Manipulation
He dug his nails into her back and moaned once more before catching his breath. "You're a wildcat, Nadia," he said.
She rolled off of him and reached out to grab a packet of cigarettes from the nightstand. After she had lit one, she threw herself back down onto the bed.
He extended his left arm over his head and turned to look at her. "How did you get them to release you this time?"
"I didn't," she said, taking a slow drag, "I escaped."
He sat up abruptly. "What?! Then they will be looking for you. You will bring them down on me, on my house!"
"Calm down, Rashad," she said, rising from the bed and swinging her legs over the side. She rested her cigarette in the ash tray while she pulled on a robe. "No one saw me come here. No one ever does." She tied the robe tightly and took up her cigarette again before walking over to a small desk positioned against the bedroom wall.
"Well, then," he said, "how did you escape?"
She pulled open a drawer and began rummaging through it. "I persuaded one of the Republican Guard interrogators to help me." The papers and pens and other objects in the drawer rattled as she continued to rifle through its contents.
"But how?" Rashad asked. "It was not as if you could seduce him. If he had wanted your body he simply could have taken it."
The smoke stretched its gray tendrils through the dank air as she paused in her search in order to take another drag. "Not all men are as shallow as you, Rashad. Some have deeper needs than sex." Finally, she laid hold of what she had been looking for. She drew out a passport and opened it.
"And what did he need?"
"A guilty conscience," said Nadia as she flipped through the booklet, "and an opportunity to atone." She stopped with one slender finger held still on a page. "What is this?" she demanded, and she walked quickly to the bedside. She pointed to the flawed pages, the smeared ink. When she threw passport at him violently, he caught it against his naked chest. "I won't get as far as Turkey with that. Make it look better. Fix it."
Rashad rolled away from her, onto his side, and snuggled his head into the pillow.
"What are you doing? Get up," she ordered. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ash tray. "I don't have much time. Get up and fix this."
He laughed, a low, mocking sound. "I'm in no hurry. I got what I wanted."
He heard her footsteps trail across the floor. Only Nadia could manage to make an angry sound with bare feet. The bedroom door slammed loudly against the wall as it flew open. He heard her rattling around in the kitchen drawers. What was the livid woman looking for now? He laughed again, closed his eyes, and pulled the blankets tightly around himself. A moment later he felt the cold metal of the butcher's knife against his neck. She pushed it in, just enough to draw a small drop of blood. "I said get up and fix it."
"All right," he hissed, and she drew the blade away. He got out of bed and pulled on his pants. He went over to the desk, opened a different drawer, and took out another passport. "That one was just practice anyway. Here's the one you want. And here are the other papers you will need. Official as can be."
"And my brother's? We agreed you'd have papers for him too."
Rashad's face grew ashen. "No one told you?"
"Told me what?"
He swallowed. "Yasir was picked up while you were in prison. They executed him six days ago."
Nadia fell back into a chair. She leaned an elbow on the desk, shielded her eyes, and drew in one sharp, sobbing breath. That was all. Then she stood up. "Who turned on him?" she asked.
Rashad shook his head.
"Who turned on him?" she repeated.
"You have no time for revenge, Nadia. The Republican Guard will be on your trail soon enough."
"Well, I have bought some time at least," she said.
He looked her up and down lecherously. "Ah, my little minx of a magician, tell me that trick as well."
"The Republican Guard interrogator who helped me to escape?"
"Yes," Rashad prodded.
"I left him a love note on the back of my file photo. They will find it on him, and they will suspect he helped me. They will think he knows more than he does. They will think he knows where I am. They will interrogate him for days, and by the time they discover he knows nothing of my whereabouts," she held up her passport and kissed it, "I will be on my way to America."
She crossed the room and removed a garment from the back of an armchair. She took off her robe and instead donned the full hijab.
Rashad chuckled condescendingly. "That thing barely has slits for your eyes.
"Yes, well, sometimes it is convenient to be a woman in this country."
"Of course. When you are trying to flee it. And you had better flee fast. Your Shiite friends want you dead too. They are happy to accept your money, but they are tired of accepting your attitude. I am surprised they have tolerated you this long. But common enemies make strange bedfellows."
Even through the single slit, the disdain in her eyes was visible as she looked at him. "You don't have to tell me that." She turned with a heated flourish, and, in an instant, her all black form had disappeared through the doorframe.
The End