A Bitter Veil (26 page)

How did you do it?” Anna asked.

Roya answered. “Hassan has…resources.”

“But this…I would never have…I am so grateful.”

Hassan cut her off. “Don’t thank us yet. Your journey is just beginning.”

“What journey?”

“Listen carefully, Anna,” Hassan said. “You are going to be on a bus at daybreak. It will take you to Bazargan.”

“Bazargan?”

“It is a small town—part of Maku—near the border with Turkey. You will be met by a Kurdish man. He will be wearing a cleric’s garb. He has a car. He will have a valid Iranian passport for you and enough money to get you over the border.”

“An Iranian passport? How did he get it?”

Hassan didn’t answer. “The bus will drive to the customs terminal. You will meet him in front of the building. After you get through customs, he will drive you into Dogubeyazit, about twenty-five kilometers inside the border of Turkey. From there, you will change your rials into lira and dollars.”

“Why dollars?”

“They take dollars in Turkey. They love them,” Hassan said. “Once you are in Dogubeyazit you will buy a bus ticket to Ankara where you will go to the US Embassy. Once you arrive, the embassy will contact your father and get you an American passport. From there you will fly to America.”

Anna clapped her hand over her mouth. She wanted to believe the nightmare was coming to an end, but reality told her to remain cautious. “Who arranged this?”

“All of us,” Hassan said. “Baba-joon, your father—”

“Baba-joon?”

Hassan peered at her in the rearview mirror. “You have suffered enough. You don’t belong here. We know you did not kill Nouri.”

Anna eyed his reflection steadily. “Does that mean you know who did?”

Hassan hesitated. “I have suspicions, but no proof.”

Anna wondered if his were the same suspicions as hers. She reviewed what Hassan said, and she could almost taste her freedom. It was so close, just a breath away. But she couldn’t dwell on it. She had unfinished business. “I can supply the proof. But it’s at the house. I need to go there to get it.”

Hassan pulled to the side of the road. He twisted around, his eyes wide. “You know who killed Nouri?”

“I had nothing but time in Evin. To think and reflect. Yes, I know who killed him. And I need to set things right.”

Hassan stared at Anna as if he wanted to say something, but Roya chimed in. “Are you crazy? There is no time to waste. You must leave Iran before they realize you are gone. You will come to my house—we will hide you until dawn. Then you will get on the bus. That is the plan.”

“Roya, this is something I need to do before I leave.”

Roya shook her head. “You cannot go back to the house in Shemiran. The Guards are monitoring it.”

Anna crossed her arms. “Are they there all the time? Twenty-four hours?”

Roya glanced at Hassan.

“No,” he conceded. “But they can show up at any moment.”

Anna’s chin jutted out. “You’re a Guard. You can deflect them if need be. I must do this. It will only take a few minutes. Then we will go to the Samedis.”

Roya was still shaking her head. “No. It’s not possible.”

“Look.” Anna’s voice was unyielding. “I…I know things between Nouri and I fell apart. But it wasn’t always that way. In the beginning, when we met…when we first came to Iran…” Her voice cracked, and she fell silent. She bit her lip. When she spoke again, her voice was strong. “I need…I want to make things right. For Nouri. I owe it to his memory. To who he used to be. And the promise of what we might have become.”

“Out of the question,” Roya said. “It has been arranged. Baba-joon will come to my house with the bus ticket. He wants to say good-bye.”

“Tell me,” Hassan said. “Who killed Nouri? Once you are safely gone, I will see that justice is served.”

Anna’s chest went tight. In Evin, then in the hospital, she’d had all the time in the world to think things through. Now there wasn’t a moment to spare. The truth was that her need to seek justice was not motivated simply by her memory of Nouri. The grief at losing her baby was motivating her, too. The baby hadn’t been conceived in love, she knew, but she’d come to hunger for the child anyway. She’d planned to shower it with all the love and attention she herself never had. But whoever killed Nouri—and framed her for the murder—had robbed her of that chance.

She could leave it to Hassan. She did believe—now—that he wanted to see justice served. But what if he couldn’t make good on his promise? Family was everything in Iran. In many cases, it was the only thing Iranians had left. How could she be sure Hassan would step up to the plate? Or that Baba-joon would let him? In times of crisis, a family often unites to face a common enemy. It was too risky. If anyone took action, it had to be Anna. Even if it meant staying in Iran for a few more hours.

“Roya, Hassan, I know you mean well. But it must be me. There is no time to argue.”

“That much we agree on,” Hassan said. “But doing this might mean you’ll be caught. And this time they will make sure you never escape. Are you prepared to take that chance?”

Anna jiggled her foot. “I thought it would be impossible to get out of Evin. But you made it possible. If Allah, or whatever god exists, wants me to leave Iran, it will happen.”

Hassan and Roya murmured in Farsi. Anna thought Hassan wanted to let her go, but Roya kept shaking her head.

Anna cut in. “Hassan, if I find what I’m looking for at the house, there is one last thing I need you to do.”

*****

The house Anna had lived in with Nouri was shrouded in empty darkness. An official document was taped to the gate, which made Anna wonder if their belongings had been confiscated. If so, what she was searching for might be gone. She hesitated, then climbed out of the car and hurried to the gate. It was unlocked, which gave her more pause. Were there people inside? Maybe the Foundation had allowed squatters to move in. They could be sleeping in her bed.

Silently, she opened the gate, squeezed through, and stopped at the edge of the patio. The house looked abandoned. There were no shoes or objects on the patio, no lights inside, nothing to indicate anyone was occupying the house. But how to know for sure? She shook off her fear, opened the gate wider, and beckoned to Hassan and Roya.

The tiny pool in the yard was clogged with leaves from the chenar tree. They swirled in slow motion. Clearly, no one had been attending to it. A wave of sadness washed over her. Imagining the destruction was one thing; seeing it was another. Then she squared her shoulders. There would be time to grieve later. She went to the front door and tried to open it. It was locked. She turned around. Hassan and Roya were watching her. Roya flipped her palms up in a question.

Anna and Nouri had always left a key buried in a small box under the chenar tree. She backtracked to the tree, knelt down, and scrabbled in the dirt. She retrieved the box, removed the key, and hurried back to the door.

The faint stench of rotting garbage assaulted her as they entered the house. Perversely, Anna considered it a good sign. No one was there—if someone was, surely they would have emptied the trash. She looked around. Silent shadows loomed, heavy and thick. Anna tiptoed around them, reluctant to disturb their weight by turning on lights.

She let out a soft cry as she walked into the living room. Even in the dim light she could see the mess. Someone had tossed the place. Bookshelves were stripped; shards of china that had once formed beautiful bowls were flung into corners. Someone had stolen the framed photographs, knickknacks, and candlesticks. The cushions of the couch were gone, too.

Anna went into the kitchen. Most of the drawers were open and gaped at her from different angles. Her good silver was gone; so was her Wedgewood china. As she passed the knife rack, she noticed the steak knives had disappeared too. To be used as evidence against her, no doubt. Anna felt tears rimming her eyes. All this needless destruction. She turned around to Hassan and Roya. “I’m going upstairs. I’ll just be a minute. You stay here and watch for the Guards.”

In the bedroom she nearly flipped on the light, then caught herself. Her fingers still on the switch, she shivered at how close she’d come to making a mistake. Roya had a point. There was no guarantee that what she was attempting to do would work, and time was scarce.

She stripped off the nurse’s uniform and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then grabbed the chador hanging on a hook on the door. She opened the safe in the bedroom—thankfully, no one had changed the combination—and felt around in the dark. Nothing was inside. She wasn’t surprised.

“Hurry, Anna,” Roya murmured from downstairs.

Anna glanced out the window. The curtain of night was lightening to gray. Dawn was not far off. Anna closed the safe. Coming out of the bedroom, she hung the chador over the railing and climbed to the third floor. The closet. She grabbed the doorknob and twisted. It opened easily. She felt her brows knit together. Shouldn’t it have been locked?

She peered inside. Five shelves were stacked with linens, blankets, and cold weather clothes. For some reason, the items here hadn’t been ransacked. She wondered why, then pushed the thought away. She moved aside the blankets on the top shelf and inspected the back of the closet. She saw nothing except smooth wall. She did the same with the second shelf. Still nothing. It wasn’t until the third shelf that she saw what she was looking for. The bare outline of a panel built flush into the wall, painted the same color. A secret compartment. Probably a second safe. One that Nouri had never told her about.

Anna couldn’t resist a triumphant smile. She remembered how Laleh had retrieved a bottle of liquor from the Samedis’ secret safe the day Baba-joon was taken. How Laleh suddenly realized she’d probably revealed something she hadn’t intended to and clammed up. Anna also recalled how Laleh, fresh out of architecture school, bragged about contributing to the design of their Shemiran house. This had to have been Laleh’s idea.

Anna’s triumph was temporary. She ran her hands along the frame, looking for a latch or crack to release in order to open it. But everything around the panel was smooth. The safe was locked. And there was no combination assembly. She frowned.

Hassan called up. His voice was raw with tension. “Anna. We must go.”

“Can you find a knife in the kitchen? Small, but with a sharp blade?”

“Anna, please.”

“Just do it.” Even she was surprised by the power in her voice.

Hassan hurried upstairs and fished a switchblade out of his pocket. “Use this.” He handed it to Anna. “But be quick.”

She flipped open the blade and slid it along the tiny crack at the top of the panel. It wouldn’t go in. She turned to Hassan. “You try.”

He leaned into the closet, studied the panel, ran his fingers along the top and bottom. Then he wedged the blade along the panel at the top. This time it went in. Hassan slid the blade from right to left, and as he did, they heard a click as if a latch had been tripped. The front of the panel protruded from the wall about half an inch. Anna pulled it open.

Inside was a treasure trove of gold coins, stacks of rials, necklaces, rings, and bracelets. There were also papers, which looked like bond or stock certificates. Small velvet bags with drawstrings. Brooches and earrings. Anna’s jaw dropped. Hassan stared. Nouri
had
been skimming from the Martyrs’ Foundation. He’d been storing the plunder here. She looked at Hassan. He was watching her, waiting for her reaction.

But Anna was still processing it. She tried to guess how long Nouri had worked for the Foundation—about four months, she thought. She dipped her hand into the safe and picked up a sapphire necklace. A vague memory came over her. Wasn’t this necklace worn by one of the guests at their wedding? She thought she recalled Laleh—or was it Maman-joon—complimenting the woman who was wearing it. She’d bought it in Antwerp for a steal.

As she fingered the necklace, Anna’s eyes grew hot. A petty thief. That was what Nouri had been reduced to. Someone who had to steal, then fence the possessions of people he knew—his parents’ friends—to make ends meet. Sadly, it was the perfect job for someone in his circumstances. Perhaps the only job someone like him could have done. He knew who had what. He told the Foundation who to target, and the Foundation followed through. Anna tried to swallow, but her throat was thick. Despite her repugnance at what Nouri had done, she understood that he’d been providing for them the only way he knew.

“What is it?” Hassan asked.

Anna didn’t answer. There was plenty of blame to go around. Anna hadn’t known what Nouri was doing, but she should have. She’d been so miserable, so eager to leave Iran, that she never wondered where their money was coming from. She assumed Baba-joon was still supporting them—although, in retrospect, she saw that was impossible, given that his possessions had been confiscated, and he was in jail. Had she not been so wrapped up in her own despair, perhaps she would have known the Foundation wasn’t paying Nouri enough.

She stared at the sapphire necklace. Weren’t there earrings to match? Yes. She remembered the woman at the wedding touching her ear, blushing with false modesty as Maman-joon made a fuss over the jewelry. Laleh had praised it too. How the set was one of a kind. So exquisite and stunning. Now, Anna searched for the earrings. They were not in the safe. But they were part of a set. Why would Nouri fence them separately? Unless he was desperate. Or someone else was.