CHAPTER TEN
KIRSTEN
I was enjoying the sunshine on the balcony from our bedroom the next afternoon when a Jeep pulled up, not out of the ordinary really, but one of the men didn’t seem to fit in. He was looking around to much, like he was trying to make a map in his head. His shoes were Western and his skin was paler than all of the men he had arrived with.
Bolting down the stairs I prayed he had not locked the door at the bottom.
Shit, he had. I banged furiously on the door and gratefully a very annoyed Arianna opened it.
“Where is he?”
She shrugged.
“Arianna, this is important, I have to see him, NOW!”
She led me down the hall and more stairs, the same route I had followed him up seemingly a lifetime ago. She stopped at the top of another set of stairs and pointed down them. I raced down into the cool damp air toward the voices.
My presence was not met warmly, by any of them.
“What are you doing down here,” he barked at me. A tone he had never flung my way before and for the first time I glimpsed the monster lurking within him.
“The men in the Jeep who just showed up, do you know them?”
“Why?” his expression and tone remained the same. He did not want me in this part of his life.
“There is a soldier with them. One of our soldiers,” I said, my voice shaking now. I looked around at the cache of weapons lining the walls.
He pushed past me and out into the courtyard where the men in the Jeep were still talking with his men. No one knows what Farid looks like, but the reaction of just one of his men to his presence could easily announce this was a man of power, but they didn't betray him. He casually joined in on the conversation. Giving the men equal attention. The soldier paid him no more mind than the others.
“Fuck!” he roared when he returned to the barracks where I remained, uncertain of what to do, for the first time fearing what was about to happen next.
“It's time for you to go,” he looked at me. I stared back, tears filling my eyes, my throat rapidly closing. “Go, get upstairs, pack your things. Do it!”
I raced up the stairs. My entire body trembling.
“I can’t keep you safe anymore,” he said quietly from behind me.
“So how does this work? Are you asking for something in return or do we just drive up to the embassy and say ‘Hey, here she is.’”
“Closer to the latter.” He sat on the bed, rubbed his hand across his face and exhaled deeply.
“I’ll turn you over to the Swiss in Tehran. They will take it from there,” he stared at the floor.
“What do I tell them?”
“Whatever you want. The truth if you want, although they will chalk that up to Stockholm Syndrome and stick you in therapy for the rest of your life. Regardless you will be followed and your phone and internet will be tapped to see if I reach out to you...or you to me. I’m afraid I’m just sending you to a different type of prison.”
I moved to him and he took my hands and pulled me in between his legs. “You need to move on, forget me.”
“I feel like I just signed your death warrant,” I choked.
“No, sheereen-am, I did that myself years ago.”
“I won’t tell them what you look like,” I promised him.
“They will not make that easy. You hold the one key to finding me they’ve never had.” His fingers stroked the backs of my hands as my tears dripped from my chin to them. “You don’t have to protect me. I’m prepared for this.”
“I’m not,” I cried. He stood and silenced my cry with a gentle kiss, holding his lips to mine, letting our breath mingle.