The Long Journey Home,Part Two: The Best Way Out

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
They have to get out of there! Their lives are in danger. One mistake and they are dead. What is the best way out!?

Submitted: April 20, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 19, 2017



The Long Journey  Home, Part 2

The Best Way Out 



The car was now  approaching a very dark tunnel. “Fuck you man!" shouted Bob."Why the hell are you takin us... into that  dragon hole!” 

“Excuse your dad's language, Missy ,” said John turning half way to face the girl behind him “He's still dead drunk! He's usually a bit more polite -- when he is sober!”


“Fuck them all!” said the other girl sitting  in the back. “Men are all the same, drunk or sober!”

“Hey!” said the driver trying to turn towards the girl in the back laughing, “Dis eslave girl espeaks Inglish!”

“With such a good accent too,” said John looking back “Where 're you from, Miss?”

“None of your God damn business!” said the girl harshly.

“I'm not gettin a damn thing…out of what this dummy is sayin!” Bob grumbled pointing to the driver. “Not a single …shit!”

“As I toldju before,” said John smiling, “ They talk like this  because they don't have ‘th’s, and ‘w’s, in their language.  Do you remember!?”

“Yeah…,” said Bob nodding his head repeatedly.  “But ...without sayin th's and…‘w’ could anyone... talk!?”

John chuckled and began looking  at the scenery.

The whole area had grown dead quiet now. They had come out of the tunnel and were moving fast on a highway surrounded by huge trees. Everythig was  submerged  in a thick fog . It looked like they were passing through a magic forest.  
“The trees look…so much taller now….than when we came,” mumbled Bob after a while. “How could they…have grown….so much in a couple  of days! ”

“You’d better keep quiet when you're  this  drunk, Bob,” muttered John before turning around to look at the girl sitting next to the window in the back. “I was told that …you were Iranian,” he said staring at  the girl , “Your name and all… seem to be Iranian too.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told … those mother-fuckers!” mumbled the girl.

“ Lousy shit!!” exclaimed Bob. “What a… stinkin dirty language! Where the hell does she…come from?...a public shithouse!?”

“She is a good person, Dad,” said the girl sitting next to Bob. “She is just too tense now and ….a little scared.”

She paused for a few seconds and then added, “You are not in a much better shape yourself!”

“Don’t be escared girl!” said the driver trying to turn around to look at the woman behind him. “Hajit vill get’chu home very very quick...pussycat!”

A second later the car gained speed.

“You should watch out… for the highway patrol guys,” said the girl sitting next to Bob. “If they catch us, we may get into  big trouble. We were both sold to the slave dealers this morning!”  

“Don’t worry…about that, my angel, Fereshteh darling,” said Bob, “We’ve… bought you back. We paid them… sixty…. million!”

There was a short pause and then the girl asked, “Who did you pay? The guy at the office?”

“Yes!” said John emphatically. “Actually, your father paid them. I just used his credit card.”

There was another pause before the girl spoke again, “The guy who sold us was wearing a uniform when he first arrived in the shelter. He was a major or colonel or something. I don’t think the office guy had the authority to change the result of their sale. He probably changed our pictures or names or something to make it look like we were among the returnees. But sooner or later, they’ll find out. They may not give a damn about those they've sent back, but they carefully account for those they 've  sold!”

“My God!” exclaimed Bob, “You seem to know …such a lot of fucking shit… about this country! Are you sure… you're… my daughter, you ...bitch!?”

The girl giggled for a second and then frowned. “I hung around with one of the returnees for a while…in the Karaj shelter,” she explained looking at John sitting next to the driver. “She told me all about the system here before she was taken away.”

“Didju really…believe everythin that shitty girl toldju, Fereshteh…my  darling?” mumbled Bob. “It sounds like a …goofy fairy tale…to me!”

“Fairy tale my ass!” exclaimed the other girl. “This was the second time they took me there. I was lucky the first time! They just raped me six or seven times and sent back." She stopped to catch her breath before she began again. "I was told I had to wait for the next group of bidders to arrive 'to get a well-paid job abroad.’ I cried like hell all the way back!” She paused for a few seconds before she went on, “I didn’t have a hunch that I was the lucky one that time! My friend, Sara, who was chosen…is now a slave-whore somewhere in Saudi Arabia!”

“Can you guys espeak eslowly so I can understand too?” asked the driver looking back before he suddenly stepped hard on the brakes.

“My God Firooz! What in the hell are you doing!” exclaimed John.

The car skidded some twenty feet before it stopped. “Sorry!” said the driver “I can fix dis! Don vorry!”

He opened the car door and gently stepped out. Two police officers were standing in the middle of the road. A patrol car was on the side of the highway flashing its red light trumpet.  

“We’d better get out of this fucking car and run,” said the girl sitting near the door bending down her head and trunk. “If they catch us again, we’ll wind up in a graveyard shithouse!”

“I’ve got a gun,” said John solemnly. “If they try to take you, I’ll shoot them both!” 

 He then moved his torso forward and took something out of the glove compartment. “This belonged to a policeman too, once!” he added proudly.

The girl gently moved up and cautiously looked out of the window of the car.

The driver was now standing beside one of the cops, smiling. Soon he began chuckling. One of the policemen was laughing too.

“I think…he is selling us out for peanuts!” said Bob sluggishly, still somewhat dazed.

“Is that all we’re worth to them, Dad?” Said Fereshteh disenchanted. “You shouldn’t have drunk so much! Not at such a dreadful time!”

“He didn’t want to,” John said staring at the people outside. “I asked him to do that while waiting for me so that everything looked casual. I guess things got a bit out of hand in the process!”

Many vehicles were going by now. They all slowed down as they approached the patrol car and sped up after they had passed it.

Soon the driver began walking gently back.  He shook his head as he took his seat. “It cost… one hundred,” he mumbled as he sat behind the wheel.

“One hundred what!?... Dollars? Euros...? What?” asked Bob .

“No,” answered John. “Their unit of money is Thousand Tomans , worth about twenty five cents. I thought you knew all about that!”

“He paid them about twenty bucks’ dad,” said Fereshteh. “Not a high price for our freedom!” 

“Your Dad paid twenty million for your freedom,” said John with a grin. “He is a generous man!”

“He should pay me much much!” said the driver. “Dey vanted to search de car.  Dey say who is doze bitches in car? I say dey are my sister. Dey say you must pay fifty for espeedin and two hundred for your bitch sisters’ ass!”

“You’re a fucking asshole yourself, you mother-fucker!” shouted the girl sitting next to Fereshteh. “You’d better save your own ass!”

The driver shrugged his shoulders muttered a few things and pressed hard on the gas pedal. Soon the highway came to an end and they reached a small town.

“If you vano eat sometin, I can estop here,” the driver said. “It’s Marzanabad.”

“We’d better not stop anywhere,” John retorted. “It’s too risky to get off the car. We can eat when we get home!”

“How in the world…did you get caught, Sima?” asked John soon after they went past the town. “Sima is your name, I suppose, isn’t that right!?”

“It was …easy!” said the girl. “An English friend of mine…and I…were walking in the street…when a police van…stopped us and arrested us for wearing improper clothes.”

“Oh yeah?” said Bob in surprise. “What kind of improper clothes… were you wearing!?...topless bathing suits…? Bikinis with no bottoms? Or what?”

“I think you are still a bit drunk, Bob,” said John turning back to look at him. “You think this place is a Bahama beach or something!?”

“I was arrested for that reason too,” said Fereshteh. “I think my scarf was too small for them and my slacks too tight. But the main problem was that I didn’t want to give them my grandma’s address lest they would trouble her; and they thought I was a runaway girl with no place to stay and no one to turn to. That’s why they sent me to the Karaj shelter.”

“What happened to your British friend?” John asked turning to Sima after a while.

“She was…arrested too,” Sima answered after a few seconds. “I think…they have sent her to the Emirates…as a slave.”

“Oh Yeah!?” asked Bob surprised. “You mean she had no one… what-so-ever to look for her!? No family relations… , no friends,… no government support?”

Sima shrugged her shoulders. “She didn’t, I guess, or maybe for some reason of her own…she didn’t want to ask anyone for help!”

“How did you come to get stuck with those people?” asked John turning back towards her. “I heard you were living with your mother and step-father …and that you had a pretty good life….until a year ago or so?”

The girl shrugged her shoulders again, “I guess I did … until about two years ago…when … I got married.”

Now everyone was looking at her. The driver was turning his body and it was only when John pushed his head away that he started looking at the road.

“You mean… your troubles began… after you got married?” asked Bob shaking his head trying to do away with the remaining influence of alcohol.

“No,” Sima said, “not after….getting married. They began before that!”

 She looked out of the window for a few minutes and then continued, “You see, a suitor had come… for my step-sister. It was an older man … and he was pretty ugly.  My sister didn’t want to marry a guy like that. So my step-father insisted that … since he had spent so much money on me and that the suitor was wealthy, I’d better marry him instead of my step-sister and…give some of the guy’s money to him in return for my past expenses.”  She stopped and since the car was now going up a very steep winding road with forests all around it everyone began looking at the scenery.

“I didn’t know about this,” finally Fereshteh said. “Did they really force you to marry that guy!?”

“In a way, yes!” said Sima. “You see, I wasn’t very happy about staying with my step-father and my step-sisters, and I was looking for an opportunity to somehow get out of that house. That, therefore, presented me with a good chance and I decided to take it.  So, I pretended to agree with my step-father.” She stopped again and began looking out of the window.

“Come now!” said Fereshteh who seemed to have grown interested in hearing the rest of the story.  “You never told me about any of this! I thought you had just come to the area because you had a good job offer or something…”

Sima shrugged her shoulders, “Well, that may’ve been part of it…but not all! You see, I married the guy while I had a good boyfriend and three older friends who wished to marry me, one of whom was … my English teacher.”

“It’s beginning to… sound like a… love story!” said Bob, “Are you sure… you’re not making it all up!?”

Sima laughed. “If you think I’m makin it all up, why do you want me to continue tellin you? You’d like to hear a fairy tale or somethin?”

“Don’t take him seriously, dear girl!” said John. “As you can see, he’s still a bit loaded!”

“Yah, he may be right,” said Bob. “Don’t mind me!  Just go on with your story.”

“There isn’t really much to say,” muttered Sima, “I don’t want to make you people bored.” She coughed and then added, “I married the guy and, with the help of my step-father, I fixed myMahrieh at 700 million Tomans, which was not really out of the ordinary! Most girls are asking for very high Mahriehs to protect themselves against the suitors that they know nothing about.  I didn’t break up with my boyfriend either. I didn’t even cut off my relationship with those older guys.”

“It’s really becoming exciting!” said Bob looking thrilled.

“What’s this Mahrieh business, now,” asked John. “Is it the marriage portion or something that the husband has to pay the wife whenever she asks for?”

“Yeah, but dat is God damn much!” said Firooz who had been all ears.  “I don vant marry a nasty voman like dat!”

“Well, you don’t have to,” said John. “The girl’s already married!”

“Where are we going from here?” Sima suddenly asked, looking at John. “You said my father sent you to take me back!”

“Yah, a sort of,” said John. “Of-course I never met your father. A client of mine offered me the job and I accepted it. What’s more, I didn’t say for sure that I would take you back because…, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t so sure I could do it!”

“Well you’ve accomplished your task,” said Bob, “with the help of my money of-course!”

“I guess you are finally sober!” said John. “I just hope you remember that I rescued your daughter, too, in the process!”

“You God damn it!” said Firooz in protest. “I’m drivin! I get tired! I vano hear de interesting estory! Please let her tell!”

“There isn’t much left to say, man,” said Sima. She paused for a while but no one spoke. They all seemed to be waiting for her to start again.

 “A while after the marriage,” she began indifferently, “my old-bag husband who was getting tired of me claimed that I’d had sexual relations with other men and I had to be Sangsar-ed , which meant to be killed by people throwing stones at me. When we went to court, my lawyer told me that my husband needed five witnesses to testify in court that they had seen me have sex with those people in order to win their case. He then added that since my husband was not a very popular man in the area, no one would take the risk of lying in court to support him. Eventually my attorney suggested that since I was so pretty and all, if I was willing ‘to be nice’ to him, to the district attorney, and to the judge, I could win .”

She stopped and looked around. Everybody was eagerly staring at her to hear the rest of the story. A second later the driver shouted, “O.k.! Vhat happened den!”

Sima laughed. “Nothing really,” she continued, “I spent one night with my lawyer, one night with the district attorney, and two nights with the judge. My husband lost the case and everybody began blaming him for false accusations to scandalize his own wife!”

“Oh God!” said Fereshteh, “I didn’t know you were such a tricky, mean girl! What happened then?”

“Well,” answered Sima, “with the help of the attorneys and judges I sued my husband for my Mahrieh and other things that were legally due to me. He had to give me his house and its furniture, as well as all the money he had in his bank accounts to pay most of my Mahrieh, and had to spend seven months in jail in order to be forced to pay the rest of it!”

“Oh, God! What a treacherous girl!” said Bob. “How in the world could youdo all that!? That’s absolutely immoral!! It’s not fair at all!”

“No, Dad,” said Fereshteh. “I think that was not really unfair!”

She nodded a few times and added after a pause, “How come you don’t think it was unfair  to make a seventeen-year-old girl marry a fifty-five-year-old guy but it is not fair for the girl to get the money that is legally due to her!?”

“But she acted like… like a…”said Bob looking around.

They were now going through a tunnel with all its lights turned off and the place was pitch-dark.  So, everybody grew quiet.

“I tink ve  have finished half of the vay,” said Firooz when they rode out of the tunnel. “I van’o hear de rest of de estory, please!”

“I think the story is really over,” said John. “My client finds out about her rich daughter’s fate and decides to help her get out of the country! And we know the rest.”

“If she were rich,” said Bob, “how come she couldn’t pay her own way out?” He paused for a second and then added, “If we hadn’t come to rescue my daughter today, this wealthy woman would have become a slave!”

 Everyone was now looking at Sima, including the driver who was trying to turn his body all the way around to  look at the girl’s face.

Sima smiled, “I said I won the case and got the money, but I didn’t say that I won the fight!”

She looked down at her own feet and added after a long pause, “Now that I had money and my own house, I decided to continue my studies. I became a university student and was about to finish my second term when one day…:”

She stopped again in order to cough a few times and then added, “I was arrested for wearing indecent clothes and was sent to the Karaj shelter without any questioning. I guess they did not need to ask me any questions because they already knew all the answers! My ex-husband had a number of friends in some government agencies!”

“Vat happened to your house and money,” asked Firooz, turning his head around again.

“Well, they can’t take the house away,” said John, “so my client will surely get his daughter’s property back out of their hands.”

“Do you have any evidence, I mean…documents and things, showing that the house belongs to you?” John asked turning to Sima.

There was a long pause. “I must have them some place,” Sima said eventually. “I don’t really remember!”

“I can find it for you!” said Firooz shaking his head repeatedly.

“It’s no time for you to go abroad then,” said Bob after a time.

The car had climbed a tall mountain and was entering the longest road tunnel.

“I have to go!” said Sima. “I’m really fed up! I must get out of this country!”

“How did your dad find out about all this?” asked Fereshteh. “Did you contact him from ‘the shelter’ somehow?”

“Yeah,” said Sima after a pause. “I sent him a message, through a friend.”

“Yes, my pal who told me about your father’s plan said that Mr. Borgi had learned about your misfortune through a friend.” He shook his head and then asked facing Sima, “By the way, is your family name Borgi or Gorgi?”

“Borgi,” said Sima, “or Bergi rather.”

“De longest tunnel is finished. Ve Vill be in Karaj city soon,” declared the driver, Only seventy kiloometr  left!”

“Oh God!” said Fereshteh with horror, “Do we have to go to that horrifying city again!?”

“Don be afraid, Miss,” said the driver, “It is very good city! Very nice people!”

“No need to go there, Firooz,”said Bob. “These kids have bad memories of the place. Go past it as fast as you can!”

“Yes, sir,” said Firooz pressing the gas pedal accelerating down the steep road.

“Thank you, buddy,” said Sima, “I don’t even want to see the sight of that frightful place from a distance! It makes me nervous wreck!”

“Where did you learn such good English,” asked John turning back towards Sima.”

“Where!?” asked Sima looking a bit surprised. “Well,” she added after a while, “As I toldju , I had a very good English teacher. A good-looking young man. He was my boyfriend for some time.”

“A nice… sexy teacher, huh!?” said Bob still a bet drowsy.

Soon they went through a tunnel and then a few others. They began counting them while looking at the beautiful scenery of mountains, forest and the river flowing right below them. Then they reached a steep winding road and Firooz slowed down a bit.They fell asleep one after another.

“Hey guys,” Firooz suddenly said loudly, “You’d better vake up! Dere is a cop car!”

At the bottom of the hill that the car was descending, two patrol cars were parked surrounded by a few officers and a number of passenger cars and people.

They all sat up quickly putting their clothes in order. When they approached the place, one of the patrolmen signaled them to stop. A few minutes later an officer came towards them.

“Govahinameh va karte machine!” he said commandingly.

“Roo chesham,” said Firooz taking out his documents. He then handed them all to the man. The officer looked at them very carefully for a while, nodded and then shook his head. “Digeh tond naro!” he said returning all the documents.

“Chashm,” said Frirooz as he took off.

“What did he want?” asked Fereshteh tensely after the place was out of sight.

“Noting!” answered the driver. “Just a little dough! Dat’s all!”

“How much?” asked John as they began descending another steep winding road.

“Hundred thousand,” answered Firouz.

“What did he say….after he got the money?” asked Sima.

“Noting. He just told me not to drive so fast,” said Firooz as he pressed hard on the gas pedal laughing.

The car was now going fast through a forest-like area with a narrow asphalt road. Everyone was dozing again when they entered another tunnel. After going through a very crowded street, they reached a wide highway.

“Ve vill be home in forty minute,” declared the driver.

“They’re all asleep,” said John with eyes half closed.

“Poor people,” said Firooz, “It look like dey did not esleep for a million year!”

“You just watch the road!” said John commandingly pointing to the heavy traffic pouring in from all sides.

An hour later they were near the place where John lived.

“We’d better not go there directly,” John said to Bob who was now wide awake.

“Why?” asked Bob. “Do you think they may have your address or something?”

“Well,” said John, “I didn’t give them my exact address but … I’m afraid I wrote the name of our alleyway. Stupidly enough I couldn’t think of another  street name at that moment… and I was afraid to give them a phony[WU1]name lest they’d immediately  discover it was fake!”

“Well then,” said Bob, “let’s just keep our fingers firmly crossed and our eye wide open!”

“Don vorry a bit!” said Firooz confidently. “I’ll park you here and valk in de alley myself. If I see anybody vaiting to catch you, I vill come and tell! O.k.?”

“What else can we do!?” said Fereshteh despairingly.

“We’d better go … somewhere else,” said Sima nervously.

The driver looked at everybody’s face one by one, smiled gently, and strolled away.

Ten lifelong minutes later he walked back shaking his head.

“I suspicious a little!” he said frowning. “Dere is a man… selling vegetables  in the middle of the alley. Anoder man is sitting… a little farder avay shining shoes!”

“So what!?” asked Bob. “Why are you suspicious of a vegetable salesman!?”

“The secret police used to use this trick sometimes, I’ve heard,” said Fereshteh. “They used to keep watch on people’s houses that way. Maybe Firooz knows something.”

“What should we do then?” asked Bob.

“Oh, God!” Firooz suddenly said looking to his left.

A police car was gently approaching them. Firooz shook his head, turned around, and quickly walked towards it.

“I hope he can handle them this time too,” John said.

“Are you sure… he is handling them!?” asked Bob staring at John’s face.  “Did you actually see him give those cops the bribe last time?”

John made a grimace and shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe…that sun-of-a-bitch is working for the police!” exclaimed Sima. “I think we should get out of here while we have the chance!”

They all began staring at the driver standing by the side of the police car talking to someone in there.

“John,” said Bob softly, “Maybe you should get behind the steering wheel and be ready to … drive away… just in case.”

“No,” John said firmly. “It’s useless running away. They’ll catch us easily, and

they’ ll be more suspicious. We’d better be patient and take our chances with Firooz.”

They had to wait a few more long minutes before Firooz returned. He sat behind the wheel without saying a word and began to drive.

“Where the hell are we goin!?” asked Sima angrily.

“You vait!” said Firooz as he sped up the car.

“No! You wait! You son-of-a bitch!” said Sima in a louder voice.

“Come now,” said Fereshteh looking at Sima. “Be a little patient! He will tell us where he is going in a minute.”

 “No! I von’t!” said Firooz shaking his head. “I don have no idea vhere I’m goin!”

“What the hell do you mean!?” asked John now getting infuriated.

“I told de cop guys dat I was looking for a place…to take my passengers. Dey gave me de address… and I said tank you and goodbye. Dey don know who ve are. Dey let me go because I made them donkey!”

John and Fereshteh began to laugh. “So ‘you made them donkey’, huh!?” said John after a while, still laughing. “He means he fooled them!” he explained after a few seconds.

“So what are we going to do now?” asked Bob.

“I have an idea,” said Sima after a few seconds. “I know of someone who might give us a place to stay for the night. We can make our plans there and leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, really?” Said Fereshteh. “You never mentioned you had any friends or relatives in this city. Who are they?”

“It is…,”said Sima after a long pause, “some old uncle of my father’s. I haven’t seen them for… quite a while.”

“Will they really give us some place to sleep for the night?” asked Bob.

“I guess…so,” said Sima wearily. “We don’t have any other choice, do we?”

“I can…take you to my own house,” said Firooz, “but… it is very very small …and dirty.”

“No thanks,” Bob said. “Let’s try the young lady’s uncle’s house. We will think of something else if it doesn’t work!”

“O.k.,” said Sima. “I think it’s not very far from here. Just turn right at the next corner. I will tell you where to go after that.”

“Wonderful memory you have!” said John. “After all those years of …fighting your husband and all… in the north of the country!”

They all sat in their places quietly for about thirty minutes watching Sima  giving  Firooz directions. Finally the car slowed down and stopped.

“Are you sure…it is here?” asked Firooz after turning off the engine.

“Yeah, quite sure!” answered Sima. “I have been here…several…times. It’s the third door.”

“You don’t mean de tird one on de right, do you?” asked Firooz in a rather tense voice. 

“Yes, I do!” said Sima looking surprised, “How didju know!?”

“God!” said Firooz loudly. “How did I know!?  Dat’s a whore house! I’ve been der myself!” Then shouted while hurriedly turning on the engine, “Can’t you see de police car on de oder side of de street? Dere’s always a police car dere vaiting… to catch the whores who run avay!”

“Now I know the reason for your dirty language!” said John looking at Sima as the car dashed away from the area. “You are a regular whore!”

He then turned around pointing his gun at her.  “No wonder you didn’t know Sima’s last name! I should’ve thrown you out of the car the moment you gave me the wrong answer about her family name!”

“What answer?” asked Fereshteh. “Don’t you have her identity card… with her name and picture?”

“Doze office bastards can do anyting!” said Firooz now slowing down the car because of heavy traffic. “Dey can make you an I.D. card in two minute!”

“Please take us to a deserted place quickly!” said John to Firooz commandingly! “This bitch may be a police agent. We’ve got to find out what she’s up to and what she’s done to my client’s daughter!”

“Yes, sir, by all means!” said Firooz. “I’d like to do someting to her myself!”

“No need for any of that,” said the girl, “I’ll tell you the whole story voluntarily.”

“So you’re not Sima!” said Fereshteh,”Is that right?” 

“No, I’m not!” the girl said. “But you don’t have to worry about her. For all I know, she is safe and sound – for the time being at least!”

“How do you mean?” asked Fereshteh.

“Well, you see,” she began to explain, “Sima and I were together in that so-called shelter for quite some time. We became such close friends that we told each other the details of our life stories. The account I gave you about my past history was actually a summary of her life story -- exactly as she had told me herself...! So, when she was picked to be sent to Saudi Arabia to become…a slave… and I noticed how miserable she felt…I told her that …I would go in her place.” She stopped, rubbed her eyes a few times and added, “Sima and I look somewhat alike. We changed our hairdos, the form of our eyebrows, our makeup, and finally… our I.D.s.”

“You mean to tell me that,” said John angrily, “in such a short period of time  you had become such great friends that you decided to let yourself become a slave in order to help her out!?”

“Well, I should say yes and no!” answered the girl, “You see, I am a British citizen. My name is Monica and I was born in London. If I were sent to Saudi Arabia, I could somehow find my way to the British Embassy and seek their help and support. So, I was planning to kill two birds with one stone. I was going to help my friend out of slavery… and myself out of this country.”

 “Oh, yeah!?” said John cynically, “May I ask you then what in the hell was a British girl like you doing in a shelter for runaway girls in Karaj!?” 

The girl called Monica shrugged her shoulders, “It’s a long story,” she whispered shaking her head. She stared out of the window of the car for a little while and then added, “I was a bar girl in London before I met Fredi.” She paused a few seconds and then continued, “Fredi was a good-looking and very rich man. He was working in their embassy and told me that he had a very wealthy family and a huge house in his country. We got to become pretty good friends soon… and after a while he asked me to marry him.” She paused again to wipe her eyes, and then added, “One day he came to me and said that his term of office in the embassy was over and he was going to go back home for good. He told me that he was leaving in two or three days and asked me to go along with him. We went to their embassy the next day and they filled out some forms showing that we were married. A couple of days later we flew to Tehran.”

“A pretty nice story!” said John. “Then may I ask how you ended up in a whorehouse if you were married to an Iranian diplomat?”

“I don’t really know if Fredi, whose real name was Farajollah, was really a diplomat or not,” Monica explained. “He said he was… and he seemed to have a lot of friends at their embassy. But when we came here, I realized that he was not all that rich and his house was not half as big as he had boasted. What’s more, he was living with his mother and father and a brother who attempted to rape me every day! Then one night when he had grabbed me, my husband suddenly arrived and got so furious that he threw me out of the house.” She stopped and began to sob.

“O.k. young lady,” said Bob, “We are all sorry about what happened to you, but we don’t have much time to worry about those things right now! We’re in deep trouble ourselves!”

“Yes, my dad is right,” said Fereshteh. “We have to find ourselves a safe place to stay for the night. So please finish the story and…”

“There isn’t much else to say,” whispered Monica. “You know the rest of the story. That night, when I was thrown out of the house, I began looking for a policeman to help me out. Fortunately, as I thought then, a police car was parked right across the street. I ran to them and told them the whole story. They said they would take me to a safe-house for the night and I could file a complaint against my husband the next day.”

“Maybe de same police car ve saw tonight,” said Firooz.

There was a long silence and then Firooz added, “I tink dey phone doze cops to come der every time dey vant to send some girl to de Karaj shelter. I guess dey fool pretty girls and bring dem here to sell to de Arabs.”

There was another lengthy pause before Firooz spoke again, “We are near my place now. I tink you should all come and estay vid me tonight.  I’m sure ve can, togeder, find de best vay out tomorrow!”

























© Copyright 2018 Herman Azadi. All rights reserved.

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