Then They Came for Me_ A Family's Story of Love, Captivity, and Survival - Maziar Bahari [124]
I also told them that I’d be willing to spy on my friends for the Revolutionary Guards.
“You’re friends with Masoud Behnoud, aren’t you, Mazi?” Rosewater asked, referring to a well-known Iranian journalist who lives in exile in London. “If we give you an eavesdropping device, will you be able to plant it in his house?”
“No problem,” I answered. In speaking with Rosewater, I described how Masoud lived in a grand luxury house in central London, though, in fact, he lived in a modest, two-bedroom flat in a suburb. They thought that Masoud was spying for MI6 and that he was a wealthy man, and I happily went along with their narrative. “I can put the device under his desk, and I might even be able to download his computer files,” I said.
“Ahsant! Bravo!” said Rosewater.
To secure my release, Rosewater explained, I would have to post bail in the amount of three billion rials ($300,000). I didn’t have that much cash, of course, but told him that I could register my mother’s apartment as the deposit.
“If you ever make the mistake of not returning to Iran,” Rosewater warned me, “the first thing we’ll do is kick your mother out of that apartment and throw all your tapes and books into the street.”
It was another attempt to manipulate and scare me, but it wasn’t going to work. I knew my mother would rather get kicked out of her home than have me endure even one more day in prison, and even if she were evicted, I would be free, and able to enlist the help of our friends and relatives in finding her a new place; plus, it sounded like an empty threat. From their constant emphasis on the bail, I knew that they didn’t believe that I was going to spy for them. I guessed it was just protocol that in order to be released, prisoners had to sign a letter saying that they were going to spy for the regime; it was a way for the Revolutionary Guards to save face. I had no way of knowing if my guess was correct, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to be released.
· · ·
As I prepared for my release—never knowing the exact date when it would occur—I was allowed to call my mother every day. She told me that she and Mohammad had started the legal procedure to register the deed to my mother’s house to be used for my bail. She also told me that Paola had been admitted to the hospital three times. She had been diagnosed with placenta previa, a condition in which the placenta attaches to the uterus so low down that it borders on or covers the cervix. It had resulted in heavy bleeding, which was dangerous for Paola and the baby. My mother and Mohammad reassured me that the hospitalizations were only a preventive measure, but the news still devastated me.
As my cellmates chatted and shared stories, I tried to keep myself busy by exercising. But I was consumed with worry for Paola. I began to imagine the worst, to the extent that, at times, I actually longed to be back in solitary confinement, where I could cry freely without bothering anyone.
Though being in Evin had been a very emotional experience, I generally don’t like to show my emotions. My stoicism bothered Rosewater to the last day. My conversations with my family were recorded, and Rosewater didn’t try to hide the fact that he’d been listening to them.
“How’s Paola?” he asked. It was Friday, October 16. By then all the legal steps regarding my bail had been completed, and I was ready to be released. “I hope she and the baby will survive this.”
I knew he wanted to purposely raise doubts in my mind about Paola’s health. Using a man’s wife and child to put pressure on him was pushing the moral boundaries to the limit, even for an interrogator working for the Islamic Republic. But nothing about Rosewater surprised me anymore.
“I’m sure they’ll survive, sir,” I said quietly.
“You’re so cold, Maziar,” he remarked. “We’re talking about your wife’s and your baby’s lives here.”
“They’ll be fine,” I said firmly, while burning inside. “I’m not worried about them.”
“But what your family is telling you about the bleeding and everything isn’t very reassuring.”
“They’ll be fine, sir.”
Rosewater