Isfahan. Shin (ש)

The Room of Reflections

24 Ordibehesht 1402 (May 14, 2023)

Two hours in the windowless room were like being in a non-existent space between two mirrors. Time here had lost its properties, turning into a viscous, uniform substance. The hum of the air conditioner was the only proof that the world outside these walls still existed. Zahra sat on the metal chair, her body stiff, having merged with the sterile, odorless interior. She constructed fractal sets in her mind, delving endlessly into their patterns. It was her way of escaping from reality into pure mathematics, into a world where chaos had its own, albeit incomprehensible, laws.

The door opened. The same Major Karimi entered. He sat down opposite her. He did not look at her. He looked at the voice recorder, which was still switched off.

CASE FILE No. 788-AT/IRGC-ISF
RECORD OF INTERROGATION (continued)

Time Start: 18:20
Time End: 19:34
Location: Counterintelligence Directorate of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, Isfahan. Interrogation Room No. 4.

Subject: Musavi, Zahra, daughter of Ali.
Interrogator: Major Mohsen Karimi, Directorate Investigator.

Present:
The Investigator.
The Secretary (recording the minutes).
Musavi, Z.

Investigator: Dr. Musavi, we were interrupted at an interesting point. Your intuition. So, you claim that it was merely intuition that told you Dr. Yazdi had not just disappeared, but had been killed. Is that correct?
Musavi: Intuition is the result of subconscious data processing. When a system you are observing behaves anomalously, your brain draws a conclusion, even if you cannot articulate all the premises.
Investigator: A very scientific explanation. But we are less interested in the premises than in the conclusions. And my conclusion is this: you know something. So where…

The door opened again. Sharply, without a knock. A man in the uniform of an IRGC Colonel stood in the doorway. He was older than Karimi, with graying temples and eyes that seemed to see not people, but their shadows.

“Major, leave us. You and your secretary.”

Karimi stood up, ramrod straight.

“As you command, Colonel.”

They left. The door closed. The Colonel walked to the table but did not sit. He went to the wall, where a camera was hidden behind dark glass, and flipped a switch on the wall. The red light went out.

“This is no longer an interrogation, Dr. Musavi. This is a conversation. My name is Colonel Asadollah Alavi.”

He sat down. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, but after looking at Zahra, put it away.

“I knew your father well. Ali Ferzali. We met several times in Qom, before the Revolution. He was a brilliant theologian. His interpretation of Surah An-Nur… He had a mind capable of seeing light in the darkness. You are like him in that. Only your religion is physics.”
“My father died when I was fifteen.”
“I know. A car accident. A tragic coincidence.” He paused. “Or not. In our world, there are no coincidences, are there?”

Zahra was silent. This was not the start of a conversation. It was a move in a chess game, the purpose of which she did not yet understand.

“Your colleague, Rustam Yazdi, was also a seeker,” Alavi continued. “They say you sometimes discussed things with him not directly related to work. Philosophy. Poetry. Perhaps something else? Computer games, for instance. World of Tanks?”

The question was thrown out casually, but it shattered the silence like a crack in glass. Zahra felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“That… that was a very long time ago. A couple of times, after I returned from France.”
“And after that?”
“No. I don’t think we spoke of it again.”

The Colonel nodded, as if the answer was expected. His gaze was calm, almost sympathetic, like a doctor speaking to a patient.

“Dr. Musavi, Major Karimi believes you are a spy. I think Major Karimi is a straightforward man who sees only one side of the mirror. I, on the other hand, want to understand what is on the other side. So, how do you know that Rustam Yazdi is dead?”

Zahra looked at him. She realized he wasn’t playing with her. He was trying to understand her.

He took out a photograph. Rustam. Dead. Lying on the asphalt in a pool of blood.

“He was killed two weeks ago. The official story is a robbery; they took his watch and wallet. But you know, we don’t rule out that Yazdi was playing a double game. With whom, is not yet clear. Perhaps with Western intelligence services. Perhaps with Mossad. Or perhaps he was simply being blackmailed. We are considering all possibilities. In any case, he is dead. And those who killed him—our enemies, or his handlers deciding to clean up—are still at large.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you could be next. Not as an accomplice—you are too smart for such foolishness. But as a witness. As someone who might have known or seen something. So I will ask a direct question: did Yazdi try to involve you in anything? Did he propose anything unusual? Ask for any strange favors?”
“No. Never.”
“And his note? ‘Where is the house of my friend, O companions?’ You did find it, didn’t you? And deciphered his message?”

Zahra froze. They knew.

“Yes. I… I was worried. I wanted to understand what had happened.”
“And what did you understand?”
“That he was being followed. Not by you. By someone else. And he decided to meet with them.”
“A brave act. Or a foolish one. The line between them is thin,” Alavi said, standing up.
“But here’s what’s interesting—on the day of his death, he tried to call you. Three times. You didn’t answer,” he continued, looking at the mirrored window of the camera.
“I was with my family. It was Friday.”
“Yes, family is more important than work. But perhaps he wanted to warn you about something? Or ask for help?”

Zahra felt tears welling in her eyes. Not from fear—from guilt.

“I don’t know what he wanted to say.”

Alavi nodded, placing a business card on the table.

“Sometimes, Doctor, the most terrifying enemy watching us is ourselves. And the most difficult cipher is the one that hides the truth from ourselves. Your father searched for God outside. Do not repeat his mistake by looking for an enemy where there is none… This is my direct number. Call anytime. Oh, and pay more attention to your husband—he is worried about you.”

Alavi walked to the door. He paused.

“I am sorry to have disturbed you, Dr. Musavi. The country values your work,” he said, and left.

A few minutes later, the Major and the secretary returned. Karimi turned on the camera, sat down at the table, and opened the file.

Investigator: So, Dr. Musavi, one last question. On the day of Dr. Yazdi’s disappearance, did you notice anything unusual?
Musavi: No. Nothing.
Investigator: Very well. The interrogation is over. Time is 19:34. You are free to go. We will call you if necessary.

Tav (ת): Squaring the Circle