Page 23 of Grave Danger
“Perhaps to curry sympathy with the judge by showing that Ava Bazzi abandoned her husband and their daughter. Perhaps to curry the support of the Iranian government by taking a position that is consistent with the official position of the Iranian regime.”
“Or maybe the Iranian government is forcing Farid to take that position,” said Andie. “Especially in light of today’s protests.”
“Whatever the reason, this case is on a fast track to becoming a flashpoint in US-Iranian relations,” said Davis.
Andie could see where the conversation was leading, and she wasn’t comfortable with it. “Have you made that clear to Jack?”
“Yes. To no avail. We thought it would help if he heard it from you.”
The response caught in Andie’s throat. “I can’t tell Jack how to handle his case.”
“We understand,” said Davis. “And this is not an order. We simply ask that you communicate a message to your husband.”
“What message?” she asked with trepidation.
“One, no one willeverbe able to prove that Tehran’s morality police murdered Ava Bazzi. Two, by trying to prove the unprovable, he’s only hindering the US government’s ability to negotiate.”
“Again, I have to ask: Negotiate for what?”
Tidwell spoke up. “Henning, you’re not even close to having the level of clearance needed to hear the answer to that question.”
The State Department officials seemed put off by the ASAC’s ham-handed approach. Davis rephrased it. “Agent Henning, we can assure you of this much: for the sake of your country, it is critically important that you communicate our message to your husband.”
Never in her tenure with the bureau had the US government asked Andie to communicate with Jack about an active case. But if it was true that Jack had actually hung up on the State Department, telling them that now was not a particularly good time wasn’t going to help matters.
“I’ll give it serious consideration,” she said, committing to nothing.
It was after 10:00 p.m., and Jack was still in his office with Zahra.
The mini trial on the threshold issue in the case—the legitimacy of Zahra’s marriage to Farid—was less than twelve hours away. They were short on time to prepare. Jack was even shorter on time to provide Zahra with the needed assurance that the American system of justice wasn’t stacked in favor of men—at least not to the extent of the Iranian system.
“Do you think the judge will let the imam testify about things I told him in private?” she asked.
“He shouldn’t,” said Jack. “I made it clear this morning that we will assert the ecclesiastical privilege.”
“I didn’t ask if heshouldprotect my confidences. I’m asking if you think hewill.”
It was a fair question—whether a cranky old federal judge who’d never set foot in a mosque might decide that confidences were somehow entitled to less protection because the religion was something other than his own.
“My expectation is that Judge Carlton will do the right thing,” said Jack. “But in case I’m wrong, let me ask you this: Is there anything you told the imam that worries you?”
Zahra took a moment. The moment turned into a minute. The minute dragged on.
“Not that I can think of,” she said finally.
Jack arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
There was another pause. “Yes.”
“When I was at your house the other night, you indicated that you married Farid to protect Yasmin.”
“Is that what you heard me say?” asked Zahra. “You may have misunderstood.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” said Jack, absolutely certain that he hadn’t.
“Whatever you may have heard, all I meant is that I married Farid because a little girl needs a mother. Is that fraud? Is that a marriage under false pretenses? I don’t think so. Do you?”
Jack knew spin when he heard it. “Zahra, it’s late, so let’s take the shine off the penny. Between lawyer and client: If I asked you whether you made the decision to abduct Yasmin and leave Iran before you even married Farid, what would your answer be?”