The prisoner shook his head, and then, at last, followed Shirazi's gaze to the picture hanging on the wall. He groaned softly, pained, then sank back into his chair. It took him two attempts before he could get out his next words.
"My uncle… he knows?"
"Of course he knows," Shirazi lied, turning his chair back to face his prisoner directly. "Would you be here otherwise if he didn't?"
"It was so long ago." He spoke in a whisper, to himself, then raised his voice again, speaking to Shirazi. "It ended thirty years ago, thirty-two years ago now. You must tell him that. I beg you, tell him that."
"We did tell him that," Shirazi lied. "But after the last election, after all the unrest, with so many counterrevolutionaries and spies suddenly emboldened, things, as I said, have changed. What we were once obliged to describe as the indiscretion of youth we must now, by order of the Supreme Leader himself, view as crimes against the State. You understand? We did tell him, I assure you."
The man hung his head. "God help me."
Shirazi caught Zahabzeh's look of triumph.
"Not God," Shirazi said. "Not God. We will help you."
The despair that had taken the man near to tears broke with the possibility of renewed hope.
"There is a way out of this for you. There is a way to remove the stain and save yourself. If you help us, then we can help you."
"I will!" the prisoner said. "I will do anything!"
"The first thing you must do," Shirazi said, "is remember."
Then, with the patience of a hunter, Youness Shirazi began walking Hossein Khamenei, the eldest nephew of the Ayatollah Khamenei, of the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran, back through memory. As it turned out, Hossein Khamenei's memory was surprisingly good.
CHAPTER TWO
IRAN-TEHRAN, PARK-E SHAHR4 DECEMBER 0651 HOURS (GMT +3.30)