POLICE STATION, MARZANABAD, IRAN—11:40 / 11:40 A.M. IRST
Lieutenant Asadi sat opposite Nicole. This was his fourth shot at interrogating her. His face, however, looked a little different this time. Despite the temperature in the room, which had not warmed with the progression of daylight hours, the officer had beads of sweat on his brow. An open file folder rested on his crossed legs, and he was riffling through a series of papers. He seemed aggravated, missing the calm superiority of his previous interrogation sessions.
This is not a good change, she thought. He looks like he just got ripped apart by someone—probably the nameless man in the suit. Hold strong no matter what. Maybe the Mossad will come for you.
But her belief in an impending rescue was growing less and less. In between the questionings—when it was just her, the cold, and her thoughts—she wondered. After all, she was just a goy analyst in the Israeli Mossad. How far would they really go to save her? She’d even begun doubting Nir’s loyalty. Would he really risk his career, his freedom, even his life for her?
Besides, she’d assaulted a police officer. Even if they wanted to help her, what could they do?
She realized her childhood of neglect and mother’s abandonment of her and her twin brother were likely feeding the flames of doubt. But the fact remained that she was hours into this ordeal and had heard absolutely nothing about anyone trying to at least negotiate her release.
Asadi abruptly tapped the papers on the folder to align their edges, then laid them down and closed the file. “Why are you here in Iran, Nicole?”
Exasperated, she said, “How many times are you—”
“Answer the question.” He lifted the folder and waved it at her. “I have a file filled with evidence that everything you have said to me is an absolute lie. So I am going to ask you my questions one more time. And if you give me the same lies, then we will move to the next stage of our interrogation.”
Nicole was pretty sure he was bluffing about the evidence in the file folder, but the “next stage” reference certainly caught her attention.
“Now, why were you in Tehran?”
“I don’t know what else to tell you, except what I’ve already said two dozen times now.” Her very real anger and frustration were evident in her tone. “I arrived in Tehran two days ago, then flew a charter plane to Noshahr Airport. But because the flight had a mechanical delay, the light had gone by the time I arrived at Namakabrud Beach. We rescheduled for today, which left me with nothing to do. So I decided to return to Tehran and see some of its sights.”
“What did you do in the capital city?” he asked with an aggravated sigh.
“Like I’ve said, I did tourist things. I visited Golestan Palace. I went to the Milad Tower. I shopped the Grand Bazaar. Isn’t that what people do there?”
That’s what preparation gets you, Nicole thought as she silently thanked the Azeris who had delivered to her last night’s receipts from the palace and the tower and a bag full of souvenirs from the bazaar.
“And where did you stay last night?”
“As I’m sure your people have discovered, I was at the Parsian Azadi Hotel. Fourth floor. You’ll have to forgive me for not remembering the exact room number.” She did know the exact room number. She’d checked herself into it from the van by the warehouse. But it was those little details that made stories believable.
Asadi flipped through the papers. “Room 422.”
“If you say so.” Nicole knew very well that it was 418 and that he was trying to catch her in a lie.
Closing the file again, Asadi said, “What is interesting to me and what makes your story so implausible is that nobody remembers seeing you there. No one from the doors remembers seeing you walk in. No one at the front desk remembers checking you in. It is like you were a ghost.”
Nicole lifted her eyebrows and gave him a What do you want me to say? look.
“Don’t you find that odd?” he went on. “You must admit, you are fairly memorable, especially in a country where the modesty and devotion of so many of the women compels them to remain covered.”
This was the one part of her tradecraft plan she’d been concerned about. Yes, she could check herself in from the van, make a room key, and have a local enter the room and make it appear that she’d slept there. But there’d been no way to get her face into that hotel.
“How can I be responsible for other people’s lack of awareness?”
“Stop lying to me,” he yelled, flinging the file at her. Its edge hit the bridge of her nose, but the folder had flown open, so the contact wasn’t painful.
“I want to talk to my embassy,” she said, making a demand of her own.
“Which one?”
“What do you mean? The one in Tehran.”
A knowing smile spread across Asadi’s face as he sat back in his chair. “No, I mean which one, the South African or the Israeli?”
Nicole masked her shock with laughter, praying that her sudden fear didn’t show through. “The South African, of course. Why would I… Wait a second. You think I’m some Israeli spy?” Now she really started laughing, doing her best to play the part.
The mocking tone seemed to get to Asadi. “It is not a laughing matter, Miss le Roux. We have evidence—”
“That I’m an Israeli secret agent? I’m like a female Austin Powers but with a yarmulke? Nicole le Roux, woman of mystery. Supermodel by day, superspy by night.”
“Stop laughing.”
“Is that what this is all about? You’ve held me here for however many hours because you think I’m some undercover model spy? No wonder you’ve kept me chained. You’re afraid I’ll use my secret martial arts training against you.”
“I said stop laughing.” Asadi leaned forward and slapped her across the face.
Nicole froze. “I want to talk to the South African embassy.”
Asadi had resumed his position in his chair, but she saw the rage on his face.
“What you fail to realize,” he said, “is this. First, you are a long way from your embassy. And second, nobody knows you are here. That gives us options as we decide what to do with you.”
It felt like a black hole had formed below her chair and she was about to tip into it. “But I’m a South African citizen. I have a right to speak to my embassy.”
Now the superiority was back in Asadi’s voice, mixed with a little vengeance. “Oh my pretty little girl, have you still not realized? You have no rights here. Being white and beautiful may buy you the world in other places, but it gains you nothing here in the mountains of Iran. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Think about it. If we send you to prison, what once may have been your greatest assets will quickly become your greatest liabilities.”
Nicole was angry with her weakness as tears ran down her cheeks.
Asadi smiled paternally, removed a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbed her face. “Please don’t worry too much. It may not come to that. We may decide to simply make you disappear.” The lieutenant sat back and watched in silence as more tears formed in Nicole’s eyes and traveled south.
Finally, he said, “If I ask you more questions, will you give me the same lies?”
“They aren’t lies,” she answered softly.
He watched her a few more moments, then stood. “Then I guess it is on to stage two of our interrogation. I’m afraid this part is not my specialty, so I must step out and invite in one of my colleagues. Goodbye, Nicole. I hope I will have the opportunity to speak to you again sometime soon.”
As Asadi walked out the door, Nicole found her breathing once again speeding up. Slow down. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Gradually, she gained control, but that did nothing to calm her fear.
Then the door opened, and her breathing stopped completely. Officer Kazemi walked in. His eyes were completely black now, and his nose was still packed with gauze. He spoke to himself as he circled behind her. Although she couldn’t understand the words, his tone was enough to tell her all she needed to know about his intentions.
“God, if you are really there, please help me!”
Now Kazemi stood in front of her, staring down with hatred. With remarkable speed, his arm swung and connected with her abdomen. All the air expelled from her lungs as she doubled over, and then she retched as she gasped for air. The pain was like nothing she’d ever felt. Another blow landed, this one to the side of her head. Her vision grayed, and she continued trying to draw oxygen into her lungs.
A hand grabbed her hair and lifted her head. Kazemi’s fist was poised to strike. But then the door flew open and slammed against the wall.
“Baseh digeh!”
Kazemi released Nicole’s hair, and her chin dropped to her chest.
“Baseh digeh!” the voice repeated. “Enough!”
A harsh rasp accompanied every hard suck of air Nicole took. Digging deep, she found the strength to lift her head. Standing in the doorway was the man in the suit. He held a paper in one hand as he spoke rapidly to Kazemi, who quickly backed away from her.
The suit man looked back through the doorway and snapped his fingers, waving someone in. A fully veiled woman hustled inside carrying a large bowl in one hand and a white cloth in the other. Before Nicole could determine her intentions, her vision once again grayed, then went black.