The Twelfth Imam Read Online Free Page B

Charlie?” Dr. Shirazi asked, looking at the bloodstains on his shirt and pants.
    “I must speak to you privately,” Charlie blurted out.
    The office phone started ringing.
    “Yes, of course. Is this blood? What happened?”
    Charlie shook his head and lowered his voice, hoping neither the receptionist nor the old man in the waiting room would be able to hear him, though he couldn’t help but notice the receptionist’s intensifying curiosity. The phone kept ringing.
    “It’s not me, Dr. Shirazi. It’s Claire.”
    “What’s wrong? Where is she?”
    “She’s in the car, right outside,” Charlie whispered. “Could you come for a moment and take a look at her?”
    Dr. Shirazi readily agreed, telling his receptionist to go ahead and answer the phone and take a message, and he would be right back. She finally picked up the phone as the two men moved quickly to the door.
    A moment later, Charlie watched the horrified expression on Dr. Shirazi’s face as he opened the side door of the VW bus and found Claire soaked in blood.
    Charlie quickly explained what had happened.
    “We need to get Claire to the hospital,” the doctor said.
    “No,” Charlie said. “That’s not possible.”
    “You have no choice,” Dr. Shirazi said.
    “Haven’t you been watching the coverage of the embassy this morning?”
    “No,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “I’ve been with patients all morning.”
    “The embassy has been overrun. The staff is being held hostage. Some may have been killed. The rest of us are being hunted.”
    Shirazi’s face paled. “I’m so sorry, Charlie. I had no idea. But your wife needs a blood transfusion or she’s going to die. She needs an ob-gyn. That’s not my specialty. I can’t help her.”
    “You have to,” Charlie insisted. “And then we’re leaving the country.”
    “That’s impossible. Even if you could get through security at the airport, your wife would never survive the flight.”
    “Please, Dr. Shirazi, I need you to take care of her—privately, without anyone knowing. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
    “Charlie, you don’t understand. I’m a cardiologist. Your wife has a dying child in her womb. She is dying too. I can’t—”
    Charlie grabbed the man by his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. “Dr. Shirazi, listen to me. I love your country. You know I do. It was once a paradise. But something evil has happened, something neither of us understands. I’m telling you, if Claire and I are caught by this regime, they will try us, and they will kill us on statewide television for the whole country and the whole world to see. That’s not going to happen. I don’t care about myself. But so help me God, I will never let one of them lay so much as a finger on Claire. Now please, I’m begging you as my friend, help me. I don’t have anywhere else to turn.”

5
    The two men stared into each other’s eyes.
    “You’re right,” the doctor finally conceded. “I’m sorry. You and Claire deserve better. So does your country. This is not the Iran I grew up in. I don’t even recognize this place anymore.”
    The back door burst open. It was the receptionist, calling for her boss.
    “I asked you to hold my calls,” Dr. Shirazi replied.
    “Yes, sir, but it’s your wife, sir. She says it’s urgent.”
    Charlie saw the conflict in his friend’s eyes. “Go,” he said. “Take the call.”
    Charlie was fast losing hope, but what else could he say? He sensed a measure of warmth and compassion in Dr. Shirazi that he deeply appreciated. The doctor seemed genuinely to want to help him. Time was running out, but Charlie didn’t want to do anything that would make his friend upset.
    A moment later, Dr. Shirazi came back to the VW. “Nasreen has been watching events on television. She says you’re right. You can’t go to a hospital. She says I should bring you there.”
    “There?” Charlie asked, perplexed. “Where’s there ?”
    “The embassy.”
    Charlie