“Your divorce presents no problem. Nor your remarriage.”
She gaped at him, speechless.
“Yes, I’ve agreed to a dowry, much more than I expected for…” He was going to say for a twice-divorced woman carrying an Infidel’s child, but she was his sister and it was a great match, so he did not. “The marriage will be next week and he’s admired you for years. Excellency Farazan.” For a moment both women could hardly believe their ears. Sharazad felt a sudden flush, disoriented even more. Keyvan Farazan was from a rich bazaari family, twenty-eight, handsome, recently back from Cambridge University, and they had been friends all of her life. “But… I thought Keyvan’s going to be ma - ”
“Not Keyvan,” Meshang said, irritated by her stupidity. “Everyone knows Keyvan’s about to be betrothed. Daranoush! Excellency Daranoush Farazan.” Sharazad was transfixed. Zarah gasped and tried to cover her lapse. Daranoush was the father, recently widowed of his second wife who had died in childbirth like his first, a very wealthy man who owned the monopoly for the collection of waste in the whole bazaar area. “It’s… it’s not possible,” she muttered.
“Oh, yes it is,” Meshang said, almost glowing with pleasure, totally misreading her. “I never believed it myself when he broached the idea after hearing about your divorce. With his riches and connections, together we become the most powerful conglomerate in the bazaar, togeth - ” Sharazad burst out, “But he’s loathsome and small and old, old and bald and ugly and he likes boys, and everyone knows he’s aped - ”
“And everyone knows you’re twice divorced, used, you’re with child by a foreigner,” Meshang exploded, “that you go on marches and disobey, your head’s filled with Western nonsense and you’re stupid!” He knocked over some of the plates in his fury. “Don’t you understand what I’ve done for you? He’s one of the richest men in the bazaar, I persuaded him to accept you - you’re redeemed and now you - ”
“But, Meshang, ha - ”
“Don’t you understand, you ungrateful bitch,” he bellowed, “he’s even agreed to adopt your child! By all the Names of God, what more do you want?” Meshang was almost purple, quivering with rage, his fist bunched, shaking it in Sharazad’s face, Zarah staring at her and then him, aghast at his fury as he ranted on.
Sharazad heard nothing, saw nothing, except what Meshang had decreed for her: the rest of her life joined to that little man, the butt of a thousand bazaari jokes, who stank perpetually of urine, fertilizing her once a year to bear and live and bear again until she died in childbirth or because of it - like his other two wives. Nine children from the first, seven from the second. She was doomed. Nothing she could do. Princess Night Soil until she died.
Nothing.
Nothing except I could die now, not by suicide, for then I’m forbidden Paradise and condemned to hell. Not suicide. Never. Never suicide but death doing God’s work, death with God’s name on my lips. What?
Chapter 64
KOWISS BASE: 1:47 P.M. Colonel Changiz, the mullah Hussain, and some Green Bands jumped out of their car. The Green Bands spread out over the base searching while the colonel and Hussain hurried into the office building. In the office the two remaining clerks were in shock at the suddenness of the colonel’s arrival. “Yes… yes, Excellency?”
“Where is everyone?” Changiz shouted. “Eh?”
“God knows we don’t know anything, Excellency Colonel, except Excellency Captain Ayre is gone with spares to Rig Abu Sal and Excellency Captain McIver with Excellency Minister Kia to Tehran and Excellency Captain Lochart went to search for the incoming 212s an - ”
“What incoming 212s?”
“The four 212s Excellency Captain McIver ordered here from Bandar Delam with pilots and other personnel and we’re getting… we’re getting ready to… to receive them.” The clerk, whose name was Ishmael, wilted under the penetrating stare of the mullah. “As God knows, the captain went alone, to look alone for them as they’ve no HF and an airborne VHF could perhaps reach them.”
Changiz was greatly relieved. He said to Hussain, “If the 212s are all coming here, there’s been a panic for no reason.” He mopped his brow. “When are they due?”
“I would imagine soon, Excellency,” Ishmael said.
“How many foreigners are on the base now?”
“I… I don’t know, Excellency, we’ve… we’ve been diligently busy trying to make up a manifest an - ”
A Green Band ran into the office. “We can’t find any foreigners, Excellency,” he said to Hussain. “One of the cooks said the last two mechanics went with the big helicopters this morning. Iranian laborers said they heard replacement crews were due on Sunday or Monday.” “Saturday, Excellencies, tomorrow we were told, Excellencies,” Ishmael interjected. “But with the incoming four 212s, they’ve mechanics on board as well as pilots and personnel, Excellency McIver said. Do you need mechanics?”
The Green Band was saying, “Some of the rooms - it looks as if the Infidels packed hurriedly, but there are three helicopters still in the hangars.” Changiz turned on Ishmael. “What’re those?”
“One… no two 206s and a French one, an Alouette.”
“Where’s Chief Clerk Pavoud?”
“He was sick, Excellency Colonel, he left sick just after noon prayers, and went home. Isn’t that so, Ali?” he said to the other clerk. “Yes, yes, he was sick and he left saying he would be back tomorrow…” the words trailed off.
“Captain McIver ordered the 212s here from Bandar Delam?” “Yes, yes, Excellency, that’s what he told Excellency Pavoud, I heard him tell him that exactly, with the pilots and other personnel, wasn’t that so, Ali?”
“Yes, before God, that’s what happened, Excellency Colonel.” “All right, that’s enough.” To Hussain the colonel said, “We’ll radio Lochart.” To the clerk he said, “Is Sergeant Wazari in the tower?” “No, Excellency Colonel, he went back to the base just before Excellency Captain Lochart took off to search for the four 212s that should arr - ” “Enough!” Colonel Changiz thought a moment, then said rudely to the Green Band, “You! Get my corporal on the double to the tower.”
The youthful Green Band flushed at the tone and glanced at Hussain who said coldly, “The colonel means, please find Corporal Borgali and bring him to the tower quickly.”
Changiz started blustering, “I meant no impoliteness of cour - ” “Of course.” Hussain stalked down the corridor toward the staircase that led to the tower. Very much chastened, Changiz followed.
Half an hour before, a telex had arrived at the air base from Tehran ATC asking for an immediate check on all IHC foreign personnel and helicopters at Kowiss: “.. .four 212s have been reported missing from IHC base at Bandar Delam by IHC Managing Director Siamaki, who believes they might have been illegally flown out of Iran to one of the Gulf states.”
At once Changiz had been summoned by the duty Green Band who had already taken the telex to Hussain and the komiteh. The komiteh was in session on the base, painstakingly continuing investigations into Islamic reliability of all officers and men, and into crimes committed against God in the name of the Shah. Changiz felt nauseated. The komiteh was pitiless. No one who had been pro-Shah had yet escaped. And though he was commandant, appointed by the komiteh with Hussain’s approval, confirmation from the all-powerful Revolutionary Komiteh had not yet arrived. Until that happened, Changiz knew he was on trial. And hadn’t he taken an oath of allegiance to the Shah personally, like every man in the forces?