The Deadliest Strain

Chapter Forty-One

Have you ever flown into Kermanshah Airport?" Austyn asked.

Fahimah shook her head. The pilot in Halabja had told them that the airport was northeast of the city, and that they could easily find a cab to take them to the hospital. It was amazing that Ashraf had been able to manage this flight in such a short period of time. Fahimah knew the rest of arrangements would be up to her. She looked down. They were approaching the airport.

"My only time here was when Rahaf and I were staying in Paveh. On one of the school trips, they brought all the students to Kermanshah to see some of the historical monuments. Some of those sites date back to the Achaemenid and Sassanid eras."

"What was the favorite place that you saw?" he asked as they descended.

"Rahaf and I were both impressed with a place called Tagh-e-Bostan. It was there that one of the Sassanid kings chose to have beautiful reliefs carved into the rock. There is a sacred spring that gushes down from a mountain cliff and empties into a large reflecting pool. We were there in the spring, and the entire place was clouded in mist."

Fahimah closed her eyes for a moment and evoked that image in her mind. She'd replayed that scene so many times when she'd been in prison. She could use some of the discipline she'd exercised during those days now. She wouldn't allow herself to be weepy when she met Rahaf.

"Was there a place you didn't get to see and wanted to?" he asked.

She knew what Austyn was doing. He was trying to keep her mind busy. She smiled at him in appreciation. She'd never imagined that he would be the one she would lean on during this time of sadness.

"I wanted to see Darius the Great's inscription at Behistun. But the site is thirteen hundred meters up into the mountains, and there was no time to go there. That day, Rahaf and I promised each other that someday we'd come back and hike up there."

He reached over and took her hand. "Perhaps someday you will."

Fahimah leaned her head back against the seat as the plane's wheels chirped and settled onto the runway. She wasn't willing to give up hope. She wanted Austyn to be right.

The plane taxied toward the terminal. They were the only passengers. She had no clue what kind of customs or immigration restrictions they would face. The documents Matt had collected for her would have been good enough if they'd crossed the border at Halabja, but she had no passport. She hoped it was the same thing at the airport. Much more so than herself, she was worried about Austyn. She didn't want to imagine what the complications could be if they decided his passport was fake and that he was an American agent.

She began to hyperventilate just thinking about it.

The plane came to a stop near one of the doors. She looked out the window at the long building of sand-colored stone and glass as they unbuckled their seat belts.

"Please let me do the talking," she told him.

"Fin not nervous. You shouldn't be, either. Not about me, I mean."

Fahimah looked at his unshaven face, the kind blue eyes. It scared her how attached she was beginning to feel toward him. It was terrifying.

"Let's go," she said quietly. Ashraf had given her a shawl in Halabja, and she now draped it over her head. The pilot had the door open for them. There were no formalities. They each only carried a duffel bag. He pointed out the door they had to walk to.

An Iranian policeman opened the door for them as they reached it.

"Khosh arnadeen," he told them.

She was about to tell Austyn that the man was welcoming them.

"Motashaker." Austyn replied to the officer.

Fahimah looked at him, surprised. The policeman directed them toward the line where they had to go. Inside, the terminal area was crowded with people. She hadn't realized until the pilot had mentioned it that flights from all the major cities in Iran came into this airport.

Other policemen were standing around, but the line moved freely. There was no checking of passports. The realization came to her suddenly.

"This is not an international airport," she whispered to him. She didn't have to say more, and he understood.

He looked straight ahead and she followed his gaze. People ahead of them were leaving the terminal through double doors.

Fahimah was relieved. Luck was on their side. She couldn't believe that arriving in Iran could be as easy as walking out on the street and getting a cab to the hospital.

"Now, don't look at anyone, especially the policemen," she told him. "Please don't act like a tourist."

"Baleh, Dr. Banaz."

She sent him a quick look. He'd been practicing a few Far si words.

"If anyone asks anything, don't answer. I will do the talking."

"Is my accent terrible?" he asked, smiling.

"Dreadful," she whispered back. He was still smiling, so Fahimah figured she hadn't hurt his feelings too badly.

The line of people was moving. Straight ahead, she could see the doors leading into the brightness of outside.

She was wearing a raincoat that reached her knees. Ashraf had told her that the coat and the shawl she'd used to cover her hair served as what was called a ropoosh in Iran. In the pocket of the raincoat, Ashraf had given her some toman. Fahimah needed to use that money for the cab ride to the hospital.

They were close enough to the door that she could see the line of cars waiting by the curb.

"Dr. Banaz."

Fahimah practically jumped out of her skin. She turned to the man who'd called her name. One of the policemen was moving across the floor toward her. She should have known things wouldn't go this smoothly.

"Baleh." She nodded.

"Ba man biah," he told her flatly, and started moving away.

"He wants me to go with him," she told Austyn quickly. "You go to the hospital, and I'll meet you there."

"No, I'm coming with you," he said under his breath.

"You are not," she stressed. "You must bring no attention to yourself, remember?"

"I'm not leaving you here alone with them."

"This is no time for chivalry."

Realizing she was not following him, the policeman stopped and threw his hands up in the air.

"Doe tatoon beyayeen." he said impatiently.

"He wants both of us to go with him," she said to him, defeated.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Fahimah was angry. He'd had a chance to get out of here. Now they would be subjected to scrutiny, especially Austyn. He didn't look like an Argentinean. Not that she knew anyone from Argentina. But they'd know he was American and then…

"Dr. Banaz," someone called from behind her. It was Austyn.

Fahimah hadn't realized it, but while she was arguing with herself, she hadn't watched where she was going. She turned around. Austyn was standing next to the policeman. They were chatting about something and both were smiling. So much for not saying anything.

"Een dar." the policeman said when she started walking toward them.

"This door," Austyn translated for her, motioning to a door leading out.

She could have hit him.

The policeman opened the door and motioned to a van with the hospital's name on the side.

"Have a good stay," the policeman said in English, shaking Austyn's hand.

The two of them went out. The driver of the van came around and opened the door for them. On the way to the hospital, Fahimah turned to Austyn.

"What were you telling that policeman?"

"Nothing important."

"You two were talking and seemed to be enjoying yourselves."

"I just told him a couple of jokes "