The heavyset man wandered into the café at three pm. He ordered a chai and sipped it leisurely as he looked out at the Grand Bazaar alley through the large windows.
The market was busy even though it was office hours. Women with bulging bags and baskets wandered past storefronts. A few with kids trailing behind them. Several men browsing through merchandise. The bazaar had patrons of all ages which was not surprising given that it was the only one of its kind in the whole country.
The customer ordered another chai and nibbled at a biscuit. ‘Is there a restroom here?’ he asked the server when she brought the drink.
‘Over there, at the back, agha,’ she pointed at a screen. ‘You have to go past that. You’ll see signs.’
‘Mam’noon,’ he thanked her.
‘No one will occupy your seat while you are gone,’ she assured him when he glanced at his table by the window.
The man rose and went past her. He took his time as he eased his girth between close-set tables and squeezed between other patrons.
The seating area was a large rectangle, polished wooden floors, checkered tablecloths, low lighting, music throbbing from speakers. It seemed to be popular with younger customers though there were more than a few older patrons.
There was an outdoor seating area separated from the main one by sliding glass doors. A wedding reception was being hosted there. Guests immaculately turned out, being served by liveried waiters.
This seems to be a fancy establishment. Nassour brought the twins here to impress them, probably. To show how much clout he has. Zeb, the man in disguise, nodded to a couple politely and looked casually to the left of the screen.
The restrooms were on either side of the hallway, one for men and the other for women. Nothing beyond that. No unisex bathrooms. To the right, down the hallway, was the emergency exit.
He lumbered to it, head down as if deep in thought. The exit doors had glass panels at the top through which he could see a parking lot and beyond, the street.
He looked at the function outdoors for a few moments. The bride was resplendent in a multi-colored gown and her laughing face momentarily transported him back to a different time and place.
When he had been younger, his bride had looked at him amazed when he had suggested they get married on the beach.
‘Here?’ she had exclaimed and then had laughed joyously when he swept her up in his arms.
Someone brushed past him, brought him back to Tehran, to the restaurant.
‘Everything okay, agha?’ the server asked him when he returned to his table.
‘Yes.’ A thought struck him. ‘I am meeting my friend here, Major Nassour. Has he made a reservation?’
‘Why, yes! He’s a regular here. That’s his table,’ she pointed to one.
‘That one?’ Zeb asked, not believing his luck.
‘Yes, agha.’ She nodded at the one in front of his. A larger one that could seat four and was next to the window.
‘Can you do me a favor? Please don’t tell him I am here.’ He smiled at her perplexed face. ‘He won’t recognize me. We were friends in school but since then, I have put on some weight,’ he chuckled in embarrassment.
‘I will keep your secret,’ she smiled. ‘Your chai must have gone cold. Let me bring a hot jug.’
Zeb eyed the distance between the tables. If he jammed his chair close to his and stretched out his leg, he would be able to brush against the back of the chair on Nassour’s reservation.
‘In place,’ he announced in his collar mic and waited for Habib Nassour.