Stupid woman. What the hell are you smiling at? Untie my hands now. I have no idea how you got into my apartment. I was only asleep for fifteen minutes. What the fuck do you want from me?
Listen woman. I’m about to be given my refugee visa. I’m going to become a Dutch citizen. The Dutch police will be after you if you hurt me. What the hell do you want from me? How did you get in here? I know you. You’re that Iranian interpreter who came in with the counsellors one time. Are you one of the Islamic regime’s spies? Listen. I haven’t told these Westerners anything useful. They’ve been interrogating me about what I know about Iran’s nuclear weapons program. But, honestly, I don’t know anything about anything to do with nuclear weapons. So I’ve just been lying or repeating the things I’ve read on the internet so that they’ll give me my damn visa. That’s all. I’m not a traitor.
Listen. I used to be a guard at the Evin Prison. I haven’t told anyone that. But that’s true. I served the Islamic Republic for ten years, as a young paramilitary. Why are you smiling? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. How did you get in? Who the fuck are you? If you’re an agent of the Islamic Republic . . . how come you’re not wearing the veil? Aren’t you a Muslim? I am a Muslim. I love God. God knows I haven’t sold out my country to these venal Westerners. I just want a new life, the chance to live a normal honest life in a peaceful place. That’s not a sin. Why are you here?
I’ll yell. My neighbours will hear me. You know my neighbour Karina?! How the hell could you know that Russian whore? For God’s sake! Untie my hands. Just talk to me like a civilised person. OK? Now, let me go. You’ve got the wrong person. I’m not a danger to you or to anyone else. I’m just a poor asylum seeker. I have no one here. My wife and child are back in Iran. Why won’t you untie my hands?
What are you doing with the rope?
No, no. Let me explain everything to you, lady. What’s your name? Leila? OK, Leila. Listen to me. Just tell me why you’ve broken into my apartment. Why did you smash me over the head with the bedside lamp? To be honest, I hated that thing anyway. It was a gift from my devious neighbour, the Russian slut. OK, Ukrainian. The Ukrainian slut. It that better? Now, look here. Lady Leila. I just want to know who sent you here. Whoever sent you here is mistaken to be after me. I’m totally innocent. I’ve never harmed another person in my life. Why the hell are you laughing? What are you doing? Are you making that rope into a . . .
Please. I don’t know what you want. You’re an Iranian, aren’t you? Which part of Iran? I’m from Khoozastan. You have an accent. Are you a Baluchi? Listen, lovely Baluchi Leila. You’ve got the wrong man. I’ve never hurt one of your people. I know your people have been fighting for independence from us Persians for a long time. And I support your struggle. Honestly, untie my hands and I’ll tell you everything I know about where the Iranian regime keeps the Baluchi prisoners. Honest. For Imam Ali’s sake. Maybe you’re Kurdish? I support Kurdish separatists’ struggle too. Or maybe you’re an Azeri? I love the Azeri people. My wife is an Azeri. Please, stop making that . . . Stop making it.
What? It’s a . . . what? A ritualistic girdle? An ankh? What the hell is an ankh? It looks like a noose to me. How do I know what a noose looks like? Everyone knows what a noose looks like. The ancient Egyptian symbol of eternity?
What the hell are you talking about, lady? I don’t know anything about ancient Egypt and the pharaohs. I’m just a poor stateless Iranian refugee. Does this mean you were sent by the Egyptian government? But I’ve never said or done anything against the Egyptian government. Please believe me. Did they send you because of what I told Mossad? Please untie me. Look. I only agreed to speak to them because the Dutch said by helping the Israelis I would improve my chances of being granted asylum. That’s all. I didn’t mean any of the things I told the dirty Jews. Please believe me.
Are you an Arab? I love Arab people. We’re all Muslims. I care deeply about the plight of the Palestinians. You must believe me, Leila. I told the Israeli agents nothing useful. Just that the Iranian regime sends arms to Hezbollah in Lebanon, things they already knew. Actually, I lied to them. I lied to them because of my deep love for the Palestinians. I did it on purpose. To sabotage their intelligence. I hate the fucking Zionists. You must believe me. Please . . . please, Leila. Please put away that noose.
You’re not an Arab? You’re not a Muslim? What are you then? Why are you here? Are you a . . . oh God. This is what Western culture does. All this materialism and atheism turns people into selfish psychotic killers. But listen, Leila. That’s OK with me. I promise I won’t tell anyone. I’ll help you find other victims. Better victims. How about that Russian . . . sorry, Ukrainian harlot in the flat opposite mine? Kill her. No one gives a fuck about a dead prostitute. But if you kill me, the Dutch police will be after you. And the Israelis will be after you too. I’m one of their informants now. They won’t let you get away with this. They’ll track you down and kill you . . . you sick evil bitch. Let me go you bitch! I’ve done nothing wrong.
No. I won’t do it. You can’t make me. Shoot me. I don’t care. I won’t climb up the damn stool. I knew it was a noose you were making. But I won’t let you . . . oh God. Why?
OK. Are you happy now, lady Leila. Beautiful lady Leila. I like your necklace and the blue amulet. What is it? Lapis lazuli? A phoenix? It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. I did what you asked me to do. I’m on top of the stool now. You see, I’m very cooperative. I’m a cooperative hostage. Please, don’t put the noose around my neck. I’ll do anything you ask me. I’m not an idiot. I’m a useful, resourceful person. I’ll do anything you want me to do. I’ll rob a bank for you. I know how to climb up walls and break into high-security compounds and use machine guns. I was trained as a Basiji paramilitary in Iran. I can do whatever you want me to do. I’m in my forties but I’m still very fit. And obedient. And I promise I won’t tell the police anything if you let me go. If you just untie me and walk out of here, I promise, Leila, you won’t see or hear of me again. You won’t have to live with the guilt of killing a poor, lonely, innocent man. No, no. Please don’t laugh like that. Please don’t.
Did I hang anyone when I was a guard at the Evin Prison? What a question. I don’t . . . no. I wasn’t an executioner. I was just a guard. Are you a Mojaahedeen-e Khalgh? Oh God. Listen. I have nothing against your underground organisation. I never killed . . . I never hurt any of your group’s members. I know everyone in Iran hates your cadres, but I didn’t. I didn’t understand what you people wanted. How could you be Marxist and Islamic at the same time? But that’s none of my business. You can continue with your guerilla war against the Islamic Republic. I don’t care. I don’t want to have anything to do with it. I wish you and your comrades all the best. I was never a committed Basiji. I never believed in the regime’s propaganda. I was an uneducated country boy and I just wanted to earn a living. That’s all. Please. You can’t blame me for what the government did to your fighters. Please.
Please. It’s too tight. It makes it difficult for me to speak. Just loosen the noose a little. You want me to speak, don’t you? I know you want me to confess. OK. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you everything you want to hear.
I was assigned with the task of raping virgins before they were executed. You happy now? How many did I rape? I can’t . . . not many. Only one. Or two. Listen, lady. I did it because I was told if these criminal women died virgins they could go to Heaven and if they went to Heaven they could prevent us from going there. We were just doing what had to be done. It was what was done in all the prisons in Iran. The mullahs barred us from executing virgins. What were we to do? They picked me because . . . I’m too embarrassed to say it. Look. I can get excited very easily, OK. The older guards had noticed that I often got excited when we prayed. That’s why. And I was unmarried. They thought it’d be lustful for a married Muslim to rape. But not for an unmarried man.
I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you I found it easy to become erect. I was just a teenage boy, full of sexual energy. Of course I didn’t enjoy doing it. It was what I had to do for our government. For our Supreme Leader. Please, I beg you to remove the noose. I wish those stupid women hadn’t betrayed the Revolution and hadn’t been sentenced to death in the first place. I wish they were pious and patriotic. What else do you want me to say? OK. I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry. You want the exact number? I have no fucking idea . . . God, please just untie the fucking noose so that I can talk. It’s cutting into my neck.
Listen. After the War, after the damn Mojaahedeen-e Khalgh terrorists attacked, we were ordered by the Supreme Leader to exterminate all the prisoners. He was worried the guerillas would try to storm the prisons to release their comrades. The Leader issued a special fatwah. So we had to liquidate a lot of people in a very short space of time. And a lot of leftie woman were young university students, and virgins. It wasn’t my decision. It was theirs. The bitches could’ve fucked someone before getting caught. They could’ve broken their damn hymens with their fingers if they wanted to. But they didn’t. Stupid women.
You happy now, lady Leila? Your name isn’t Leila? What is it then? Listen I’ve told you everything. Please believe me. There’s nothing more to tell. And I’m really ashamed of what I did. I’m really, really contrite. I wish my village hadn’t been razed by Saddam and I wish I hadn’t been forced to leave for Tehran where I became a prison guard. I wish there had been no war and no damn prisons. I wish those women had never been caught. I really do. I wish I hadn’t been born. Or at least not born a man. I’m disgusting, lady Leila. I’m a vile, monstrous thing. I won’t be going to Heaven. I know I’m going straight to Hell. And those women will be waiting there for me. Those woman I sent to Hell. I made them hellish. I made them obscene. They’ll burn me in my own flames.
So please. Lady. Whatever your name is. Whoever you are. Why are you still smiling? What did you say this noose was called again . . . an ankh? It’s the pagan Egyptian symbol of life, you say. You say they used to place it on dead people’s mummies to help them be recognised by the gods and goddesses in the Afterlife? Please. I don’t want to be recognised when I’m dead. I just want to die and disappear into a dark corner of Hell. To suffer eternally, solitarily. You’re going to push me off now, aren’t you? I beg you. Please.