The Templar Salvation (2010) Read Online Free
outside the university was winding down from its daily bustle.
“I’m sorry, have we—”
“No, we haven’t met,” the stranger confirmed as he extended an inviting arm out, shepherding the professor to the passenger car door he’d just opened for him.
Behrouz stopped, tense with a sudden, crippling unease. Being in Istanbul had been, up to that very instant, a liberating experience. With each passing day, the looking-over-your-shoulder, worrying-about-what-you-said tensions of daily life as a Sufi professor at Tehran University had withered away. Far from the political struggles that were strangling academia in Iran, the forty-seven-year-old historian had been enjoying his new life in a country that was less insular and less dangerous, a country that was hoping to join the European Union. A stranger in a dark suit inviting him to take a ride had obliterated that little pipe dream in a heartbeat.
The professor raised his hands, open-palmed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are and this—”
Again, the stranger interrupted him with the same courteous, non-threatening tone. “Please, Professor. I apologize for this rather sudden approach, but I do need to have a word with you. It’s about your wife and your daughter. They could be in danger.”
Behrouz felt twin spikes of fear and anger inside him. “My wife and—What about them? What are you talking about?”
“Please,” the man said without a trace of alarm in his voice. “Everything will be fine. But we really need to talk.”
Behrouz glanced left and right, not quite able to focus. Apart from the bloodcurdling conversation he was having, everything else seemed normal. A normality that, he knew, would be banished from his life from here on.
He climbed into the car. Even though it was a new, top-of-the-line BMW, it had an odd, unpleasant smell that immediately pricked his nostrils. He couldn’t quite place it as the stranger got in behind the wheel and pulled out into the sparse traffic.
Behrouz couldn’t contain himself. “What’s happened? What do you mean, they might be in danger? What kind of danger?”
The stranger kept his gaze straight. “Actually, it’s not just them. It’s all three of you.”
The even, unflustered way he said it made it sound even more unnerving.
The stranger slid a sideways glance at him. “It has to do with your work. Or more specifically, with something you recently found.”
“Something I found?” Behrouz’s mind skidded for a beat, then latched onto what the man meant. “The letter?”
The stranger nodded. “You’ve been trying to understand what it refers to, but so far, without success.”
It was a statement, not a question, and said with a firm assurance that made it all the more ominous. The stranger not only knew about it, he seemed to know about the walls Behrouz was hitting in his research.
Behrouz fidgeted with his glasses. “How do you know about that?”
“Please, Professor. I make it my business to know everything about anything that piques my curiosity. And your find has piqued my curiosity. A lot. And in the same way that you’re meticulous about your work and your research—admirably so, I must add—I’m just as meticulous about mine. Some might even say fanatical. So, yes, I know about what you’ve been doing. Where you’ve been. Who you’ve spoken to. I know what you’ve been able to deduce, and what still eludes you. And I know a lot more. Peripheral things. Things like Miss Deborah being your little Farnaz’s favorite teacher at school. Like knowing your wife’s prepared you some gheimeh bademjan for dinner.” He paused, then added, “Which is really sweet of her, given that you only asked her for it last night. But then, she was in a vulnerable position, wasn’t she?”
Behrouz felt the last vestiges of life drain from his face as panic flooded through him. How can he—He’s watching us, listening to us? In our bedroom? It took him a moment to regain
“I’m sorry, have we—”
“No, we haven’t met,” the stranger confirmed as he extended an inviting arm out, shepherding the professor to the passenger car door he’d just opened for him.
Behrouz stopped, tense with a sudden, crippling unease. Being in Istanbul had been, up to that very instant, a liberating experience. With each passing day, the looking-over-your-shoulder, worrying-about-what-you-said tensions of daily life as a Sufi professor at Tehran University had withered away. Far from the political struggles that were strangling academia in Iran, the forty-seven-year-old historian had been enjoying his new life in a country that was less insular and less dangerous, a country that was hoping to join the European Union. A stranger in a dark suit inviting him to take a ride had obliterated that little pipe dream in a heartbeat.
The professor raised his hands, open-palmed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are and this—”
Again, the stranger interrupted him with the same courteous, non-threatening tone. “Please, Professor. I apologize for this rather sudden approach, but I do need to have a word with you. It’s about your wife and your daughter. They could be in danger.”
Behrouz felt twin spikes of fear and anger inside him. “My wife and—What about them? What are you talking about?”
“Please,” the man said without a trace of alarm in his voice. “Everything will be fine. But we really need to talk.”
Behrouz glanced left and right, not quite able to focus. Apart from the bloodcurdling conversation he was having, everything else seemed normal. A normality that, he knew, would be banished from his life from here on.
He climbed into the car. Even though it was a new, top-of-the-line BMW, it had an odd, unpleasant smell that immediately pricked his nostrils. He couldn’t quite place it as the stranger got in behind the wheel and pulled out into the sparse traffic.
Behrouz couldn’t contain himself. “What’s happened? What do you mean, they might be in danger? What kind of danger?”
The stranger kept his gaze straight. “Actually, it’s not just them. It’s all three of you.”
The even, unflustered way he said it made it sound even more unnerving.
The stranger slid a sideways glance at him. “It has to do with your work. Or more specifically, with something you recently found.”
“Something I found?” Behrouz’s mind skidded for a beat, then latched onto what the man meant. “The letter?”
The stranger nodded. “You’ve been trying to understand what it refers to, but so far, without success.”
It was a statement, not a question, and said with a firm assurance that made it all the more ominous. The stranger not only knew about it, he seemed to know about the walls Behrouz was hitting in his research.
Behrouz fidgeted with his glasses. “How do you know about that?”
“Please, Professor. I make it my business to know everything about anything that piques my curiosity. And your find has piqued my curiosity. A lot. And in the same way that you’re meticulous about your work and your research—admirably so, I must add—I’m just as meticulous about mine. Some might even say fanatical. So, yes, I know about what you’ve been doing. Where you’ve been. Who you’ve spoken to. I know what you’ve been able to deduce, and what still eludes you. And I know a lot more. Peripheral things. Things like Miss Deborah being your little Farnaz’s favorite teacher at school. Like knowing your wife’s prepared you some gheimeh bademjan for dinner.” He paused, then added, “Which is really sweet of her, given that you only asked her for it last night. But then, she was in a vulnerable position, wasn’t she?”
Behrouz felt the last vestiges of life drain from his face as panic flooded through him. How can he—He’s watching us, listening to us? In our bedroom? It took him a moment to regain
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