by Gary Riner
***
Lina was dressing when Nava came into the room. “You didn’t fall did you Lina?” asked the little one.
“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Lina replied. Nava seemed satisfied with the reply. Later that night when they were lying in their beds Nava began to quietly snicker. The more the little one tried to retard the sound the more pronounced it became. “What have you done?” Lina asked.
The reply was drowned in laughter. “Nothing.”
Lina got up and sat on the bed beside Nava, “Tell me what is so funny to you?”
Nava had difficulty getting the reply out, “I used Neelan’s tooth brush to scrub our toilet bowl and put it back in her bathroom. She has probably used it by now.”
Lina covered her face as the two erupted in laughter together. “I hope you never get mad at me,” Lina said.
“Never,” Nava replied, as she wrapped her arms around Lina. “You aren’t mean like Neelan. I wasn’t really mad. I call it getting even. Neelan had it coming.”
***
Achmed arranged for a week of vacation with his supervisor. Round trip tickets were in hand, Imam Khomeini International, Tehran to Charles De Gaulle, Paris, by Qatar Airways, flight time about 5 hours. He packed his clothes with consideration of the reported Paris temperatures. His birth certificate, ancient passport, and the address of the Israeli Embassy in Paris, were tucked into the lining of his suitcase. All but the most severe examination would overlook them. His current passport was typically Iranian. Euros had been picked up at the bank. Extra food and water were left for his cat.
Achmed caught the bus to the airport sufficiently early for his flight. While watching the familiar scenery of Tehran pass by his bus window, he reconsidered the wisdom of Paris as opposed to Rome. Paris had a larger Muslim community as well as a smaller but substantial Jewish community. He had also gotten references about where to stay and eat while there. He had listened patiently as his source filled him in on the best bars and strip clubs. He had indicated that he was not interested, but the source insisted on relaying the information. A Muslim must know not to do such things. Airport check in was without incident, and Achmed was pressed back into his seat as the jetliner roared down the runway. It was a new sensation for him.
***
Mehran’s daughters lounged in Dasha’s room before classes as usual. “I wish our father would allow us the freedom to go out in public without the entire family or a body guard,” complained thirteen year old Fahmitah.
“We would probably just get into trouble. I know that Neelan would,” said Leila, one of the ten year old twins, as Neelan glared at her. Leila scooted back to a place of supposed safety beside Dasha as she continued. “But I can’t see why a bank president’s daughters would need a body guard.”
“It would be very embarrassing to Father if something happened to one of us. Can you imagine if one of us was picked up by the police at a political demonstration? Father would find it hard to explain the situation,” said Dasha.
“And his wrath and stick would be hard to bear,” Neelan added her smirking comment. “He has to keep us Muslim maidens pure for our husbands. We can die from boredom, but that does not matter. At least I would like some input into the choice of my husband.”
“As much trouble as you have given Father, he may have someone extra special for you,” said Lale, the other ten year old twin, as the other girls snickered.
Chapter 12 Christianity Again
Fahmitah asked Lina, “How could your parents have been so foolish as to become Christians?” The other girls turned to await Lina’s answer. Nava came in and curled up next to Lina.
“If you understand Christianity, it is quite attractive,” Lina said. “To know the Creator personally is very desirable.”
“How can one possibly know him?” asked one of the girls.
“When Yeshua came…”
Dasha interrupted, “We want to know about ‘knowing’ the One God, not one of his prophets.”
“Yeshua was the revealed presence of the One God. The Christian New Testament tells us that Yeshua created all things that exist. He said, ‘If you have seen me you have seen the father’”.
“You know that Christians corrupted the writings, and Mohammed set things straight,” replied Dasha.
“How do we know that the Christians corrupted the writings? A person that believed the New Testament to be correct, and becomes a follower of Yeshua as one of his disciples, would believe that Mohammed corrupted the truth about Allah.”
“You are speaking blasphemy against the prophet. You must be a Christian,” sneered Neelan.
“No. I was attempting to answer the question as to how my parents could have been so foolish as to become Christians. I have confessed my faith in Allah and his prophet. If you ask the question, you must be willing to hear the answer,” Lina replied ,attempting to sound as respectful and submissive as possible. She laid her hand on Nava’s head and began to stroke her hair.
“I believe you are still secretly a Christian. You will eventually be in trouble with father for your blasphemy. I want no part of hearing it anymore,” Neelan got up and stomped out of the room.
“The rest of us wanted to hear what you have to say. If you confess faith in Allah and his prophet, that settles it. Sisters don’t you agree?” stated Dasha. The others nodded in agreement.
Neelan crept silently into the room that Nava and Lina shared. Lina was sound asleep when Neelan’s hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Lina awoke to find Neelan glaring menacingly down at her, one hand on her mouth the other hand holding something cold to her throat. “I should slit your Christian throat, bitch,” Neelan whispered barely loud enough to be heard as she pressed the cold object just under Lina’s right jaw bone. Lina froze in terror. She knew that there was nothing that she could do to defend herself. The girl was much bigger and besides she could quickly inflict a fatal wound with the flick of her hand. “Lord help,” was instantly her silent prayer. Neelan pressed harder and started pulling the knife across Lina’s throat.
Lina lay on her bed for a long time trembling from residual adrenalin. The knife had turned out to be a dull butter knife. It had left a red mark from ear to ear but no cut. Neelan assured Lina, then departed as silently as she had arrived, that next time she would have a razor sharp blade. Neelan had also told her, “Keep your Christianity to yourself, or bleed like a stuck pig.”
Chapter 13 Paris
Achmed arrived in Paris after an uneventful flight. He had been able to take a short nap on the plane. He recovered his baggage and cleared customs with no difficulty. He called the hotel that was recommended to him. On the ride there, he was surprised at the sights outside the hotel van’s windows. Paris was very green, couples walked down the streets holding hands. That wouldn’t last long in Tehran. The morality police would arrest such violators. The clothing that the young ladies wore would also have been grounds for arrest in Iran. Some wore skin tight stretch pants. Others were just too…. Achmed thought for the word, “exposed” came to mind. It would be better just to keep his eyes elsewhere. He picked up a newspaper that another passenger had left behind, it was no help. It was in French and the ads were as bad as looking out the window. He finally leaned back in the seat with his eyes closed.
The hotel had a small indoor pool near the lobby. There was a large window separating the lobby from the pool area. One glance had been enough for him. He was shocked that some of the near naked women were olive skinned and apparently Middle Eastern. Achmed leaned on the check in counter with his back to the window. The middle aged lady behind the counter asked in fluent Farsi, “Your first time outside of a Muslim country?”
“Yes,” Achmed replied, “Is it so obvious?”
She nodded affirmatively, “I can see that you are a good man. You can’t help what you see while you are here. You have made the best choice, not to let your eyes dwell on what you do not need to see. It is best to keep
yourself pure until you are able to leave this place,” she replied.
“I’m not sure how to survive while I am here. What will I do? I won’t be able to watch TV or go out in public without reason. There is so much I don’t want to see.”
“There are some wonderful Mosques to visit here in Paris and I have many suitable books for you to read in your leisure.” She offered. Achmed selected a book to read and went to his room. He immediately called the Israeli Embassy and made an appointment to check on the passport that he needed.
Achmed’s appointment at the Israeli Embassy went better than he had expected. The clerk that he met with seemed suspicious and questioned him at length, but completed the necessary paperwork for a new Israeli passport. He paid for priority processing which would speed up the process considerably, but there was still no hope of getting the passport during his stay. He could call the Embassy and check on the progress from Tehran. He had arranged for the passport to be held for him at the Embassy. There was no way to have it mailed safely to Iran. He could pick it up in Paris and then board El Al for Tel Aviv. His mother would be in for a shock when the Israeli officials called her to inquire about the son that she had not seen in 22 years. He decided against calling her again. She would learn of his intentions soon enough. He realized that the visit might have a shock or two for him as well.
Chapter 14 Abducted
Mehran always knew what was going on in his household. No one would be surprised at this if they knew his real occupation. He was going to have to do something about Neelan. She was headstrong, ill tempered, and did not appreciate her station in life. He decided to solve this once and for all. Nava was dear to his heart and for that reason so was Lina. When Neelan threatened Lina, the end of his patience had been reached.
Mehran’s men entered Neelan’s bedroom just after midnight. They were careful that she not hear or see them. A blindfold went on as well as duct tape over her mouth. She was swiftly hogtied and placed inside of some sort of rough sack cloth bag. She was certain that she was being kidnapped. In a way she was. They carried her out of the house and swung her up into the truck bed of a pickup. The landing had been far from gentle. The tailgate closed and then the truck doors opened and closed. She was unable to do anything except make groaning sounds into the tape. The truck traveled on and on. Finally the truck left the paved road. The bumps rattled her. She would go airborne on the top of one bump and land hard as the truck rose from the next bump. She was beginning to feel the warmth of the sun when the truck stopped. The tailgate dropped and she was unceremoniously dragged out onto the rocky ground. Her kidnappers got back into the truck and promptly drove away. Anger beyond measure brought tears to her eyes. She was cramping from the tight binding and felt as if she had been beaten all over. After several hours, she began to worry if anyone was going to come. It was stifling hot inside the bag, and silence surrounded her. After several hours, the sound of a small bell could be heard, soon followed by the distant bleating of sheep or goats. She would find out who did this after she was rescued and get even with them. Eventually, the small herd got to her and began to nudge her and nibble at the corners of the cloth bag. She couldn’t even kick at them to make them leave her alone.
Achmed could not take a full week in Paris. He visited several Mosques during prayer times and listened to the Imam’s sermons and read several books. He finally gave up and took a flight back to Tehran four days early. Two plain clothes policemen met him after he cleared customs. “You will come with us,” said the taller of the men.
“Why do I have to go with you? I haven’t done anything wrong,” replied Achmed with obvious surprise.
“You are not accused of wrongdoing but you will come with us for questioning.” They took him by car to the building where he worked, and escorted him to a questioning room in a part of the building that he had never had the occasion to visit. It was plain gray with a table and two chairs. Behind the mirrored glass on the wall, there was obviously an observation room. He waited about an hour before someone came to the room.
He recognized the man by appearance, but did not know his name. The man began to question him. “Why did you go to Paris?” Achmed considered lying to keep his nationality of origin from becoming known. There was no point. They would find out anything that they wanted to know, and they probably knew most already. He decided the best option was to tell the exact truth. The man questioned him about every detail since he found the birth certificate. Every moment of his time in Paris was questioned. The interrogator repeatedly went over the facts in detail, and would occasionally insert or omit something to see if Achmed could keep his story straight. The decision to tell the truth had been a good one. The man would have confused him about what had really happened, and a lie would have fallen through. The man was finally satisfied and knocked on the door. He left and another man took Achmed’s file and came back in followed by a technician with a polygraph machine. The questioning process began again. Achmed felt worn out by the time that this man was satisfied. He knocked on the door and handed Achmed’s file to another person.
“How long can this go on?” he thought. The third man turned out to be Mehran. “What are you doing here Mehran?” he asked, the shock showing plainly on his face.
“Very few people know that I am the director here.”
“I thought you were into banking?”
“That is what we allow most people to think,” Mehran replied and then continued, “So you are Jewish?”
“It would appear so.” The color drained from Achmed’s face. This could be the end of his employment and the only way of life that he had ever known. “How much do you know?”
“We know everything down to the title of the books that you borrowed from the lady at the hotel.” The agency had apparently had him followed. He had failed to notice that. They knew it all before they began questioning him.
“So what happens now?”
“That depends upon how your loyalties lie after what you have learned. Would you be interested in living in Israel for a while and doing some intelligence work against our enemy?”
***
Neelan felt a really stiff jab in the ribs. She groaned from the impact. “Allah be praised, what have I found?” Someone loosened the bag closure. Neelan was bright red from the stifling heat. As the blindfold was removed she looked up into the face of an ancient looking goat herder. He was dark and wrinkled as if he had spent the last 60 years in the desert. Curious goats were nosing around her. The grizzled Shepherd carefully grasped the edge of the duct tape and then quickly ripped it off.
The tape had been secured very well. Neelan screamed and uttered a few choice curse words. “Untie me and get those stinking goats away from me,” Neelan demanded. The Shepherd was obviously taken aback by the demand. He had reared each goat from many previous generations. They were all like family to him. Neelan saw the hesitancy in the old man and renewed her demand. “Untie me now. Do you know who I am?”
The old man studied her carefully, watching her temper rise by the moment. “You look like a woman bound and tied in a bag. I was prepared to untie you, but after hearing your mouth I am deciding against it. Allah may have had someone place you into the bag for a good reason. Who am I to interfere with Allah’s ways?” Neelan began to curse the old man who got up stiffly and walked away with the sound of her curses following him. He walked for some distance, stopped, and then returned in his own slow pace.
“That’s better. Untie me.” She again demanded.
“I have changed my mind about one thing,” he said as he picked up the tape. It wasn‘t easy to hold her head and reapply the tape but he finally managed the feat. A knee on the side of her head held her stationary just long enough. He stepped over the girl, who now uttered only muffled curses and kicked her in the behind with his sandaled foot. “Perhaps a while longer in the heat may change your attitude,” he muttered as he walked away. “You are a servant of Satan no doubt. I might come back th
is way tonight or tomorrow, or I might not,” he called over his shoulder.
“At least he didn’t put the blindfold back on,” Neelan thought as she watched the man and his goats slowly disappear over a rise. She ached all over. “Perhaps I should try a milder approach next time,” she thought as a spark of understanding illuminated her mind. It would be some time before the true light came on if it ever really did.
Chapter 15 To Israel
Achmed considered Mehran’s offer to be an intelligence agent in Israel. There wasn’t much choice at this point. The Zionists were still the enemy. To work for their destruction was a high calling within Islam. The sooner they were driven into the sea, the sooner Messiah would come. But spies might get life in prison if caught. He was either deeply committed or his loyalty was in question. “I will be happy to serve Islam and my country in any way possible.”
“Good. You can be the ‘Tip of the Spear’. Remember that phrase. We can have someone pick up your passport in Paris. I don’t blame you for not liking that place. There will not be any hurry. It will take a while to train you as a field agent and to develop the appropriate position. Your training as an analyst will make the transition easier.”
“Would it be possible for me to take a brief trip to Israel before I actually start work there? It would give me a chance to see if I can make any family contacts and get a feel for what the country is like. I imagine that it will take some getting used to.” Mehran considered the idea. Achmed having family in Israel would make better cover for him as an agent, but there was the potential of damaging his effectiveness. Could he take actions that might have the potential of harming the Jewish side of his family? There was no easy way around it. He would have to be watched closely.
“Yes.” Mehran told him. “It would probably be a good idea.”
