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Authors: Evelyn Anthony
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because the Shah himself had told him. It would be interesting to see if Imperial Oil could be bullied into agreement. The Shah had no objection to Khorvan imposing the harshest terms on any European company. Ardalan had none either, so long as the motive behind the manoeuvre was purely in the interests of Iran and the Shah. He was not sure that this applied to Khorvan, but he knew the Shah too well to say so at that moment. If the Minister succeeded, the Shah would be pleased. If he failed and the negotiations broke down, then it would be proper to question his motives. Ardalan didnât trust the Minister and he didnât like him personally. He was having him very closely watched, but he hadnât told the Shah this either.
The Colonel was on his way to his office at Niavaran. He drove in a bullet-proof army car and they never used the same route in succession or left at the same time. On that morning he instructed his driver to take a way through one of the poorer districts of the city by way of diversion. From there they could proceed to his office. Since no one knew which way he was travelling, the Colonel felt himself safe from ambush. It was not a prospect that worried him, although he took precautions. He was a brave man and unafraid of violent death. They were driving through a narrow back street when their way was barred by a small crowd. A police motorcycle was parked against the wall. The driver jammed his hand on the horn and the people began to scatter. The Colonel was in civilian clothes; he wore English suits and white shirts with a discreet tie. He leaned forward and told the driver to slow down. He always said that nine-tenths of an intelligence officerâs equipment was a talent for doing jigsaw puzzles, and the tenth part was instinct. Instinct made him curious, and his curiosity made him stop the car to find out what had happened.
His driver called through the window to the crowd. A moment later the cycle policeman came up. The Colonel opened his window and asked what had happened.
âA man has been murdered,â the policeman reported. âHis body is inside the house.â
âAh,â said the Colonel. Tehran had a low murder rate; crimes of violence were rare, though the incidence of burglary was high. The Colonel opened the door and got out. He said one word to the policeman, â SAVAK â, and the man cringed.
âShow me the body,â he said. The inside of the house was dark. He heard the sound of a high, female wail of grief. In a little room at the back the policeman stopped and opened the door. Ardalan recognized the slaughterhouse smell. There was blood all over the floor and he stopped carefully to avoid staining his shoes. The dead man lay on his back; he wore only a greasy shirt, and a woman crouched in the corner. Ardalan told her to be quiet and the crying stopped. He bent over the body. Above the terribly gashed throat, the face was unmarked, the eyes open. The Colonel looked for a full minute at the dead man.
âHis name?â
âHabib Ebrahimi, sir.â
âWhat have you discovered?â
The policeman stammered, âNothing yet, sir. The woman is his wife. She couldnât tell us much. Nobody knows who did this.â
âThe woman is afraid,â Ardalan said. âThis is not the place to ask her questions. Send for a car. They are to bring her to Niavaran. I will talk to her. For the moment touch nothing. My men will come down and search the house. Are there any signs of robbery?â
âNo, sir. He and his wife lived in this room. There are families in the other rooms. Nobody heard anything and nothing has been taken.â
âSend the woman to me,â the Colonel said. âAnd tell her she has nothing to fear. I am sorry for what has happened and I want to give her money. Tell her that.â
He went out into the street and the crowd gave way for him. The policeman opened the door of the car for him and
The Colonel was on his way to his office at Niavaran. He drove in a bullet-proof army car and they never used the same route in succession or left at the same time. On that morning he instructed his driver to take a way through one of the poorer districts of the city by way of diversion. From there they could proceed to his office. Since no one knew which way he was travelling, the Colonel felt himself safe from ambush. It was not a prospect that worried him, although he took precautions. He was a brave man and unafraid of violent death. They were driving through a narrow back street when their way was barred by a small crowd. A police motorcycle was parked against the wall. The driver jammed his hand on the horn and the people began to scatter. The Colonel was in civilian clothes; he wore English suits and white shirts with a discreet tie. He leaned forward and told the driver to slow down. He always said that nine-tenths of an intelligence officerâs equipment was a talent for doing jigsaw puzzles, and the tenth part was instinct. Instinct made him curious, and his curiosity made him stop the car to find out what had happened.
His driver called through the window to the crowd. A moment later the cycle policeman came up. The Colonel opened his window and asked what had happened.
âA man has been murdered,â the policeman reported. âHis body is inside the house.â
âAh,â said the Colonel. Tehran had a low murder rate; crimes of violence were rare, though the incidence of burglary was high. The Colonel opened the door and got out. He said one word to the policeman, â SAVAK â, and the man cringed.
âShow me the body,â he said. The inside of the house was dark. He heard the sound of a high, female wail of grief. In a little room at the back the policeman stopped and opened the door. Ardalan recognized the slaughterhouse smell. There was blood all over the floor and he stopped carefully to avoid staining his shoes. The dead man lay on his back; he wore only a greasy shirt, and a woman crouched in the corner. Ardalan told her to be quiet and the crying stopped. He bent over the body. Above the terribly gashed throat, the face was unmarked, the eyes open. The Colonel looked for a full minute at the dead man.
âHis name?â
âHabib Ebrahimi, sir.â
âWhat have you discovered?â
The policeman stammered, âNothing yet, sir. The woman is his wife. She couldnât tell us much. Nobody knows who did this.â
âThe woman is afraid,â Ardalan said. âThis is not the place to ask her questions. Send for a car. They are to bring her to Niavaran. I will talk to her. For the moment touch nothing. My men will come down and search the house. Are there any signs of robbery?â
âNo, sir. He and his wife lived in this room. There are families in the other rooms. Nobody heard anything and nothing has been taken.â
âSend the woman to me,â the Colonel said. âAnd tell her she has nothing to fear. I am sorry for what has happened and I want to give her money. Tell her that.â
He went out into the street and the crowd gave way for him. The policeman opened the door of the car for him and
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