Satan's Spy (The Steve Church saga Book 2) André Gallo (top 100 books of all time checklist TXT) 📖

“You need to know up front that anyone who helps us may be in danger. I say that now so that you can change your mind if you wish.”

The two men smiled at him indulgently as if he was telling them the obvious. A low table was set with cups and pastries, and a domestic poured them all tea. Slices of watermelon were laid out on several plates. The two sashed elders motioned for everyone to sit around the table. Firuz was kept busy interpreting as the trip from Tehran was discussed, and the hosts went into some details on Tehran’s shortcomings as a city where no reasonable person would want to live, compared to Yazd.

The conversation was drifting toward the idiocy of the policies that originated in Tehran, and of the people who made them, when Fereydum began edging toward the door. Noticing, Steve said, “Perhaps we could talk about the future, the next step in our voyage.”

“We will talk about the future in the future,” Fereydum said. “For now, it is enough that you are safe. Jemshid will take care of you. Shæb bekheyr (good night).” He left the house and Steve heard a car start and drive away.

The women of the house led Kella and Farah away, and Jemshid said to Steve and Firuz who was still on translation duty, “I will show you to your room. We will talk tomorrow.”

On the way up the stairs, Steve asked, “Firuz, ask him how many people know about us. Fereydum said that this was a community decision? What does that mean?”

Jemshid nodded seriously at the question and said, “Fereydum and I are the elders of our Zoroastrian community in Yazd. I received Hashem’s request, but I needed Fereydum to also approve any action that would put our community at risk. No one else knows. The people in this house are family. My word that you are our honored guests is sufficient; they will not discuss your presence here with anyone outside.”

Jemshid led Firuz and Steve to a bedroom and said good night. While the downstairs had been reasonably cool, the temperature had risen with each step.

* **

Their second-floor bedroom was large enough for two but barely, with an armoire in one corner and two mattresses on the floor. There was an open bottle of water by each mattress. However, the water couldn’t alleviate the heat, made worse by the nearness of the walls to each other. The bathroom was outside, but they had a sink in the room. Steve reminded himself that a hotel room he could afford in the heart of Paris wouldn’t be any bigger.

Steve had looked forward to having a private word with Firuz, and he didn’t delay. As soon as they each put their backpacks down and Steve washed his face, he said, “You’re a good driver. Thanks. What happened to Hashem? You surprised me this morning. I’ve been waiting all day to have a frank talk with you.”

“My uncle said to tell you that it was impossible for him to leave Tehran right now. I shouldn’t either, but his absence would have had more consequences. I am considered a free spirit. Being from California has its pluses and minuses,” he grinned, and then explained, “and I can work at any time and I often wok irregular hours. I’ll go back in the morning. Hashem said he would call you tomorrow.”

Steve took his bottle of water and gulped a mouthful. “I don’t know if that’s a smart idea, using the telephone. The police must have every line tapped looking for us. Tell me, what do you know about all this, why we’re here, and where we’re going,” in a tone he hoped was the right mix of diplomacy and firmness.

Each was sitting on a mattress facing the other, perspiring in the unrelenting heat.

“Hashem told me everything.” “And you told him everything?”

“About what I do, you mean? Yeah. You know, my uncle, he’s something else. Smart guy. At the beginning, when I first got here, he asked no questions. Just talked about family stuff. But little by little, I had no one else to really talk to, openly I mean, about my work. So, even though my project is classified, I brought some issues to him. I decided that it was OK because he’s an important guy in the IRGC.”

Firuz took his shirt off. He got up to use a towel hanging near the sink to wipe the sweat from his chest and arms. “Working is different here—not as organized, as focused, as systematic as what I’m used to. No one’s ever heard of a business plan. Not that these aren’t smart people. Just very different.

“Then, I started to see that we were not all on the same page. That Russian, for example, Kozak. He’s getting mucho dinero and thinks that crippling the United States is just another chance to do what he failed to do the first time around. That guy smells like KGB a mile away.”

“So this cyber war idea is a KGB plan, something invented in Moscow? Is that what you’re saying?”

Firuz hung the towel on its hook and went back to his mattress. He picked it up and said, “I don’t know about you, but I think we’d be cooler on the roof. That’s where I slept last time I was here.”

“That idea definitely has my vote.”

Steve followed Firuz up where they laid their mattresses on the flat roof. It was late enough that few lights were visible, although Steve remembered that the car was going up a slight incline for the last few minutes of their trip and that the house must have a good view of the city.

“This election is a real watershed,” Firuz said. “You’re famous, you know that, right? Picture in the paper?”

“Yeah, I’ve been