Free The Screaming Eagles by Michael Lawrence Kahn Page B

impossible was the norm.
    Dazed and in shock, unable to speak, for he only had $1,500.00 in cash, he watched as the bidding started for Swiss Air to Geneva. It would be $230 if fate allowed you to live in a normal country, with normal people, in normal conditions. Geneva sold for $6,800. Crushed, Michael felt tears in his eyes as he decided to give up. Standing at the counter was not going to get him a ticket. He turned and walked away, eyes downcast, ashamed that once again he had failed.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    The driver slowed and turned into an alley. Changing down the gears of the car, he drove behind dark silent buildings that took up an entire block. A sentry waved them through the checkpoint. Good, Sadegh thought. The sentries were lax, used to the routine of him arriving at his office just before curfew. He never entered Savak headquarters through its front entrance, always through the back alley. The driver parked in the general’s designated space, alongside the colonel’s car, next to three jeeps. He asked the general if he should wait. Sadegh dismissed him curtly telling him to pick him up at home in the morning. Quickly he got out the car, walked a few steps and unlocked a heavy metal door leading into the windowless building. Closing it behind him and locking it once again, he walked into his office. His chief of operations saluted smartly and handed him a large folder, which contained daily reports. Sadegh put it on his desk. “I’ll read it later. What is the code color for driving tonight?” “White circle, passenger side. They are attached to your folder that is on your desk, sir,” replied the colonel. “Which car are you using, Sir? I would be happy to attach them for you.” “Thank you, Colonel, I will do it myself. Relax Khalil I have a few minutes before my wife picks me up. Whisky as usual?” The colonel sat down. “Thank you, Sir.” His back to the colonel, Sadegh poured a few drops of colorless liquid into the glass, then poured a generous shot of Chivas Regal. He stirred the whisky, then added ice. He gave the glass to the colonel. Taking a glass, he poured a splash for himself. “Salut.” They both drank. Sadegh knew the sedative would take about two minutes to knock out the colonel. “Khalil, forget your report. Tell me the truth, how bad was today?” “Well Sir, today was the worst day so far. Just in our sector alone, including the bazaar district, Mujahidin have killed sixty-four. Twenty-nine are soldiers. Bombings are escalating, as are the firebombs. Sixteen buildings have been bombed. More and more prisoners, under torture, are implicating the Bazaaries who control and run all the open-air market places in the cities. The Bazaaries account for more than half the business and commerce in our country, and have always supported the Shah. We cannot understand why they are now financing Khomeni’s fanatics. I’m trying to set up an appointment for you to meet with the Bazaaries’ group of elders tomorrow which will include their bankers, traders and merchants.” “Good, arrange for them to meet me here. Drink up, my friend, I will have to leave soon.” The colonel drained his glass. Sadegh watched him as he got up and walked toward his desk. In mid-stride, he grunted and shook his head. His right leg bent, then buckled. The colonel collapsed. Sadegh lifted the telephone. “Captain, this is time for interrogations. Make sure that I am not disturbed under any circumstances. Is that clear? Thank you, Captain.” Sadegh put down the phone. He bent over Khalil, picked him up by his legs and dragged him into the colonel’s office. He left him sprawled on the floor, checked the closet to see if the colonel’s uniforms were still hanging there. Sadegh glanced at his watch. Maryam would soon be arriving to pick him up bringing a gardener he had hired a month ago. The man had been hired not for his gardening skills, but because he was approximately the same height and build as Sadegh