The assembled hospital staff murmured awestruck greetings. The Grand Imam croaked out a quiet response. At a nod from the hospital director, the staff quietly slipped from the room. Jaffar’s father gave no indication he noticed their departure.
The Grand Imam was followed by Major Hamid Lahm and another old man. This second elder glared at Marc. He needed no introduction to know this was the vizier.
The hospital director nervously turned and spoke to the Grand Imam. His only response was a slight wave of his cane. The director bowed himself from the room.
Jaffar gently drew his father forward to where Marc stood. Sameh and his family had all moved to the opposite corner of the room, near the window. The imam had to twist his head slightly in order to meet Marc’s gaze. His eyes were rheumy but brilliant in their intensity. His voice reminded Marc of tree branches creaking in the wind.
There followed a brief silence. Then Bisan spoke softly with Sameh. He hesitated, then nodded. Bisan walked over to stand between Marc and the imam. She said softly, “The imam thanks you for the life of his son.”
“Please tell him it was an honor to be of service to Jaffar and his family.”
When the young girl had translated, the imam patted Bisan’s cheek and smiled. He spoke to her. Bisan responded. The imam nodded and spoke again. The two of them conversed for a moment. The imam cast Marc a sharp glance, one laden with meaning.
“The imam,” Bisan told him, “he says I am a gift to my family. He asks of my parents. I say, this is my mother. My father I lost to Saddam. The imam says he is sorry that a child has faced such loss. He says we are a people joined by suffering.”
Marc met the old man’s gaze and remained still, watchful.
“The imam, he says he hears your name everywhere. He hears you are a friend to the Iraqi people. A man who can be trusted. The imam asks if what he hears is true.”
Marc did not know what to say. His silence proved to be the best possible response. Major Hamid Lahm said something. When he was finished, Sameh followed with something longer. Then Miriam. And Leyla. And Jaffar. And finally Bisan. All the while, the imam’s gaze rested upon Marc.
When the room was silent once more, the imam spoke at length. Sameh’s quick intake of breath turned all eyes toward him. Major Lahm locked gazes with Sameh and gave a terse nod. Miriam and Leyla murmured together in the manner of women sharing deep sorrow.
Sameh stepped forward. “Bisan, let me be the one to speak these words.”
Something in Sameh’s gaze silenced the girl. She gripped Marc’s hand and took a single step toward the window. The imam watched this and smiled. Marc had the impression that very little escaped this man’s attention.
Sameh told Marc, “We have just learned that last night seven children were kidnapped. And a newly wedded woman. And an aged grandmother who is ill with diabetes. All taken in the same hour that we were attacked at our home.”
The imam seemed impatient now, speaking again before Sameh finished translating. Sameh’s voice quickened to keep up. “The three attackers at our home will survive their wounds, as will Jaffar’s bodyguards. It is the one bright spot from this night of sorrow and loss, that no one was killed. The imam says the attackers have been questioned by Major Lahm. He has confirmed they are Iranians.”
The vizier sucked in a quick breath and opened his mouth. The imam glanced over. The one look was enough to silence him.
“The imam says that all the families who suffered losses this night are involved with the new coalition. The imam finds this very interesting. He finds it especially interesting that one of the attackers at our home has also confirmed that he is a member of the Revolutionary Guard.”
This time, the vizier would not be silenced by a look. He spat out words that were ignored by everyone. Most especially the imam, who continued to address Marc.
“The Revolutionary Guard is the direct arm of the ayatollahs. The religious elite of Iran claim to be the strongest supporters of the imam. They also claim to be Iraq’s closest friends. They say over and over how they only have Iraq’s best interests at hand. How can this be, the imam wonders, when the Guard is discovered to be involved in such atrocities? The imam has no choice but to question Iran’s motives. This is very hard for him, because he studied there and maintains close contact with scholars in that country. The imam says he still dreams in Farsi. He feels his heart will always be bound by both of these countries, the nation that is his by birth, and the nation that harbored him and his family while Saddam drenched his home country in the blood of innocents.”
The vizier’s voice had risen to fill the room with an incessant whine, like a dentist’s drill. But the imam continued to hold Marc with his gaze. Sameh lifted his voice above the vizier’s. “The imam says all the people affected by last night’s tragedy have today resigned from the new political party known as the Alliance. These nine politicians will only say that they have reconsidered their position and decided that the religious conservatives should form the new government. The imam says he cannot help but question this, even though he was instrumental in founding the conservative party. How can this be right, he asks himself, if the conservatives win because of pressure from Iran?”
Then the imam said something that cut off the vizier’s complaints abruptly. The man’s jaw hung open as he gaped at the imam.
Sameh translated, “The imam says he has nothing with which to repay you except a gift of trust. The imam has decided that the day after tomorrow, he will address the people of Iraq. He will say that he was wrong to distrust the Americans. He will say that he fears the Iranian government has not been truthful with him or with the people of Iraq. He will say that although the nation has suffered greatly during the war and the occupation that followed, the Americans have done their best to restore order and democracy. He will urge the newly elected officials to set aside their differences and form a government of national unity.”
The imam started to turn away, then smiled at Bisan and motioned her forward. The old man leaned down and spoke briefly into her ear. He patted her cheek, nodded to Marc, and motioned for his son to usher him from the room.
Major Lahm remained in the doorway, head turned toward the imam’s slow retreat down the hallway. He stepped into the room. “What the imam says is true. Nine of the top Alliance officials have just announced their resignations.”
Marc said, “Follow Jaffar. See if you can have a private word with him. We need access to Taufiq’s closest friends.”
Lahm squinted. “This is urgent?”
“I think they just might hold the key,” Marc said.
When Lahm had departed, Sameh asked Bisan, “What did the imam say to you?”
Bisan looked at Marc. “The imam says, bring proof and do so swiftly, or we will both be silenced.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
J affar came through for them, and did so in remarkable speed. Marc was still being checked out of the hospital when the imam called Sameh to say Taufiq’s two closest friends would meet them at the el-Waziri offices.
Hamid Lahm’s Land Cruiser was followed by a Hyundai containing Sameh’s two bodyguards. Sameh lamented the fact that he no longer could travel unseen from one place to another. His every move was mapped out. His home was under constant guard. Bisan had been driven from the hospital to school by the guards assigned to the women. Sameh wished he could believe their safety was worth this loss of independence. All the signals now seemed to point toward a gradual and steady push to the exit with those green cards.