Oath of Office

Though the technicians tracking the phone were unable to get a precise location, it was painfully easy to find Nima’s apartment. The first person Sassani asked, a scowling woman wearing a black chador and carrying a plastic shopping bag, pointed to the alley stairs.

“Har jaa’i,” she sneered. Literally “everywhere,” it was the Persian euphemism for streetwalker or prostitute.

The woman had on a considerable amount of makeup, leading Sassani to think she might be turning in her competition. He’d met and even employed the services of plenty of whores who wore the chador. Promiscuous dress certainly led to sinful behavior, but a scandalous heart often hid beneath conservative clothing. Sassani laughed inwardly at the thought. His own blushing bride was a perfect example of the impurity that could hide under a chador. He was reasonably sure she’d slept with several men before their marriage — but her virginity meant less to him than the connection to the general made possible by their union.

Sassani shooed the woman in the chador away and then stood in the alley, studying the painted staircase. He wondered idly how long ago Erik Dovzhenko’s feet had stood on the worn treads, if Ysabel Kashani had been with him.

The major put a finger to his lips, warning his lieutenant to be quiet as they crept up the stairs.

The door creaked open when they were nearly at the top. A face peeked out. She was small, looking like a child next to the door, young and pretty in the worn-out way that Sassani preferred. A green cotton headscarf was draped over her head but not tied.

“I am just leaving,” she said. She attempted to push the door shut, but the lieutenant bounded up and put his foot on the threshold.

She cursed, threatening to cut off vital parts of the lieutenant’s body if he did not remove his foot.

Sassani smiled serenely. “Let me speak with her,” he said, stepping up. When her eyes turned toward him, he leaned in as if to explain why they were there, and then punched her hard on the tip of her nose.

He followed the punch inside the small apartment. It smelled like a whore’s apartment — tea and makeup and stale cigarettes. Sassani found there was something earthy about the odor that deeply appealed to him.

Prostitutes saw more than their share of physical violence, and were not easily intimidated by it. Sassani had come prepared, and readied a syringe while the lieutenant tied the woman and threw her facedown on the bed. She pressed her broken nose against the sheets, attempting to stop the flow of blood brought on by the punch through the door. The lieutenant put a knee in the small of her back, grabbing her by the hair and yanking sideways.

Sassani found a vein in the side of her neck, not difficult, since fear and exertion caused them to bulge like purple cables under her olive skin. He injected the contents of the syringe, leaving a dot of blood as he withdrew the needle and stepped away. She thrashed for a few more moments, but the lieutenant kept his knee in place.

“Erik Dovzhenko,” Sassani whispered. “Is he coming back?”

“No.”

“Where is he?”

Nima broke like a cheap clay pitcher when the drugs began to take effect, spilling information so fast that Sassani and his assistant had a difficult time keeping up. The mixture of scopolamine and morphine wasn’t exactly a truth serum, but they did induce a state of confused drowsiness that threw the subject off balance, left her feeling out of control — more effective if less rewarding than physical violence.

In less than ten minutes Sassani knew Dovzhenko and the woman had gone to Akbar Children’s Hospital to find where someone lived. She did not appear to know the name of that person. Rather than continue with the interrogation, the major decided it was better to finish here and go on to the next location. The Russian was close enough to smell now. Sassani would find him — and kill him — tonight.

Sassani took another vial from his pocket and filled up the syringe.

“What… what… are you giving me?” The young woman’s speech was slurred as if she were drunk.

Sassani cocked his head to one side. “I’m afraid you’ll need to be an example.”

Tears ran down the young woman’s cheeks, mixing with blood and mucus. “You do not have to worry. I swear it.”

“Oh, we are beyond worry,” Sassani said. “This would have been so much easier had you only answered my questions before I administered the drug.”

Nima’s face screwed into a stricken grimace as Sassani injected the contents of the second syringe into the same bulging vein in her neck.

“But… you… you never… ask me anything… until after you drugged me.”

Sassani sat on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t?” he said. “Funny. I thought I did.” He patted her on the buttocks, giving his lieutenant a conspiratorial nod. “Oh, well. It is better this way. We have what we need and you are nothing but a corruption.”

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