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.I drew my legs in under me, trying to make the movement seem natural.The agent was wearing the same black leather jacket and jeans as the day before.His eyebrows were still arched in suspicion, but his eyes had softened a little.Sitting next to him was a middle-aged man I didn’t recognize.“Tell us which one of the Americans we asked you about wanted you to spy for them,” Javan said softly.My insides churned.I wished I could simply invent an imaginary person to accuse, but I knew my interrogators would never buy that.“It’s OK,” he cooed.“Take your time.”Several seconds passed.I had no idea what lie to make up.“Just tell us,” he began again, “which one of them told you to use your book as a cover to gather information on Iran for the U.S.government?”I stared dumbly at my hands, which were lying lifelessly in my lap.“We already discussed the Americans you know,” the other man said.Javan ran through their names, while my eyes remained glued to my hands.“Don’t worry,” he added.“Whatever you say will remain just between us.”I closed my eyes and stayed silent, frozen with fear.I knew I shouldn’t trust these people, but I felt I had no other choice.My life belonged to them.The faces of the individuals Javan had listed appeared before me, blankly staring straight ahead, unaware that I was being forced to arbitrarily pick one of them: Mr.A, Mr.B, Mrs.C, Mr.D…Mr.D was an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in years.He had no family in Iran, and I highly doubted he would ever come here.He had also been kind and helpful to me in the past.Surely he would want me to do what was necessary to stay alive.I’m sorry, Mr.D! I have to pick you as my scapegoat.Please forgive me.You are safe in America, while I am in danger in Iran.Please understand that I have to fabricate a story about you to save my life….“It was…” I said, my voice cracking, “Mr.D.”“Who?” my bâzju asked.“Mr.D,” I repeated, as I raised my eyes tentatively.A sly grin stretched across his face.“So Mr.D wanted you to use your book as a cover to gather information about Iran,” he stated.“And he wanted you to interview various people to get this information.”“Uh…” my life now depended on playing along, “yes.”“So he told you to give him copies of interviews that you were doing for your book.”A chill ran through me.To lie and affirm this might demand further falsehoods, perhaps involving other innocent people.I wanted to stand firm for what I knew was right.But fear overpowered my principles.“Ye-yes,” I said, “he wanted…transcripts of some of them.”“Did he give you a secret code to e-mail him if you would ever be in trouble, if your cover would be blown, like now?”I guessed that spies were supposed to have secret codes.“Yes.”“What was it?”I didn’t know what to say.“Um, sorry,” I began.“Actually…there was no code.”“Why did you just say there was?” Javan asked, a frown creasing his brow.“I…I was nervous,” I stuttered.“You all…scare me.”He tried to reassure me with a faint smile.“Don’t be scared,” he purred.“It’s been a long day, and you must be tired.Why don’t you go back to your room for the night, and we can continue tomorrow?”“Yes, please,” I said shakily.“Just think about these questions: How much money did Mr.D give you for your work? What information did he request? What types of people did he want you to interview? What information did you give him—when, where, and how?”My head spun as I began to realize how many hideous lies I would now be forced to tell.But I had to concentrate.I had to memorize these questions because I would have to think up a story based on them the next day—if I didn’t want to be tortured, locked up for years, or killed.I was taken back to my cell by a woman guard.“Do they execute people here?” I whispered to her.“Not usually,” she murmured.“Trust in God,” she added, as she raised her eyes toward the ceiling and slammed the heavy cell door shut behind her.I collapsed on my blankets.I supposed it was near midnight, but now was no time to sleep.I had only a few hours to concoct a story unlike any I had ever imagined.Strange, I thought.Two nights ago I claimed I no longer needed to live, and now I am prepared to take almost any measure to avoid death.I tried to recall sayings that had inspired me when I was free.The Greek historian Plutarch had written something like, “Courage is the first step to victory.” And what was it that Gandhi had said about fear? “I do believe I am seeking only God’s Truth and have lost all fear of man.”But neither of these applies here, I groaned to myself.It is impossible to be Gandhi in Evin Prison.God, I asked you for help, but you did not rescue me.And if you don’t save me, who will? I have no choice left but to lie for my life.CHAPTER SIXLet’s pick up where we left off last night,” Javan said to me the next morning.“And don’t think you can get out of here without confessing everything.”Today, he had allowed me to turn my chair around, slip off my blindfold, and face him.He was sitting behind a large metal desk, his face calm and determined.We were the only people in the interrogation room.The sight of him made me squirm.I loathed and feared this man but needed to win his trust and approval to be set free.“You were saying that Mr.D asked you to spy for him,” Javan said, “that he wanted you to collect information about Iran, using your book as a cover.”I took a deep breath.I now had to pretend to be someone I was not: a repentant spy.This would only be temporary, I assured myself.My family and friends would understand I had to do this in order to survive.Once released, I would try to set things right.I had rehearsed my lines the night before, based on the questions I had anticipated.Now all I had to do was play this revolting role.“Right,” I said unsteadily [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]