Sharazad stared down at the crumpled figure, Ibrahim beside her now, the gun in his hand, shouts and more screams and a roar of rage from a thousand women pressing behind them.
Another shot, another man fell screaming. “Forward for God!” Lengehi cried over her own fear, her shout taken up by Ibrahim who tugged at Sharazad: “Don’t be afraid, forward for women…” She saw his confidence and for a moment mistook him for her cousin Karim so similar in height and build and face, then her terror and hatred at what had happened burst and she shouted, “Forward for my father… Down with zealots and Green Bands … down with murderers!” She grabbed Zarah. “Come on! Forward!” and she linked arms with her and with Ibrahim, her savior, so like Karim they could be brothers, and they started off again. More men were running to the front in support, the truck with the airmen among them. Another knife wielder came at them screaming. “God is Great…” Sharazad shouted, the horde with her, and before he was neutralized the screaming youth had slashed Namjeh Lengehi’s arm. Inexorably, the front ranks pressed forward, both sides roaring “God is Great,” both sides equally sure they were right. Then the opposition crumpled.
“Let them march,” a man shouted. “Our women are there too, some of them, there’re too many of them… too many…” Those men in the way backed off, others stood aside and now the way was clear. A roar of triumph from the marchers: “Allahhh-u Akbarrr… God is with us, sisters!” “Forward,” Sharazad shouted again and the march continued again. Those who were wounded were carried or helped to the side, the others streaming onward. Now the protest became orderly again. No more opposition barred their way though many men watched sullenly from the sidelines, Teymour and others photographing the militants.
“It’s a success,” Namjeh Lengehi said weakly, still walking in the front rank, a scarf staunching the flow of blood from her arm. “We’re a success - even the Ayatollah will know of our resolution. Now we can go home to our husbands and families. We’ve done what we wanted and now we can go home.” “No,” Sharazad said, her face pale and dirt-stained, not yet over her fright. “We must march tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow until the Imam agrees publicly to no enforced chador and to our rights.” “Yes,” Ibrahim said, “if you stop now the mullahs will crush you!” “You’re right, Agha, oh how can I thank you for saving us?” “Yes,” Zarah said, still shaken. “We will march tomorrow or those… those madmen will destroy us!”
The march proceeded without more trouble and this was the pattern in the cities, initial trouble then the peaceful protest continuing. But in the villages and small towns the march was stopped before it began and far to the south, in Kowiss, there was silence in the town square except for the sound of the lash and the screams. When the march had formed the mullah Hussain had been there. “This protest is forbidden. All women not dressed according to the hijab are liable to sentencing for public nakedness against the dictates of the Koran.” Only half a dozen women among two hundred were dressed in overcoats and Western dress.
“Where does it say in the Koran we disobey God if we don’t wear chador?” one woman shouted. She was the bank manager’s wife, and had been to Tehran University. Her appearance was modest, she wore an overcoat and a skirt but her hair was free.
‘“Oh, Prophet, say to thy wives and daughters and believing women, that they draw their veils closer to them…’ Iran is an Islamic state … the first in history. The Imam has decreed hijab. It is hijab. Go and dress properly at once!”
“But Believers in other lands aren’t required chador, nor do their leaders or husbands force them into it.”
“ ‘Men are managers of the affairs of women, for that God has preferred in bounty one of them over another… righteous women are therefore obedient… Those that you fear may be rebellious, admonish; banish them to their couches and beat them. If they then obey you, look not for any way against them.’ Go and cover your hair!”
“I will not. For more than forty years Iranian women have been unveiled an - ”
“Forty lashes will curb your disobedience! God is Great!” Hussain motioned to one of his acolytes. Others grabbed the woman and pinioned her. The whip soon ripped through the material on her back to the jeers of the men who watched. When it was over, the senseless woman was carried away. By other women. The rest went back to their homes. In silence.
There Hussain looked at his wife, her stomach huge with child. “How dare you join a protest of harlots and loose women?”
“It… it was an error,” she said, petrified. “It was a great error.” “Yes. You will have no food, only water for two days to remind you. If you weren’t with child you would have had the same, in the square.” “Thank you for being merciful, God bless you and keep you. Thank you …”
AT TEHRAN AIRPORT: 6:40 P.M. With Andrew Gavallan beside him, McIver drove out of the freight area onto the feeder road heading for their 125, ETLL, that was parked on the freight apron a quarter of a mile away. She had been back from Tabriz for about an hour and was refueled and ready for the return flight across the Gulf. When she had landed, Armstrong had thanked them profusely for allowing them the use of the airplane. So had Colonel Hashemi Fazir.
“Captain Hogg says the 125 returns on Saturday, Mr. Gavallan,” Hashemi had said politely. “I wonder if you’d be kind enough to give us a ride to Tabriz. Just one way this time, no need to wait, we can make our own way back.”
“Of course, Colonel,” Gavallan had said pleasantly, not feeling pleasant about either of the men. When he had arrived from Al Shargaz this morning McIver had told him at once, in private, why it was necessary to cooperate. “I’ll deal with that right smartly with Talbot, Mac,” he had said, furious at the blackmail. “CID or Special Branch notwithstanding!” They all held their hands over their ears as a giant USAF transport taxied past on its way to the distant takeoff point - one of the many U.S. government charters arranged to evacuate remaining American service and embassy personnel except for a skeleton staff. Superheated air from the jets tore up snow and washed over them. When Gavallan could make himself heard, he said, “Talbot left a message for you, Mr. Armstrong, and asked if you’d see him as soon as possible.” He saw the glance between the two men and wondered what it meant.
“Did he say where, sir?”
“No, just to see him as soon as possible.” Gavallan was distracted by a big black limo hurrying toward them, the official Khomeini flag on the fender. Two hard-faced men got out and saluted Hashemi deferentially, held the door open for him.