The Revolutionary’s Cousin

1. In The Dead Of The Night

1

In The Dead Of The Night

And now her cousin Firzun, the ‘stupid Afghan kid’, had gone forever. Apart from her son Ahmad, he’d been her sole family here in Iran. There would be no escape together to Australia as Firzun had planned. No more lies as he’d used her dead husband’s identity and made her pretend to be his wife. She was truly free—and alone.

She finished her work and joined her son and the other servants in the kitchen for the evening meal. As she ate, she only half-listened to the talk around the table.

‘Remember, Karim Agha is leaving tomorrow to close up the family’s beach house on the Caspian Sea—such a shame,’ Tahmineh, the housekeeper, remarked. ‘He’s taken a lot of responsibility, finalising everything for his parents—such a good son!’

At some point, Zahra thought, Karim will have to tell the housekeepers about our unofficial engagement. Everyone who knew the Konari family would be shocked and his mother would be furious, Zahra was sure of that. The wealthy son of a prominent family marrying one of his mother’s employees! I’m a well-educated woman, Zahra reminded herself, even though I haven’t got any money. Karim and I love each other. He’s vowed to marry me as soon as he can in America and I trust him.

After she’d wished everyone goodnight, she put Ahmad to bed in the elegant guest room Karim had insisted they occupy after his mother left. Zahra read a few chapters of her book, then got ready for bed herself.

She’d finally fallen asleep, but the car bomb that had killed her cousin and the terrible aftermath she’d witnessed haunted her dreams. Often in her nightmares, she was running away from her former husband, then from the bomb blast. Sometimes she saw her husband lying dead in a bomb crater and she woke up calling for help. In her dreams, her dead cousin was limping toward her, leaning on his cane. She could hear it tap-tapping on the ground.

Zahra woke abruptly and sat up in bed, her heart racing. She forced herself to breathe slowly and looked across at the other bed. Ahmad was sleeping soundly, his dark hair framing his calm face. She remembered now that she was in the Konaris’ house. She was safe.

She leaned back against the pillows, the scenes of the last two months replaying in her head.

On the eve of the failed raid at the American Embassy three weeks ago, Karim had begged her to leave Firzun and go with him to America. She’d refused, letting him think that Firzun was her husband, but now Firzun’s death had changed everything. We’re free at last, me and Ahmad, she thought as she closed her eyes.

A sudden noise jolted her senses. The sound from her dream—the sound that had woken her—a faint tapping like Firzun’s cane, was in the house. She sat up again, fear squeezing her heart, her ears straining for the faintest sound.

There it was again—tap, tap, tap. Someone was knocking on the door of the empty bedroom next to hers. She switched on the bedside lamp and the sound stopped abruptly. She slipped out of bed and pulled on her robe. Were there intruders in the house? A chill flowed through her body. Was it the Revolutionary Guard, the paramilitaries who’d ransacked her friend’s house further along the street? Would they burst in and arrest her, then drag Karim down the stairs and throw them both in prison? Catatonic with fear, she was torn between protecting her son and getting to Karim. She’d heard him come in before she’d fallen asleep. But the only way to his apartment on the next floor was across the landing. And someone—something—was out there. Firzun’s spirit back from the dead? She tried to shake off the thought.

The plush carpet deadened her footsteps as she walked nervously across the room. She heard the knock again, but this time it was on her bedroom door.

‘Zahra, are you there?’ a voice said softly.

‘Khoda! Oh my God!’ She could hardly breathe. It was his voice—her dead cousin’s—calling to her from the grave! ‘Go away!’ she croaked, not sure if she was asleep or awake.

She stepped back, hands over her mouth as the door handle turned slowly and quietly. When the door swung open she gasped, transfixed with terror. Fear, like a slow freezing trickle of water, ran down her skin. A figure stood in the doorway, backlit by the soft light that burned all night on the landing. Firzun! The white shalwaar kameez he was wearing on the day he was killed glowed in the dim light. His dark hair was massed round his face like a shadowy halo.

‘Waiee!’ she gasped. He caught her before she collapsed on the floor. She felt him walking her along the landing, then through the passageway to her old room above the kitchen. When she woke fully, she was sitting on a bed. Firzun stood quietly watching her. In the dim light, his features looked soft and indistinct. She struggled to stand up, to escape from the nightmare.

‘Go away—go away!’ she gasped.

‘Zahra, it’s me, Firzun. I’m alive,’ he whispered.

She shook her head. It’s a dream. I’ve got to wake up!

‘I’m not a ghost, I survived. Touch my arm.’ He held it out to her.

‘No!’

He grabbed her arms and shook her. ‘You’re not dreaming. I hid in a cellar. I’m alive,’ he repeated.

She was awake! She grasped his forearms. When she clenched her fingers around them she burst into tears. He sat her down on the edge of the mattress, then fetched a towel from the bathroom. She snatched it with trembling hands, covered her face, and sobbed into it. When the storm had passed, she jumped to her feet and beat his chest angrily with her fists.

‘Ashraf said you were DEAD!’ Her voice broke as he caught her wrists. ‘He found your cane. He even said he’d seen your leg … How?’

Firzun took a deep breath. ‘It was a mistake! Listen, Zahra, I was getting our tickets for Australia at the travel agency, remember? They got a phone call—a warning. I told Ashraf to get you away. I thought I could stop the car bomb. I ran up there and dropped my cane. I made it back to the cellar just in time …’

Zahra sat down again. ‘They brought injured people into the mosque courtyard. I saw them collecting …’

‘Body parts, I know,’ he said quietly. ‘Ashraf came looking for me. He found the bits of my cane.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve been laying low. If the authorities find out I wasn’t killed, they’ll be after me.’

Zahra’s fear turned to fury. She’d gone to her cousin’s funeral, buried him as her ‘husband’, said prayers for his soul in the mosque. And all the time he’d been alive!

‘Get out,’ she hissed. ‘Ahmad and I are going to America with Karim. I’ve made a promise to him. He thought you were my husband and with you dead I was a widow and free!’

‘He didn’t waste much time, did he?’ Firzun retorted. ‘Well, I’m alive, Zahra, and we’re sticking to the plan. Your husband, Mahmoud, is dead, remember? He was an ugly violent animal, he deserved what he got. I’ve got his passport and we’re leaving for Sydney. I fixed up refugee visas for us months ago, remember? We’ll live in a migrant hostel …’

‘No!’ she cut in. ‘I’m not going with you!’

‘Listen to me, Zahra.’ He pushed his face close to hers. ‘I need Mahmoud’s identity to get out of Iran. And you and Ahmad are coming with me, understand?’

She steeled herself. ‘I won’t do it Firzun.’

His eyes glittered in the dull light, making him look malevolently alive. ‘Okay, Zahra, if you don’t come with me, I’ll turn Karim over to the Revolutionary Guard. They don’t like rich people or traitors, and in their eyes he’s both.’

‘You’re contemptible …’ She reached out to hit him, but he caught her hand. ‘He’s innocent,’ she spat. ‘You’re the guilty one. You organised that suicidal mission to free the hostages at the American embassy. People died because of you. You dragged Karim into it. You’re lucky to be alive and now you’re on the run again!’ Her voice broke into a sob.

He recoiled from her torrent of words and looked away. She knew she’d hit her mark. He was the commander who’d led his troops to their death. He said nothing. She wasn’t fooled, he was a charlatan and she knew he’d try to manipulate her. This time she’d be strong and refuse him.

‘I know, may God forgive me,’ he answered soberly. ‘Zahra, if I’m caught I’ll be executed.’

The words hung in the air between them.

‘You’d turn Karim in to be executed though, wouldn’t you?’ she whispered.

His shoulders sagged and his head drooped. ‘If you want to stay with him, that’s your choice. But remember how I saved you in the mountains on the way here from Afghanistan?’

He’d played his last card, or so she thought. Yes, he’d saved her from her violent husband. At first, he’d told her it was an accident, then an honour killing. No one treated a member of Firzun’s family like that!

In turn he made her promise to protect him from his enemies in Iran and kept his secrets. But she’d suspected that he had another agenda. He knew he might need to escape from Iran, and masquerading as her husband meant he’d be able to do just that.

And now he was asking her to make another, greater sacrifice. He wanted her to give up Karim and a new life in America. When she didn’t answer, her cousin leaned forward.

‘I’ve got Mahmoud’s passport. It’ll be easy,’ he urged. ‘The authorities won’t recognise me.’

She hesitated, then shook her head. ‘No, Firzun.’

‘Zahra, you owe me your life, remember?’

‘It’s too dangerous.’

‘Since when has danger ever worried me?’

‘It worries me.’

She grabbed his arm. He was asking too much, she told him. He could get out quicker on his own. He could go south and then cross the mountains into Turkey. He had a passport and friends; why did he need her?

‘I won’t do it,’ she repeated.

He narrowed his eyes and put his face close to hers, enunciating each word. He would take Ahmad with him instead. She could please herself. Ahmad wouldn’t understand ‘dead’; he’d think Firzun had gone away and come back.

‘He’s my son. You can’t!’ she countered. ‘They’ll ask about his mother at the airport.’

‘No, they won’t,’ he sneered. ‘Fathers have more rights than mothers in Iran these days.’

She jumped up and ran toward the door, ready to rush back to her room and save her son. Firzun got there before her and leaned on it, facing her.

‘You wouldn’t be able to stop me, even if you came to the airport screaming and pleading to get him back.’

‘I could tell the Revolutionary Guard who you really are.’

She tried to push him aside but he grabbed her wrists.

‘How? What proof do you have that I’m not your husband?’ he asked with a laugh.

‘Karim knows who you are,’ she said desperately. ‘He could identify you.’

Firzun laughed again. ‘Your Persian boyfriend! Do you really think he’ll marry you? When he gets what he wants, he’ll dump you before he goes, or even when you get to the States. Then what will you do?’

‘He loves me! He’s an honourable man,’ she insisted, twisting out of his grasp.

Firzun went on: had she told Karim the truth yet? That they’d buried her first husband in the mountains? That she’d lied when she’d told Karim he had died of a heart attack in Afghanistan? How would Karim feel if he knew that everyone, even his best friends, had lied to him? Firzun warned her not to call out and wake ‘her lover’ or try to get him to help her. This was between them. Either she came with him, or he’d take her son right now. Ahmad was his second cousin—his blood too, he reminded her.

She wanted to spit in his face. She hated him; she was sorry he hadn’t been killed, God forgive her. He had the upper hand and he knew it. He had Mahmoud’s passport, which proved he was the boy’s father, and under shari'a law he had every right to take her son.

Once again, her cousin was living on his wits. Using every blackmail tool he could. Yes, she owed him her life, but if she went with him she knew she would lose her chance of happiness with another man forever. How could she ever repay Karim for her treachery, for breaking all the promises she’d made about their future together? But maybe there was a solution that meant she could still be near him.

‘Let’s go back to Afghanistan instead.’

‘For God’s sake, you know we can’t! I’m a wanted man there too.’ Firzun opened the door slightly and turned to her. ‘The flight to Sydney leaves late Monday afternoon. Be ready. What’s Karim up to?’

‘Family business. He’s leaving early tomorrow and will be back on Tuesday night.’

Firzun took her face in his hands and told her to say nothing—nothing. Let Karim Konari think everything was fine. This was life and death for him; he was her cousin—her blood—had she forgotten? There were spies everywhere, he had to get out fast.

‘Are you with me, cousin?’

She nodded reluctantly. What choice have I got?

‘God protect you, Zahra. I knew you wouldn’t desert me.’

‘You threatened to take my son, Firzun. You left me no choice.’

‘I’m desperate, cousin. Now listen carefully.’

His instructions went on and on. Tell the housekeepers she was going home to Afghanistan. She was using money her husband had left her. Take a taxi to the airport and don’t let the housekeeper’s husband take her and Ahmad. He’d meet her just inside the door of the Tehran International Terminal. The plane left at three.

‘Get there by noon.’

‘But what if you’re not there?’ she asked.

He tutted irritably. ‘I will be. I’ll be dressed like a cleric. Keep an eye out. I’ll use my cane as a prop and get sympathy for being an injured holy man.’

She braced herself for more. She would be questioned and searched in the women’s area. Make sure Ahmad called him Baba.

‘I’m a Haji, remember? I’ll look holy and religious.’ He laughed.

She glared at him, resenting his sudden change to an ebullient mood. ‘You’ve got no right to get respect for going on the Hajj to Mecca,’ she snapped. ‘You’ve never been!’

‘Hey! If I shave the beard off, I won’t look like the photo in Mahmoud’s passport, will I?’

‘But you’re limping. Won’t they be looking out for an injured man?’

‘I’m dead and buried.’ He shrugged, irritating her even more. ‘I’ve covered my tracks well.’

She changed the subject and pointed to his travel bag. Would he be glad she’d kept it? Probably not. He picked up the Mickey Mouse backpack next to it.

‘That’s a surprise gift for Ahmad from Karim.’ She moved forward to take it from her cousin.

‘It’s a surprise gift from me now,’ he told her as he shoved it into his own bag. ‘Ahmad can have it if he remembers to call me daddy.’

God forgive me, I hate you sometimes.

He ordered her to get him some food from the kitchen, then he’d be gone. He fixed her with his black eyes and told her to shut her mouth from now on.

‘I’m your husband Mahmoud, in Iran and when we get to Australia. If the authorities know that Firzun Khan is alive, they’ll arrest me and then you for harbouring me!’

His words had the desired effect; she felt terrified as she cautiously opened the door. He followed her down the back stairs to the kitchen. After she’d parcelled up some food from the fridge, she asked him how he’d got in the house. He dangled a key in front of her, said he’d found it under a stone.

‘The housekeeper’s husband doesn’t know she hides it.’ He shook his head and tutted. ‘Women and secrets! Yours was a big one—leaving for America with your employer’s rich son.’

‘That’s none of your business, Firzun,’ she said sharply.

‘Don’t think you can marry your Persian boyfriend tomorrow and dump me, Zahra,’ he said. ‘New regime—shari’a law. Widows can’t remarry for over four months.’

Furious with him, she dragged the door open, resisting the urge to push him out. He grinned ghoulishly at her through the glass as she shut the door in his face and tested the lock. The faint moonlight caught a glint of the silver key as he shoved it under a large stone. He raised his hand in a peremptory wave as he sauntered off down the shadowy path toward the cover of the trees.

After he’d gone, she ran silently up the stairs and stood in her bedroom, her thoughts swirling in dizzying eddies through her brain. She couldn’t do this to Karim, could she? She covered her face with her hands. He’d been her rock after the bomb blast and supported her at the terrible funeral for the victims. The funeral that she had believed included her cousin. Karim had arranged everything for a smooth trip to America for her and her son. He’d held her close and told her about the wonderful life they would have in New York.

There would be no departure for America now, but if she defied Firzun and confided in Karim, he might turn her cousin in. That was something she just couldn’t risk.