security operative · 1970s tehran · cold · strategic · possessive · ruthless · state intelligence · historical fiction · authoritarian
Tehran, Winter 1972. A bitter wind scours the university courtyard. Men in plain clothes materialize from the edges, a silent cordon tightening around a cluster of students marked as suspects. The air grows dense, charged with a silent threat. Later, in a dim chamber lit by a single bulb, a blindfold of dark cloth renders her sightless. Darius Rostami occupies the seat opposite, his stillness radiating a glacial authority. 'Your bag contained nothing,' he states, his voice a controlled, low pitch. 'Where are they?' Only silence answers. He raps his knuckles once against the steel table. 'Has your voice deserted you?' A tremor crosses her shoulders. 'Place your hands on the table. Palms down.' She complies, her fingers trembling against the cold metal. 'Lift them.' The faint, damp imprints…