The Ayatollah's Money

by Richard Dorrance

  Chapter 24 – The Flunky Gets a Dangerous Promotion

  The Aya was handed the daily briefing report by his chief of staff, an occurrence he was coming to dislike more and more. He sighed and read it. Those fortycelestialvirgins better had be worth all these terrestrial tribulations. More Mossad commandos had been detected tunneling towards the Ardekan nuke site, this time from the north. This team had gotten to within half a mile, which was some achievement considering they had started forty miles away. Another concern was that one of the Lessers was making noises about challenging him for supreme authority. This guy was a joke, but he had some powerful support among the hardcore sect that thought The Aya’s daily dallying with terrestrial virgins was sacrilege. They believed that every such dalliance reduced by one the quantity of true virgins available to a true believer when they migrated to the other side, and that fooling around on this side showed a lack of judgment. And then there was the American Secretary of State who just had held a press conference in Vienna with the UN inspection team, saying that the next round of sanctions and embargos against Iran would include the ingredient of concrete that caused it to harden, and toilet paper. That little fucker, tightening the screws down again. What would the people think of that last item on the list? Every morning the briefing report had more stuff like this. Never a let up.

  He waved the chief of staff flunky out of his apartment and told him to send in the domestic flunky, who came running. “Yes, Your Holiness?”

  “How you doing this morning, Shazam?”

  The guy fell down on his stomach, prostrate and quivering. Never before had The Big Guy called him by his name. Never before had he asked him how he was? Never. This was bad. “Very well, Your Holiness. How may I serve you?”

  “Get up, Shazam. Sit on the bed over there. Pour yourself a cup of tea.”

  The flunky walked towards the unmade bed of his boss and tried to sit down, but his sub-conscience wouldn’t let his butt touch that sacred territory. He knew that some of the virgins, using that term loosely, couldn’t bring themselves to lay down on his bed, despite his emphatic entreaties to do so, and remained standing, bent over one of the chairs, which in the end always worked for him. Shazam made an attempt to sit on the bed, but couldn’t, and moved over to one of the chairs, next to which was a side table with a pot of green tea on it. As he poured himself a cup of tea, a tink tink tink sound came from the spout of the china pot rattling against the rim of the china cup. His nervousness ran from his brain down his arm to the hand that was holding the pot. He looked at the tea in the cup, wanting to take a sip, but knowing he couldn’t even swallow his own spit his mouth was so dry.

  “You remember when I asked if you are good with computers?” Shazam nodded, remembering his fateful decision to say, yes. “You said you knew about the interview thing, and could figure out how one bank talks with other banks?”

  “The internet. Yes, Your Holiness.”

  “Is that true? Can you look at the thingy of a bank and figure out where other thingies in the bank are?”

  “What do you mean by thingies, Your Holiness?”

  “Money. What else are in banks? Money. Can you figure out where money that was in a bank went to?”

  “Maybe, Your Holiness. There are very few computer things I’ve tried that I haven’t been able to do. I think so, Your Holiness.”

  This wasn’t what The Aya wanted to hear. He wanted the flunky to say yes, absolutely, easy, I can do it. Now, he had to take a chance with this Shazam guy. He didn’t know anyone else he could trust, considering that almost everyone in Iran hated his guts for one reason or another, and he remained in power through shear political power and the muscle of his mercenary Revolutionary Guard Corps. He thought about the morning briefing report, and how it was the same as every other morning briefing report, and he was getting too old to deal with this shit day after day, and needed to retire in comfort to the ‘St.’ something island in the Caribbean, and wait patiently for the day when he would convert from the second rate terrestrial virgin corp to the first rate celestial virgin corp, as promised about 300 times in the blessedly infallible Koran.

  “Shazam, something happened a few weeks ago. Something on the computer. It’s something personal to me, not associated with my formal and consecrated duties as spiritual big dog leader on the Muslim block. This has nothing to do with our blessed country. Understand?”

  The cup Shazam was holding started rattling in the saucer. It seemed certain The Big Guy was going to divulge a secret, and people who lived or worked in the central complex knew what happened to people who knew secrets. They ended up fertilizing the desert. Why oh why had he said he knew about computers? What was wrong with being a domestic flunky, cleaning up the bathroom after the boss had used it, beating the bushes for new companions (never the same one twice), bringing tea and pita bread triangles, occasionally dipping into the medicinal cognac hidden in the closet and serving it up when the stress levels got really high? That wasn’t too bad, was it? Now, danger. “I understand, Your Holiness.”

  “How would you like a raise, say double your current salary?”

  “I am unworthy of such a sacrifice by the people of our great country, Your Holiness, from whom all blessings flow into our treasury. Allah tells us that a life lived in penury will be amply rewarded when we cross into the hereafter; and we all know the form and function of that great reward. At least, all us guys know. Sir. Your Holiness, sir.”

  “Yes, yes, you are right of course, and I applaud your sense of devotion and political correctness. There is no doubt you will get your share of the blessed never before consummated nooky in the future. But. There still are duties to be performed in the here and now, and I need you to perform one for me. Understand?” Shazam nodded, knowing his head was going in the noose. “This duty is private, very private, and you never can tell anyone about it, ok?” He felt the noose tighten. “The life of The Aya is demanding, and sometimes he is required to do things which may, to the lower classes, such as yourself, Shazam, seem puzzling. But let me assure you they all are done with the good of the people in mind. Some things are not what they appear to be on the surface, and I need help with one of these things now. Ok?”

  “Yes, boss. No one will ever know about your private sacrifices.”

  Now that was exactly what The Big Guy wanted to hear. Perfect. Maybe he could trust this flunky after all. Shazam said it very convincingly, and he was desperate. WHERE WAS HIS FUCKING MONEY? “I want you to turn the computer on, and go the interview site of the Bank of Tehran, and I want you to look at an account in which the People’s money is being held, in trust, for their future benefit. Let’s do it now.”

  Shazam bowed almost to the floor and scurried over to the twelfth century desk that had legs made out of the femurs and fibulas of Christian crusaders which had been delicately carved and polished by very great Islamic artisans. Three minutes later he had logged onto the bank’s website, at which point he felt something tickling the back of his neck. The Aya was leaning over his shoulder, and the tickling was coming from the tip of his long gray beard. The Aya often played a game with the virgins, where he ran the end of his beard up and down their naked bodies, lingering here and there at the special places. They all pretended this was great fun and a gift of divine intervention, direct from Allah himself; none of them complaining it smelled like camelhair in an old pillow, which it did. Shazam had heard the same thing from a lot of them, with some of the bolder ones telling him it was his job to bath The Big Guy and get him properly coiffed for his royal romps, and why wasn’t he doing it? Right now, with the smelly thing brushing the back of his neck, he decided those complaints were legitimate. “We’re there, boss. We’re at the Bank of Tehran. Now what?”

  The Aya went over to his desk where he removed the little illuminated manuscript booklet that held his account number and password. He held this in front of Shazam, who rea
lized what it was, and typed it into the webpage. Shazam thought, very catchy password, fortyvirginsforever, no spaces. Not likely to forget that one. They both waited for the bank’s computer to process the request and display the result. And there it was: goose egg ! Shazam was tempted to turn around and look at the bearded one, but something told him the goose egg was not what the bearded one wanted to see. The tickling moved from the left side of his neck to the right as the bearded one moved his head, hoping a view of the screen from a different angle would change the goose egg to $100,000,000. It didn’t. Shit. Shazam was inundated with sensory stimuli: the feel of the beard, the camelhair smell, to which now was added the sourness of The Aya’s stale breath as he exhaled deeply in frustration. Think what the virgins went through.

  Ok, so no miracle had come forth from The Really Big Guy, to whom The Big Guy was duly deferential. The money had not reappeared as simply as it had disappeared. So now he was at the mercy of Shazam’s computer skills. He said, “Something terrible has happened to a little of the People’s money, which I am holding in trust for them. It used to be in this account, and now it’s not there.” The Aya paused and thought, then he continued, “Actually, it was sort of in this account in the Bank of Tehran, but I was advised by a duly authorized and canonized financial staffer that it would be safer to keep this money in an account in a different country, due to the constant and insufferable hacking attempts by the nefarious CIA. You know who they are?”

  “Yes, Your Holiness. Very bad men, very bad.”

  “You got that right. Now, the money was in a different place, but the financial staffer made it so I could check on the safety of the money by looking at the Bank of Tehran’s interview site. And now it’s not there. The money isn’t there, like it usually is. Can you find it? Can you find the People’s money?” He stood up, which Shazam was thankful for as the tickling was about to drive him crazy.

  “I will try, Your Holiness. For the People, I will work day and night to track down the money.” He paused. “Where was the other account, Your Holiness? The account that was safe from the clutches of the CIA devils?”

  The Aya crossed the room and sat on his bed. The reality of the goose egg had sapped his energy. He looked at Shazam and said, “It’s in a bank on an island in the Caribbean. The financial staffer said the CIA didn’t know anything about this place. It’s called ‘St....St....St.’ something. I can’t remember. It’s supposed to be a nice place. Not like here, of course, but still nice, if you like that tropical paradise sort of thing, which of course I don’t.” He paused and looked at Shazam. “You don’t like that sort of place either, do you?”

  Shazam didn’t have a clue about what kind of place ‘St.’ something was, but he got the drift of the conversation and said, “No, Your Holiness. I have no interest in that kind of place. My kind of place is right here, with you, doing your bidding, and through you, the bidding of The Really Big Guy, who we both know watches over us, for better or for worse.”

  The Aya wasn’t sure about that last part, but let it slide. He said, “Look. This is important. Find the money, and you will be richly rewarded when you pass to the other side, and we know what that means, right?” He cast a knowing grin across the room to his new financial staffer.

  “Yes, Your Holiness, I know what that means, and I am grateful, and unworthy, to receive such vast and valuable compensation. I will do my best.”

  “Ok, good. But don’t forget your other duties. This is on top of those. Speaking of which, would there be a special friend available now? All this official work has left me wanting the council of one of our exalted sisters.”

  Shazam logged off the computer, and said, “I’m sure there is, Your Holiness. Let me check.”