the shade of the teahouse beside the prison, Mufarrij sat and watched the installation. He’d reconnoitered Evin Prison before, but he’d never been assigned to break into the penitentiary. Now his orders were to do whatever it took to free the Israeli woman who had been with Thomas Lourds.
‘You are sure this man will come here?’ Haytham sat across the table from Mufarrij. His name translated into young hawk, and he resembled the predatory bird in his hooked nose and sharp, flashing eyes. He was in his early twenties, but was a stone killer and had slit his first throat — that of a Revolutionary Guardsman who had tried to rape his sister — when he was twelve.
‘Yes. The American is predictable. Once he finds out the woman is here, he will come. He won’t be able to help himself.’
‘I have seen this man’s files. He is no warrior.’
Mufarrij smiled at that. ‘It is even worse than that. The American is a romantic. He believes that good will triumph over evil.’
Haytham snorted in derision. ‘And, of course, America is good.’
‘Of course.’
‘I suppose he is going to raise an army to allow him to break in?’
‘I do not know. That is why we must be ready.’ That was also why the king had allotted Mufarrij the twenty men he now commanded. The Saudi spy network had integrated with the Iranian security measures seamlessly. These days the Revolutionary Guard didn’t know the Saudi spies were among them till it was far too late.