The Undaunted (Book 2 of The Undesirables)

EPILOGUE: The Cellist

Karen stared up at the flickering black and white landscape of tall mesas, endless skies and rolling sand. Hooves thundered down a primitive dirt road, churning clay as magnificent horses drew a stagecoach at full gallop. They suddenly reared at the sound of a gunshot and the driver pulled at their reins.

A man stood in the road, a saddle over one shoulder and a Remington rifle in the opposite hand. He was a big man, but he wore an unthreatening smile under his cockeyed ten-gallon hat. He opened his mouth with the crack of a smile and said – something in Farsi that Karen didn't understand.

Everyone in the movie theater cheered. There was something about John Wayne that made everyone want to cheer. None the less, in the United States little kids might cheer, but not adults. Adults would be too embarrassed, to resigned to give into such childish delight. But this wasn't the United States, this was Iran. And here the entire audience: men, women, children – all cheered instantly at John Wayne's first words.

The theater was packed, standing room only. Karen could feel the pressure of the women around her, women wearing everything from Paris fashions to Red Army uniforms to traditional robes and veils. They strained forward to drink in John Wayne with their eyes before he disappeared from the screen.

The aisles were segregated between men and women to prevent inappropriate contact. Iran was a liberal country, but Muslim none the less, and Karen was glad that she didn't have to worry about getting pinched or groped in the tight press of bodies. And not every woman beside her was a Muslim, or even Iranian. There was a huge contingent of Russians, too, both men and women, all wearing military uniforms, all thankful for the opportunity to see an American western, since foreign films had been banned in their own country.

Tehran had become a national meeting ground for the allied powers. It was the Persian hub of the American lend-lease effort. Guns, tanks, food, blankets and ammunition were shipped in from the Persian Gulf or trucked from the southern British occupation zone before being handed over to Russia in independent Tehran. From here it would travel by rail to the northern Soviet occupation zone and then across the border to Azerbaijan, Baku, Stalingrad, and up the Volga river to wherever Russia needed it most.

The Russian soldiers guarding that route considered themselves lucky to be spending the war in the relative peace of Iran. The fighting in Stalingrad ended when the German 6th Army had finally surrendered in February, but everyone knew there would be more battles just as bloody or worse. So they took advantage of their time in Tehran, and considered the perfect place for unofficial rest and relaxation.

It was also the perfect place to defect. That's why Karen was here. She was a spy. And she'd been sent to Tehran on a mission.

Her target was a high-ranking Soviet bureaucrat. He and his wife were corrupt, skimming military supplies and selling them on the black market. It was his way to build a little nest-egg for when the Germans inevitably won. But now it looked like the Russians might win, and the bureaucrat had gotten nervous. The O.S.S. preyed on that nervousness and convinced him and his family to defect. They offered sanctuary in return for information. He'd agreed, and Dr. Parsons sent Karen to smuggle him out of Tehran.

The plan had been to meet his wife here, in the movie theater. Protected by the crowd and the noise she'd lead Karen to her husband and together they'd make their escape.

But the woman had never shown up. Karen had pushed her way up and down the crowded aisle of the woman's section of the theater, and her contact was nowhere to be found.

When the movie was over a great stream of humanity spilled out into the street. Here there was no gender segregation, here men met back up with their wives or girlfriends and sisters with their brothers. Here they all lingered, discussing the movie and John Wayne and ignoring the horns of blocked automobile traffic. Karen lingered, too, pushing her way through the crowd, searching for either the official or his wife. Her ears were her most useful sensory organs. The crowd prevented her from seeing every face, but as she jostled between the bodies she listened to the conversations and could zero in on anyone speaking Russian. Still, Karen found no one. The woman should have been carrying a program from the Moscow ballet. That was the identifier. But nobody carried anything other than boxes of popcorn.