Chapter 39

Jack was in his car, halfway home from Zahra’s town house, when Andie called.

“Jack, um. Change of plans.”

He stopped at the red light. The “um” gave him pause. Andie was not one for filler words. Self-assuredness was one of the

things he found so attractive about her.

“You’re not going to the house?”

“No. Um...”

There it was again. “Andie, what’s going on?”

“I got called in to the field office. It’s better if you come here. You need to speak to Agent Logan, not me.”

A metallic blue sports car pulled up beside him at the red light. The music was so loud that Jack’s head started pounding.

“Andie, I asked to meet at home because I need to talk to my wife in absolute privacy. Your response is that I should meet

with the FBI?”

“Except you’re not reaching out to me as your wife . Agent Logan told me what happened at Zahra’s town house. You think the FBI is up to something sneaky, and you’re putting

me in the middle. Just because we ditched the rule against talking about our work, that doesn’t mean you can use me to your

strategic advantage against the FBI. That’s not fair, Jack.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he said, but she wasn’t totally off the mark. “I’m sorry. I understand how you could see it that

way.”

“So, you’ll come downtown?”

“Yes. You’re off the hook. Tell Logan I’m on my way.”

The call ended. The sports car beside Jack made a right on red, and a sedan pulled forward in the lane. Jack did a double take. It was Farid. He signaled for Jack to roll down the passenger-side window, which he did.

“Talk?” he asked, pointing to the coffee shop across the street.

Apparently, Jack wasn’t the only one who had been sitting in his car outside Zahra’s town house to watch law enforcement’s

next move.

“Sure,” Jack shouted back, and when the light changed, he followed Farid into the parking lot. They climbed out of their cars,

but Jack had to make something clear before they entered the coffee shop.

“We’re in a gray area,” said Jack. “If you and Zahra were still in litigation, the rules of professional conduct would prohibit

me from speaking directly to the adverse party without his counsel. My position is that the case is over.”

“Over or not, I have no lawyer,” said Farid.

“I just spoke to her,” said Jack. “She was talking to the police on your behalf.”

“I fired Ms. Beech. Not that it matters. You might say I never had a lawyer.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Come,” he said as he opened the door. “I’m buying.”

Jack followed him inside. They ordered two cups at the counter and took a table away from other customers, where they could

talk in private.

“Ms. Beech and I had many disagreements,” said Farid. “Mostly about case strategy. I think she felt free to ignore my views

because I wasn’t paying her legal bills.”

Jack couldn’t hide his surprise. “She did all that work without getting paid?”

“No, I said I didn’t pay her. She got paid top dollar—by the Iranian government.”

“Just so you know, it’s not unusual in this country for a lawyer to represent a client whose legal bills are paid by a third party. It could be a parent. An employer. An insurance company. I once represented a college professor whose students raised money for her defense. But even where someone else pays the bills, the client makes the decisions. Not the person paying the bills.”

“That’s nice in theory,” said Farid. “But in this case, I wasn’t the one calling the shots. I would never have told my lawyer

to present a fake custody order to the family-court judge.”

Jack was in the middle of a sip and nearly coughed through his nose. Zahra had told Jack the order was a fake. And now Farid

had confirmed it.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Jack cleared his throat. “You understand that anything you tell me, I can use against you. I could go to the judge, tell her

what you just told me, and ask her to vacate her judgment enforcing the Iranian order.”

“I won’t repeat any of this publicly,” said Farid. “If you go to the court with this information, I will have to deny this

conversation ever happened. And how far will you get with the judge when even the US State Department says the Iranian order

is authentic?”

Jack couldn’t argue with Farid on that point. But it was still a lot to swallow. “Did Heather Beech know the Iranian order

was a fake? A lawyer should never knowingly put on false evidence.”

“ You did,” said Farid. “When you painted me as an abuser. None of that happened.”

Jack looked him straight in the eye from across the table. He feared Farid could be playing him, setting him up for a complaint

to the Florida Bar—or worse.

“Is that your angle here, Farid? Are you trying to get me to say something that sounds like an admission that the evidence

against you was false? Are you recording this conversation on your cell phone and planning to make strategic edits before

you send it to the FBI or the State Department?”

“You are a very suspicious man, Mr. Swyteck.”

“Why did you come to me, Farid?”

“I tried to get through to you before. I went to your friend’s bar. I spoke to your wife.”

Jack knew about the visit to Cy’s Place, where Farid had denied all allegations of abuse, and Theo had come away “not sure he’s lying.” He didn’t know about the meeting with Andie—but that was between him and his wife, along with so many other things.

“You have my ear now,” said Jack. “Talk to me.”

Farid looked off to the middle distance for a moment, then back at Jack. “If I take Yasmin back to Iran, it is not my daughter

who is in grave danger of physical harm. It’s me.”

“Excuse me?”

“The regime was very unhappy with me when I filed this petition under the Hague Convention. You know why.”

Jack did, but he said it anyway. “Because it would reopen questions about Ava’s disappearance.”

“Yes, obviously. That is why they hired a new lawyer for me. Ms. Beech hijacked the case.”

“Well, hold on,” said Jack. “I’d hardly say she was trying to lose the case for you. She almost won the Hague proceeding.

And she did win the custody case.”

“True. But make no mistake: job one was to prove that Ava Bazzi is still alive. Proving the Iranian government right was the

most important thing. Yasmin and I were secondary.”

“That’s a very serious accusation for a client to make against his lawyer.”

“Do you have any idea the sums of money the Iranian government must have paid her? Ms. Beech is not the first lawyer in America

to serve two masters and answer to the bigger bank account.”

More than a few examples came to Jack’s mind. “To be honest, I did wonder how much control you had over the case when Nouri

Asmoun took the stand.”

“Exactly,” said Farid. “I would never have called a witness to lie about an affair he claims he had with Ava.”

“How do you know he was lying?”

Farid exhaled sharply. “I didn’t flag you down on the street to talk about that nonsense.”

“Then what is this about?” asked Jack.

“I’ve run out of people I can bargain with.”

“Bargain for what?”

Farid paused, which only added import to his words. “Ava wanted Yasmin to grow up in the West. I would like to honor her wish.”

Jack’s first instinct was to laugh out loud, but Farid’s expression was deadly serious. He was either still in love with Ava

or a manipulative and sociopathic abuser.

“Then leave Yasmin here in the United States with Zahra.”

“No. Not with Zahra.”

“I’m sorry, Farid. I can’t put your wishes ahead of my own client’s best interests.”

Farid took a deep breath, then let it out. It did nothing to quell his anger.

“I’m beyond disappointed,” said Farid. “But now I understand how you and Agent Henning stay married. You two deserve each

other. I shouldn’t have wasted my time on either one of you.”

He rose and walked away, leaving Jack alone at the table. Jack didn’t go after him. His mind was awhirl. If Farid was telling

the truth, Jack had been right all along: the Iranian government, not Farid, was calling the shots, and the US government

was spreading the same narrative for diplomatic reasons. But being “right” led to the wrong result: there was no defense under

the Hague Convention for what Zahra had done.

Jack didn’t appreciate Farid’s take on his marriage—that he and Andie “deserved each other.” But maybe they could help each

other. And help Yasmin.

He grabbed his phone and texted Andie. “Slight delay. On my way now.”