by Doug Welch
Edward leaned back in his seat. “Nice to see you too, Henry.”
Owens looked startled but regained his composure. “Sorry old man, I forgot my manners.” He removed his hand and crossed his arms, studying Edward. “Emily told me you were sliding downhill.”
“Sliding is the operative word, Henry, but not quite at the bottom. However, give me time. I’m sure I can bloody well get there.”
“Still no word on the diplomatic front?”
Edward barked a bitter laugh. “They’re too bloody occupied with the American hostage situation to worry about one insignificant woman.”
Owens grew quiet for a moment. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table.
“I received an unusual telephone call recently.”
Edward wondered why Owens seemed so furtive but decided to ignore it. “So? I’ve gotten a crank call every now and then. It’s not unknown.”
“This one was about Dorri.”
Edward’s focus narrowed. “What about Dorri? What did the caller say?”
“It was queer. At first I discounted it, but then I thought about it and decided you ought to know.”
“Out with it, Henry. What did the caller say?”
“He said if you wanted Dorri back you’d have to dispel shadows. When I asked what the bloody hell he was talking about, he said you’d understand. He gave me a time and place for a meeting and said you were to come alone.”
A chill ran along Edward’s spine. He gripped Owen’s arm. “Where? When does he want to meet?”
“I have it written down but, Edward, are you sure? You’re working for MI5. It could constitute an intelligence breech. You’re bound by the Official Secrets act and it could be a test of your loyalty.”
Edward shook his head. “No. It’s something only Dorri and I shared. If I confided it to you, you wouldn’t believe it. In fact, I don’t believe it. But if he knows about it, then he has information I need to hear.”
Owens’ look grew suspicious. “What’s this all about, Edward?”
Edward bit his lip. “It’s a family secret –Dorri’s family. I’m not at liberty to say.”
Owens still appeared unsure, but he reached into his pocket and slid a piece of paper across the table.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Edward.”
Edward sighed. “As do I, Henry. I sincerely hope I do.”
* * *
Edward exited from the underground entrance of an outlying, run-down section of London.
Finding the location of the meeting place, a mean looking pub, took only a few minutes. He entered the dark, smoky interior and scanned the crowd of rough, common men who clutched pints and conversed in low voices. He’d worn clothes to blend in with the crowd and hoped to escape notice, but they still eyed him as a stranger.
The note had specified that the caller would be sitting at a specific seat in the pub. At the rear of the room sitting in a booth with his back to the wall, he spied his contact.
Making his way through the crowd, he reached the booth and sat opposite him.
The man unfolded his arms and slid a mug toward him. “Have a pint, it’s on me.”
Edward studied him. He looked ordinary, his hair the same color brown as his eyes, with no facial hair and no identifying flaws. He appeared young, with very common face whose description could match the majority of the population, an almost perfect camouflage.
Edward ignored the mug. “When you called, you indicated you had some information about my wife.”
“No, Wing Commander, I didn’t.”
Irate, Edward rose to leave. The man placed a hand on his arm.
“How much would you give to get your wife out of Iran?”
Edward sighed and sat back down. “How much do you want? More than that, who are you?”
“My name is unimportant. Most know me as Shadoe. As to how much I want? I want everything – but not money.”
Edward gritted his teeth. “Stop talking in riddles and get to the point.”
“Very well, the point. –The point is, Wing Commander, I have the resources to smuggle you into Iran and provide an escape route out, but it’s up to you to rescue her.”
Edward disbelieved him. “How do I know you’re as good as your word?”
Shadoe splayed his hands on the table. “Your wife certainly told you about the unusual nature of her family, didn’t she?”
Edward reluctantly nodded.
He flashed a feral smile. “Your wife’s family is a Shadow House. I represent a large group of intelligence agents of all nationalities, American, Soviet, British... It doesn’t matter, because we’re all united behind a common goal.”
Edward decided he faced a madman, but it wouldn’t matter if he could help him rescue Dorri.
“And what is this goal?”
Shadoe maintained his smile. “Quite simply, we want to expose the Shadows for what they are and prevent them from ever meddling in human affairs again.”
His statement echoed Dorri’s stubborn insistence that the problems in Iran were the work of the five Shadow Houses. Although Edward didn’t believe in the existence of Shadow People, he’d suffered her sometimes virulent outbursts with amused skepticism.
“You’re quite mad, you know, how can you prove that something exists when you supposedly can’t see it?”
“Leave that to us. –Are you interested?”
Edward hesitated. If Shadoe wasn’t boasting or lying and could get him into Iran, he’d bring Dorri out or die trying.
“What’s the price?”
“You’ve made a name for yourself as an expert on the Middle East. We have a great deal of influence in high places and can use that to put you in critical positions. You’ll become a member of our network and provide us with reports on suspected Shadow activities and in return we’ll help you to recover your wife and child. Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention it. You’re a father now. You have a new baby girl, congratulations.”
Edwards’s heart sank. He suspected that Shadoe had been holding back the news of the birth of his child for an opportune moment, and he’d fallen into it. Now, nothing could hold him back.
“You’re gold-plated bastard but you win. I’m willing. How do we accomplish this?”
Chapter 14
Somewhere in Iran – Fall 1980
The last few days had overwhelmed Edward with surprises. After months of waiting, Shadoe had finally contacted him, giving him little time to ready himself. He suspected the swift action was deliberate.
They’d provided him with an assignment and a cover story. Ostensibly, he worked for MI5 in Turkey, gauging Iranian intentions, by questioning Iranian citizens who’d fled the country seeking asylum in a neighboring secular country. In reality, he’d flown from Turkey across Soviet Armenia and into Soviet Azerbaijan assisted by KGB agents. He didn’t ask how they’d managed it.
The whole trip had taken a little more than three days and seemed unreal. In Azerbaijan, a predominately Shia Muslim population, similar to the Shia majority in Iran, made the narrow border between the two countries porous. It was a favored spot for smugglers and communists to enter clandestinely into Northern Iran.
After crossing the border, he’d ridden in a covered lorry southeast along the coast of the Caspian Sea and then nearly due south toward the mountains.
Edward currently sat with his traveling companion, Ali, who drove, climbing over the mountains and heading south to Tehran. Ali spoke three languages, fluent Farsi, passable Russian and English with a horrendous accent. Since Edward was fluent in all three, it didn’t matter. The KGB agent looked like an Afghan, with a stocky, muscular body and a head of coal black hair thinning on top. His fierce looking face was pock-marked by smallpox scars mostly hidden by a bushy black beard. He’d indicated that his appearance helped him in Afghanistan where access to medical services tended to be sparse but was less effective in Iran.
“You haven’t spoken for the last two hund
red kilometers, Esmaeel,” Ali said in Farsi.
Esmaeel was the name they’d insisted Edward use because there was less likelihood of his accent betraying him. He’d felt a little insulted by their slur on his linguistic abilities but hadn’t objected.
“I’m still trying to assimilate it. I’m an MI5 operative being smuggled into Iran by a Soviet KGB agent posing as an Iranian, to abduct four, possibly five Iranian nationals from their homes and smuggle them out of Iran. Nothing could be more bizarre than that. If MI5 finds out about it, they’ll stand me in front of a firing squad twice. Once to shoot me and the second to make sure I don’t arise from the grave.”
Ali chuckled. “Working for the Shadow network gives rise to curious parings. I’ve collaborated with CIA agents who felt the same as you do. It just proves that whenever the human race confronts a common enemy, nationalities lose their importance.”
Edward nodded. “How did you come to be involved with the Shadow network?”
Ali shrugged. “I worked for the Municipal Police Militia in Moscow. One time while investigating some strange murders, I uncovered evidence of a conspiracy surrounding them, but the evidence or the witnesses disappeared or lost their memory and officials blocked the investigation. I was so disgusted with the obvious corruption, I resigned from the Municipal Police. Later I was contacted by an agent who convinced me that some shadowy organization was behind it and he asked me if I wanted to work for the Shadow network. They managed to get me a posting to the KGB and here I am.”
Edward suspected there was a lot more to the story that Ali wasn’t telling but chose to ignore it. “So far the mission has been smooth. I’m surprised at how easy it’s been, but I can’t help but think something will go wrong somewhere.”
Ali shrugged “As God wills it, so it will be. Just remember we’re two Azerbaijani, delivering a load of frozen fish to the market in Tehran and speak as little as you can. And keep those dark sunglasses on. Blue eyes are unusual in Azerbaijan.”
They’d darkened Edward’s face and hands with some kind of lotion, and he’d let his beard grow, but the disguise wouldn’t withstand close scrutiny. He suspected more than frozen fish lay stacked inside the lorry but hadn’t asked.
Almost two hours later they descended the mountain road and arrived at the outskirts of Karaj, a large city that blended into Tehran so that the two were like one sprawling metropolis with millions of inhabitants. The lorry seemed to crawl through the streets. Edward’s tension had increased with each mile that brought him nearer to Dorri and their slow progress through the busy streets plagued him with anxiety. Ali apparently had caught his mood and he tried to reassure him.
“Esmaeel, fretting will not bring your wife and child any closer. Have patience my friend. We still have a way to go and much to prepare. You’ll see them soon, I promise.”
Edward leaned his head back against the headrest and tried to calm his breathing. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“I know you’re right, Ali, but I can’t help it. To be so physically close, yet so far away in time is maddening. It makes me want to leap from the lorry and run through the streets.”
Ali laughed. “Ah – love, I’ve known love. It deprives a man of his wits. Keep your wits about you, Esmaeel. You’ll need them if something goes wrong.” He stared ahead as he drove through streets, leaning heavily on the lorry’s horn at crowds of pedestrians who sometimes blocked the way. “You know, Esmaeel, the Shadow network must value you highly. I’ve never seen this much effort being expended to help one man recover his lost wife.”
Ali’s words resurrected one of Edward’s fears because the KGB agent had opened a question that had worried him. Just why was Shadoe making this effort? Edward didn’t feel that he had some unique skill to offer. Surely there were others who could accomplish the same? Why Edward, and why now? The only logical answer lay in the fact that both Dorri and Shalizeh claimed to be Shadow hybrids.
Since the existence of the network hinged upon proving that the Shadow People truly existed, having two captive live Shadows to parade in front of officials would help their cause. In the end, he’d decided that having Dorri and his daughter with him was worth the risk and he’d confront whatever followed as it unfolded.
“Who knows what motivations the network has? I’m just grateful that they’re willing to help me rescue my wife from this miserable country. I don’t plan to question it.”
Ali’s mouth settled in a grim line and he didn’t say any more until they’d reached a nondescript warehouse midway between Karaj and Tehran. He turned off the street and drove through a set of rolling doors into the dark interior. The doors closed and several men emerged from dark recesses of the cavernous building to unload the lorry.
“Here we switch from the lorry to a motorcar, what the Americans call a ‘van’. The lorry will remain here. Also, we’ll need to change clothing.”
Edward and Ali abandoned the lorry and entered a prefabricated office. There, they found a small room with garments laid out in their sizes, dark slacks, a white shirt and jacket. They quickly stripped and dressed in the slightly used clothing, then emerged from the office and the warehouse into the bright fall sunlight. Ali led Edward to a black van.
“When we leave to drive back to the border,” Ali said, “we’ll be a family traveling to Azerbaijan to attend a wedding. Families travel often together in crowded conditions so it won’t be viewed as unusual.”
They entered the van and Ali drove through the back streets, winding deeper into the heart of Tehran. An hour later, he parked at a narrow side street behind Dorri’s apartment building. Edward began to sweat. The urge to simply leap from the vehicle and run to Dorri’s apartment seemed overwhelming. He had to stifle it and wait. Ali looked nervously at him.
“Are you alright, Esmaeel?”
Edward gritted his teeth and nodded. “I will be –when I see my wife.”
Ali moved the van further off the street to allow passage for other motorcars, and they exited, closed and locked the van’s doors. They entered the building and at Ali’s insistence, walked casually as if they belonged there. Each footstep dragged on Edward’s soul. It felt like the more he walked the further he needed to travel. The urge to simply run was almost irresistible. In what felt like an eternity, but was in reality only a few minutes, they arrived at the front door to the apartment.
Ali scanned the stairs and the landing and nodded. Edward removed his dark glasses and knocked softly on the door. They waited, but no one opened the door. Edward knocked a little louder. The sound echoed in the building, causing Ali to wince. Presently they heard the sound of the door opening, and Dorri’s scowling face and body framed the entrance.
“Haven’t you tormented us enough? Where is your decency?” she said with an angry expression.
Edward grinned through his new beard. “Is that a way to greet your husband, woman?”
Dorri studied him and then her fingers flew to her mouth. She collapsed at the threshold of the door, sinking to her knees and sobbing.
Chapter 15
Tehran – Fall 1980
Edward sat on the low divan, cradling his daughter’s body in his arms and staring at the wonder of her face, hands and feet. He’d already counted all her fingers and toes, kissing each one individually. However, he didn’t dare nuzzle her cheek fearing his beard would scratch her soft flesh. Although too early to tell, he thought her eyes held a hint of her mother’s flashing violet. He hoped so and also dreaded it. If she grew to be the beauty Dorri was, he’d kill any male that so much as looked at her. He looked through blurry eyes at Dorri and Shalizeh flanking him on the seat.
“She’s amazing! I‘ve never seen anything so beautiful –with the exception of her mother,” he added.
Dorri kissed him on the cheek and winced when the scratchy beard poked her face. “Don’t lie to me Edward. I know she’s going to be prettier than me. She is, after all, your daughter.”
He resisted the urge to lead Dorri to th
e back bedroom for an hour of privacy, knowing that the time was limited and the longer they delayed the more danger they faced.
“We don’t have much time, Dorri. We’ve come to rescue you, Shalizeh, Sanjar and your father also, if we can locate him.”
Dorri glanced worriedly at Shalizeh who jumped up and fled through the bedroom doorway with tears streaming down her cheeks. Once the door slammed shut, she turned to him.
“Sanjar's dead, Edward. The sons of whores accused him of being a traitor and killed him. Then the pig-eaters added to our agony by insisting that the family pay for the burial. My father’s imprisoned and he’s likely to be next. Behrouz is the head of the family now, and I fear him. I have no idea of what he may do, but I’m terrified he may try to take our baby. He’s promised her to one of the Houses to curry favor.”
Sudden rage swept over him. “No, Dorri, if your brother so much as tries, I’ll kill him.”
She looked at Edward with eyes that seemed to possess an infinite sadness and then she shook her head. “You’ll never see him and if he finds you here, I’ll lose another of life’s precious gifts. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. You need to flee. Don’t think you can win this battle, you can’t.”
She rose from the divan. “I must go to Shalizeh and comfort her. –Hold your daughter, Edward, God’s gift to us. Feel the warmth of her life. –The life that we created –and decide for yourself which is more important.” She followed Shalizeh into the next room.
Ali, sitting on a cushion, cleared his throat. “Your wife seems to be stubborn. We need to leave soon, Esmaeel, if we are to keep to the schedule. You need to convince your wife and sister-in-law to join us without delay. It appears as though the van will be less crowded. I can’t say I’m sorry about that, but I feel your sorrow. Sanjar must have been a friend.”
Unable to speak without choking up, he only nodded. He held his precious child close to his body while they waited for Dorri and Shalizeh to return.
Soon, both emerged from the bedroom, Shalizeh clutched a bundle to her chest and gave it to Edward.
