Welch, D [Shadow People 02] Shadow Spies Page 22

  A shadow covered his newspaper and he looked up. The figure of a woman, outlined by the afternoon sun stood behind him. He turned and shaded his eyes with his hand.

  “Miss Baraghani, how delightful it is to see you again.”

  She looked around the cafe, searching all the tables, apparently for a place to sit.

  Edward gestured to the vacant seat at his table. “Please. –Sit with me. All the others seem to be taken.” He laughed. “I promise I won’t knock you in the head again.”

  With a little reluctance, she sat opposite him in the shade of the umbrella and placed her handbag on the table.

  Edward studied her. She seemed a little anxious. “Are you waiting for someone?”

  She shook her head. “No, actually I’m trying to avoid someone.”

  “Who?”

  She nibbled her lower lip. “Major Owens. I evaded him at the Embassy, but I think he may have followed me.”

  Edward sympathized. He knew that despite all the changes enacted by decree of the Shah, a single woman in Iran who desired to adopt Western practices walked a precarious tightrope. In the past mere venturing outside without being properly covered from view by a chador was an invitation to censure, rape or stoning. Having males actively pursue her could create problems with her family. Marriages were still an arranged matter by the father, except in rare cases, and the woman was expected to be unquestionably above censure and chaste on her wedding day.

  “Can I be of assistance? I could talk to Commander Rice.”

  “I – I don’t know. Maybe I’ll quit the Embassy.” She grimaced. “The major can’t seem to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  The thought of never seeing her again, even if at a distance, raised his defensive hackles.

  “No, that’s not necessary. Trust me. I’ll take care of it.”

  Suddenly, her face fell and her brows knitted. “Damn! He’s here.”

  Edward looked behind to see Major Owens approaching the table with a determined look on his face. His eyes betrayed surprise when he saw Edward sitting with her.

  “Lieutenant –what are you doing here?”

  Edward raised his glass. “Having a cuppa. Won’t you join us?”

  He turned, grinned, and winked at Dorri, then waved to the waiter.

  Owens pulled out a chair and sat. “That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant.”

  Still grinning, Edward ordered glasses of hot coffee for all of them. The waiter nodded and left.

  “Please Major, I insist –mine’s cool and I could use a refresher.” He sat back in the chair. “Well now, what should we talk about?”

  An uncomfortable silence settled around the table.

  Major Owens glared. “I had hoped to talk to Dorri alone, Lieutenant.”

  Edward feigned puzzlement. “Who?”

  He looked at Dorri. “Oh you mean Miss Baraghani? Pardon me, I had no idea you two were on a first name basis.”

  Dorri frowned. “We’re not. Major Owens is being presumptuous.” She crossed her arms and looked away.

  Owens appeared about to reply but the waiter, balancing a tray of glasses of hot coffee, interrupted him. Edward watched as he deftly circulated around the table, depositing the beverages in front of Dorri and then Major Owens. He waited until just the right moment and then abruptly stood up.

  His shoulder hit the tray upending it. He congratulated himself on his accuracy as the remaining glass of steaming hot coffee fell directly onto Major Owens crotch.

  Owens screamed and leaped out of the chair. He danced around, clutching the front of his trousers and trying to hold the material away from his privates.

  Edward didn’t dare laugh. He assumed an apologetic and solicitous look and tried, half-heartedly, to assist by dabbing at the Major’s trousers with a napkin.

  “I’m dreadfully sorry Major, how clumsy of me! Here, let me help!”

  Owens’ red face twisted in agony. “Bloody, stupid fool! Get away from me!”

  Edward glanced at Dorri. She sat at the table holding her hand over her mouth, a look of astonishment and amusement in her eyes.

  He returned his focus to Owens. “Here Major, we should find a taxi to return you to the Embassy. That scald may need the attention of a physician.”

  Edward flagged one of numerous taxies circulating through the city and hustled Owens into it. He paid the driver and watched as the motorcar merged with the traffic.

  Returning to the table, he sat opposite a convulsing Dorri. She laughed so hard that tears rolled from her eyes.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” she said, between bouts of giggling.

  Edward replied with an innocent expression. “Did what?”

  His comment started her laughter again and she gasped for breath to calm herself.

  “Major Owens isn’t going to be very happy with you.”

  Edward sobered. “The Major’s a boor. His behavior seemed obsessive, so I cooled – perhaps I might say, scalded – his ardor.”

  Dorri giggled again.

  She managed to control herself and her laughing eyes appraised him. “Perhaps I was wrong about you, Lieutenant.”

  Edward leaned forward folding his forearms on the table. “Wrong? In what way?”

  She sat back in the chair staring at him. “My first impression was that you were like all the other military men at the Embassy, but now I don’t think so.”

  He grinned. “Don’t let my innocent looks deceive you, Miss Baraghani. I can assure you I can be quite a rake when the mood strikes me.”

  Her eyes still remained fixed on him. She hesitated and then leaned forward. “Dorri.”

  Edward raised an eyebrow. “Dorri?”

  She smiled. “You can call me Dorri, Edward.”

  He grinned. “You mean all I had to do was maim Major Owens to become on a first name basis with you? –Where is he? I think next, I’ll light him on fire.”

  Dorri laughed again, her flashing violet eyes reflecting mischief. “I’m afraid you’re destined for trouble with Owens, Edward.”

  He shrugged. “Been there before, Dorri. You needn’t worry. He’ll not bother you or me again.”

  It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you have connections I’m not aware of? Is the Ambassador a personal friend?”

  Edward ignored her probing. “No, a British officer’s expected to maintain certain standards of conduct. I’ll simply remind him of his obligations. It should be sufficient.”

  Dorri looked skeptical but didn’t reply.

  If it came to a confrontation he outranked Owens and Owens knew it, having been briefed about his mission. In any case, he admitted to himself, he planned to use Dorri as a source of information about the mood of the Iranian people, and his status as an MI5 operative trumped Major Owens’ amorous intentions. But he also knew deep inside that the real reason he pursued her was that he desired her and wanted to spend more time with her.

  “Let’s ignore the subject of Major Owens, Dorri. You mentioned that your mother was British. Was she an expatriate?”

  “No, Mother worked for the British Embassy as an interpreter. She met my father at an ambassadorial reception and eventually they fell in love. Father’s first wife had died giving birth to my brother and he’d vowed never to marry again. That is, until he met my mother. She gave birth to me and my sister. She died of cancer eight years ago.”

  “So that makes you British citizens, correct?”

  Dorri frowned. “Not quite, but Mother ensured we’d acquire citizenship. She sent us, my sister and me, to lodge with some of her relatives for a year in London. We acquired citizenship then. We have dual citizenship, British and Iranian. That’s how I’m able to work at the Embassy.”

  Edward stroked his jaw. “Baraghani, that’s quite an unusual name.”

  Dorri shook her head. “Not in Iran. Here it’s quite famous. Some say that the name can be traced back to the original Seven Houses, the Haft Khandan. The legend’s over two thousand years old, dati
ng back to the Parthian emperors.”

  Edward knew all of this, but he’d wanted to confirm it while not revealing his knowledge of Middle Eastern traditions.

  “Is Dorri an Iranian name? It sounds more Western.”

  She smiled. “My father named me. In Farsi it means, ‘a sparkling star glittering like an amethyst’.”

  It certainly fits her, he thought, staring at her. “Very appropriate.”

  She blushed. “I like it. It also helped me in America while I attended college. It sounds Western, so people had no difficulty in accepting it.” She propped her chin with her hands to either side of her cheeks and her elbows resting on the table. “So, how about Rowan? Is it a famous name in Great Britain?”

  Edward chuckled. ‘Mongrels, I’m afraid. Mostly with no pretentions toward nobility, although there’ve been some who’ve tried.”

  Her distracting eyes bored into him, causing a flighty feeling in his middle. “Do your parents still live?”

  Feeling nervous under her scrutiny, he broke eye contact.

  “My mother’s living in Scotland. My father was a RAF pilot during World War Two. He was killed in the Battle of Britain and she never remarried, so I’m an only child. Father left Mother comfortably well off, so we never lacked for money. In fact I graduated from Oxford before I enlisted.”

  It amazed him that he’d provided so much detail about his life. Dorri’s breathtaking presence seemed to elicit his trust. He speculated that she’d make a formidable agent provocateur but dismissed it.

  After a few more mutual exchanges of family history, he decided to probe a bit.

  “So, how did your father come to be at the Embassy when he met your mother?”

  Dorri sat back and gazed around the cafe. “Father’s on good terms with the Shah and his son, Reza the Crown Prince. The occasion was the celebration of the Shah’s marriage to Queen Soraya.”

  Her eyes strayed back to him and her look became wistful and dreamy. “Such a tragedy. Love poems are written of it. She couldn’t bear children, you know, and the Shah had to divorce her. The rumors are that he never stopped loving her, even though he married again. Of course, the new Empress is a wonderful woman. I’ve met her.”

  Edward’s curiosity peaked. “You’ve met Empress Farah?”

  Dorri smiled and nodded. “As I said, my father’s a favorite of the Shah.” She blushed. “At one time there was talk of an arranged marriage between me and the Crown Prince, but as I’m five years older than him nothing came of it.”

  Edward did a quick mental calculation. “So that makes you what? Twenty-two or twenty-three years old?”

  “Twenty-three. I was sent to the United States to attend the University of California in San Diego.” She shrugged. “I graduated, and here I am, at a cafe in the center of Tehran, talking to you.”

  Edward leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and staring intently at her.

  “A very fortuitous set of circumstances on my part.”

  Dorri blushed again. “People are looking, Edward.”

  Edward leaned back and cocked his head while maintaining eye contact. “Ah...quite. Mustn’t give any hint of impropriety. Will I see you around the Embassy?”

  She smiled coyly. “I think so. We’ll see how it goes.”

  Chapter 3

  Tehran – Summer 1977

  Dorri exited the taxi and paid the driver while ignoring the leers he directed at her.

  She walked along the paved path to the side of her family’s home and entered the cool inner courtyard, looking for her father.

  The attitude of the taxi driver caused her to seethe at the restrictions placed upon females in Iran. His attitude was typical of the generations of traditional beliefs and male prejudice toward women.

  Although she knew the history of conquest and religion that had caused it and could forgive some of it, she still yearned for the freedom she’d experienced in America. The Shah’s decrees concerning women and the wearing of the chador only served to remove the surface appearance.

  Deep inside where it still festered, Iranian men viewed women who dressed in Western clothes as whores and most Iranian women felt naked if they left home without cloaking themselves.

  Fearing it would never change, she’d often thought about living in a free country like Great Britain or even the U.S. and not returning to Iran, but she’d waited too long and now it was impossible. More worrying, she’d sensed a lot of anti-American sentiments among the people she’d encountered here, particularly students, and she worried that it might all boil over.

  If it did, her family would be caught in the middle.

  She found her father in the pool room reading a book. When she entered he looked up, speaking Farsi. “Ah... Dorri, how fared your day?”

  Dorri didn’t want to answer that question truthfully, because if she did it would cause too many complications. “Just a normal day at the Embassy father, taking dictation, running errands, interpreting. You know, the same.”

  He stroked the well-trimmed gray beard that rounded his jaw. “Has the Major caused more problems?”

  She struggled to not smile. “No, and I think the major will not trouble me again. He’s had a dressing down about his behavior.”

  Her father’s clear gray eyes appraised her. “I see. Well, we won’t concern ourselves about it any longer, will we?”

  Dorri shook her head, but her smile emerged unbidden and she laughed. “You always see through me, father.”

  He matched her laughter and spread his arms to hug her. She moved to his side and they embraced.

  She laid her head on his chest and sighed. “I’ve met someone.”

  His voice rumbled in his chest. “Oh? And who might that be?”

  An image of Edward swam in her mind, jet black wavy hair, alarming deep blue eyes, and broad shoulders filling the tailored suit jacket he wore.

  “A man.” She laughed again. “Another British officer.”

  Her father lifted her from his chest and stared at her.

  “You haven’t learned from the last encounter?”

  She lowered her gaze to the floor. “Edward isn’t like that, father, he’s different.”

  Her father’s eyes rounded and his eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Edward? So you call him by his first name. –Different in what way?”

  She bit her lip. “He treats me as an equal, allows me to be as I am. I can’t define it, it’s just...different.”

  “Do you plan to bring him to visit the family?”

  “No...Maybe...I don’t know. All I know is how I feel. –I feel...unusual around him.”

  Her father gripped both her arms, forcing her to look at him. “This is something you must weigh carefully, Dorri. You know the danger we all face and I had hoped...”

  “I’ll not be traded like a herd of goats, Father,” Dorri replied with heat. “I’ll choose my own destiny.”

  His shoulders slumped and he sighed. “You’re like your mother. –I suppose I should have expected nothing less.” He changed the subject. “Shalizeh visited my office today.”

  She felt relieved to not be in the spotlight. “And how was my sister?”

  Her father grinned. “Glowing. It seems marriage agrees with her.”

  She chuckled. “I should think so, since they’ve only been married a year.”

  His grin widened to a smile. “She had news. It seems she’s expecting a child.”

  Dorri squealed and clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful. I’m going to be an aunt!” She glanced around the room. “Is she here?”

  Her father’s smile vanished. “No, she said she didn’t want to be found anywhere near Behrouz.”

  Dorri’s mood darkened again. “And just where is my older brother now?”

  He looked worried. “God knows it. He plays a dangerous game, Dorri. I fear for his safety.”

  She became angry. “You should fear more for our safety, father. Behrouz could bring our entire House down with his stupid
ity. You warned him to not become involved with the Tudeh. The Shah outlawed the Communists and if it were reported to the SAVAK, the secret police could doom us all.”

  He seemed subdued, as though diminished in stature, and he didn’t reply.

  Dorri hugged him again, regretting her words. “Do not listen to me father. Have you forgotten I’m only a female?” She grinned mischievously.

  He laughed. “Never! But I suspect the world has yet to realize that.”

  Dorri laughed. “So, how was your day?”

  He hesitated a moment. “Worse, I think, than yours.”

  Her eyes widened. “The bazaari?”

  He nodded, a solemn expression clouding his features. “The Shah may have no choice but to grant concessions. The bazaari merchants wield considerable political influence. I fear the whole country may be unraveling.”

  * * *

  Later that evening, as Dorri sat curled up on the divan reading a novel, the double doors of her bedroom burst open, revealing her brother standing at the entryway. She felt a flush of fear. She despised her half-brother, but she also knew he had the power to make her life miserable.

  Overcoming her dread, she lashed out. “Behrouz! Have you no sense of propriety or decency? I could have been dressing.”

  His twisted grin held menace. “It matters not sister, since you have no sense of decency.”

  She felt her anger rise and her face flush. “Get out of my room!”

  He hesitated, frowning. “Not before I’ve had my say.”

  She spoke through gritted teeth. “Say it and then leave.”

  Exuding menace, he took his time. “You were seen in the company of one of the Englishmen this afternoon.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And that concerns you? –In what way?”

  His nasty smile grew wider. “I’ve just returned from a meeting with two of the Houses. They want to know what the Englishman’s doing in Tehran.”

  Dorri’s anger surged again. “He’s working for the British Embassy, you fool!”

  Behrouz swayed forward and raised his hand as though he meant to hit her. “Father won’t be head of our House forever, Dorri, and when I’m in his place, your insolence won’t be tolerated.”