HOME RUN by Gerald Seymour Page B
Authors: Gerald Seymour
Tags: Drama, thriller, Bestseller, Adventure stories, secret agent, iran, Secret service, MI5, home run, intelligence services, explosives
Ads: Link
lying."
"But you haven't thrown me out, the madman or the liar.
The others were fast enough."
"Your father was killed, and your sister, and you talk about coming back as if it were the matter of crossing a street . . .
Let me tell you why the boys are frightened of you. When you left there were 22 of us in the fourth grade. The boys that you have been to see and me, we are the only ones still living in Tehran. There are eight in exile, and eight have been killed."
"A war doesn't last for ever, not for ever, a war finishes.
The Imam finishes. There is a new country to be built. There will be a new Iran, and that will be my country . . . "
Her eyebrows flickered. "You believe that?"
"It is why I am coming home."
And then the keenness of the girl. "And what part in your new order would I play, or the boys who rejected you?"
He was thinking that he needed a place to store the weapons that he would carry back on his next journey which would be the last journey, that he might need a driver or a minder at his back.
He said, "I would want someone who will share my vision."
She laughed. She sounded as though she mocked him. "You know nothing of Iran . . . "
"I know that I want to live out my life in my own country."
She stood. She played the hostess. She walked towards the door. "I am in love with life, Charlie. I too have friends, relations, who were taken to the Evin gaol, and to the Qezel Hesar gaol and to the Gohar Dasht gaol, and I don't wish to follow them. Nor, Charlie, do I believe a single word, not one, that you have told me."
She had been leggy and spindly when he had last seen her.
He thought that now she was beautiful.
"When I come back I will come here, to see you, to show you my truth."
She grimaced. "And we could go for a drink in the cocktail lounge of the Hilton . . . Trouble is, Charlie, that the Hilton is now the Independence Hotel, Oppressed Area Base Three of the Mobilisation Volunteers of Beitolmoqaddar, it is now the property of the Deprived People's Organisation. Goodbye, Charlie. It was amusing to see you, but not sensible."
"I did not believe you would be afraid."
There was the first moment of bitterness in her tongue. Her voice was sharp. "That's California talk, or London talk. You insult me. You know nothing of my Iran, you know nothing of my life You come here and you tease me, you laugh at me, and for whatever reason you also lie to me."
"What would you like me to bring you?"
"If you contact me then you put me at risk."
"Just tell me what you would like."
"Soap," she said simply.
She let him out of the house.
He thought she was very pretty, very sad. She closed the door before he had reached the pavement. He walked away down the street, and his feet trampled the early fall of the cherry blossom.
The first time he had come to the Manzarieh camp in Niavaran the- statue of Lord Baden Powell, Chief Scout, had been at the gate and he had been employed in the secret police of the former monarchy. He had been sent to the Empress Farah University for Girls to arrest a student who was believed to be a member of a Tudeh cell. The hostel for the College girls was now sealed from the outside by heavy coils of barbed wire, guarded by troops of the Mobilisation of the Deprived Volunteers, separated from the main expanse of open ground by electrified fences. And much that was different in the appearance of the investigator and his transport. The dark grey suit and the BMW coupe had given way to plain grey trousers, and sandals on his feet, and a long shirt outside his waist band; his cheeks were laced in stubble, and he drove a humble Renault 4. It was not quite necessary for him to have renounced all of his previous life, the SAVAK trappings, but the investigator was a cautious man.
In what had once been the Dean of Studies' office, the investigator was made welcome and given tea. Each time that he came to this room it was to seek advice on the suitability of a candidate for operations
"But you haven't thrown me out, the madman or the liar.
The others were fast enough."
"Your father was killed, and your sister, and you talk about coming back as if it were the matter of crossing a street . . .
Let me tell you why the boys are frightened of you. When you left there were 22 of us in the fourth grade. The boys that you have been to see and me, we are the only ones still living in Tehran. There are eight in exile, and eight have been killed."
"A war doesn't last for ever, not for ever, a war finishes.
The Imam finishes. There is a new country to be built. There will be a new Iran, and that will be my country . . . "
Her eyebrows flickered. "You believe that?"
"It is why I am coming home."
And then the keenness of the girl. "And what part in your new order would I play, or the boys who rejected you?"
He was thinking that he needed a place to store the weapons that he would carry back on his next journey which would be the last journey, that he might need a driver or a minder at his back.
He said, "I would want someone who will share my vision."
She laughed. She sounded as though she mocked him. "You know nothing of Iran . . . "
"I know that I want to live out my life in my own country."
She stood. She played the hostess. She walked towards the door. "I am in love with life, Charlie. I too have friends, relations, who were taken to the Evin gaol, and to the Qezel Hesar gaol and to the Gohar Dasht gaol, and I don't wish to follow them. Nor, Charlie, do I believe a single word, not one, that you have told me."
She had been leggy and spindly when he had last seen her.
He thought that now she was beautiful.
"When I come back I will come here, to see you, to show you my truth."
She grimaced. "And we could go for a drink in the cocktail lounge of the Hilton . . . Trouble is, Charlie, that the Hilton is now the Independence Hotel, Oppressed Area Base Three of the Mobilisation Volunteers of Beitolmoqaddar, it is now the property of the Deprived People's Organisation. Goodbye, Charlie. It was amusing to see you, but not sensible."
"I did not believe you would be afraid."
There was the first moment of bitterness in her tongue. Her voice was sharp. "That's California talk, or London talk. You insult me. You know nothing of my Iran, you know nothing of my life You come here and you tease me, you laugh at me, and for whatever reason you also lie to me."
"What would you like me to bring you?"
"If you contact me then you put me at risk."
"Just tell me what you would like."
"Soap," she said simply.
She let him out of the house.
He thought she was very pretty, very sad. She closed the door before he had reached the pavement. He walked away down the street, and his feet trampled the early fall of the cherry blossom.
The first time he had come to the Manzarieh camp in Niavaran the- statue of Lord Baden Powell, Chief Scout, had been at the gate and he had been employed in the secret police of the former monarchy. He had been sent to the Empress Farah University for Girls to arrest a student who was believed to be a member of a Tudeh cell. The hostel for the College girls was now sealed from the outside by heavy coils of barbed wire, guarded by troops of the Mobilisation of the Deprived Volunteers, separated from the main expanse of open ground by electrified fences. And much that was different in the appearance of the investigator and his transport. The dark grey suit and the BMW coupe had given way to plain grey trousers, and sandals on his feet, and a long shirt outside his waist band; his cheeks were laced in stubble, and he drove a humble Renault 4. It was not quite necessary for him to have renounced all of his previous life, the SAVAK trappings, but the investigator was a cautious man.
In what had once been the Dean of Studies' office, the investigator was made welcome and given tea. Each time that he came to this room it was to seek advice on the suitability of a candidate for operations
Similar Books
