Read Online The Septembers of Shiraz by Dalia Sofer - Free Book Online

family.”
    â€œSimple?” Mohsen laughs. “I suppose figuring out all your bank accounts is very simple. Well, I, for one, had trouble following. Transfers from this bank to that bank, withdrawals…I say it takes a pretty sophisticated mind to carry out all those transactions.”
    â€œSophisticated in business, yes. But…”
    â€œListen to me!” Mohsen yells. “We’ll get it out of you, you know that. Just admit it and get it over with.” He leansacross the table, his masked face an inch from Isaac’s. His left iris is a lighter brown than the right, the whites of his eyes a sickly yellow. “We know everything about you. Even how many cucumbers you consume,” he whispers. “News comes to us from outside.”
    Isaac wonders whether there really is a news-bearer. A neighbor? An employee? It occurs to him that his brother Javad may have also been arrested; with his loose tongue Javad was sure to slip and say something incriminating. His brother-in-law Keyvan may also be in prison, given his father’s connections. Surrounded by his daily comforts, Keyvan is a kind man. But he does not have the resources necessary to withstand pain; he would no doubt say whatever it would take to spare himself. And what about Farnaz? If his wife is, in fact, in the women’s block, could she have succumbed to coercion? The thought overwhelms him with guilt. He has always believed that the ultimate test of love is the willingness to die for another. He asks himself if he would die for her. He believes that he would. Is he, then, doubting whether she would do the same for him?
    â€œSo?” Mohsen presses.
    â€œBrother, I swear…”
    â€œHow terrible that it should come to this,” Mohsen says. From his shirt pocket he retrieves a pack of cigarettes, slips one through the mask between his lips, and throws the pack on the table. “Help yourself,” he says to Isaac as the flame of his yellow lighter ignites the tobacco. “We may be here a long time.”
    Isaac pulls a cigarette from the pack. He brings it to hismouth, waits a few seconds for Mohsen to offer him a light. When no offer comes he removes the cigarette and places it on the table. He feels stupid.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Mohsen exhales.
    â€œI…I need a light.”
    â€œWell then, Brother, just ask!” He walks toward Isaac, cigarette in mouth. “And I’d like the same from you. When I ask you for something, I’d like to get it without too much difficulty.”
    Isaac nods, brings the cigarette to his lips again. Is this some kind of game? He has an uneasy feeling but ignores it. Mohsen bends toward him now, his masked face inching closer, and only stops when the orange tip of his cigarette meets Isaac’s bare cheek. Isaac lets out a cry. His unlit cigarette topples from his lips to the floor.
    Mohsen pulls back and exhales, clouding Isaac with a thick puff of smoke, which burns his cheek, as though a hole had been drilled through it.
    â€œYou see what you’re forcing me to do, Brother?” Mohsen says. “Admit it, bi pedar-o-madar—you bastard, admit you are a spy!” He grabs Isaac’s hand and turns it around, burning his palm with the cigarette, which he presses with a child’s determination to crush an insect. “You’re nothing! You hear me?” He stops, brings another cigarette to his mouth and lights it, rips open Isaac’s shirt and presses the cigarette on his chest. Isaac tries to breathe; his body contracts with pain.
    A kick in the stomach throws him to the floor. A wad of saliva lands on his right eye but he has no strength to wipe it.It travels slowly along his face, down the bridge of his nose and through the left eye, landing on the concrete floor.
    â€œIn this prison, Brother Amin,” Mohsen says, “we are used to getting what we want. Your resistance is pointless.”
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    W HEN