Twenty-Nine Cozy Bears

17

"He was a perfect Stranger who wanted to be known less by everyone."

It was as plush inside the RV as the man feared it might be from the estimate he made based on the eloquence he noted on the outside. That felt like an odd word to use for describing a bus -- eloquence -- but he had never seen a bus with plush carpeting. In fact he had never seen carpeting in a bus before unless someone was lugging a roll home.

There was nothing gawdy. Nothing over the top. In fact, understated would have been more accurate. But understated in the way only true wealth and expense could manage.

Alek introduced their hosts with a familiar and pleasant grace. The three women, Sara, Narges, and Leyla; were to be escorts for their entire stay. The man coughed into his fist at this news. He was certain that this was not one of the "false friend" words, but the women didn't flinch when introduced, so he just nodded and continued listening.

The two guards, the ones holding serious weapons made by H&K — he couldn't get a clear view but they were definitely some version of the MP5 —preferred not to be causal with their identity. The man could hardly find fault in that preference.

Guards, two most of the time, would be assigned to them each day, but may not be the same men or even from the same unit. Again, that didn't feel odd. A worthy precaution.

Also, the manner in which he was informed didn't suggest that funding was low, and there might be only one of them, or none — if it is quiet. No. No, the eyes, the cold still hands, the timbre of the voice suggested that on some days there might be a dozen walking around with them.

Sara, Sara Jamshidi, looked much the same, on first encounter, as her two workmates appeared. Their hair, and necks had the covering of the hijab. They wore uniforms rendered from the chador garment many of the women on the streets adopted. Theirs however, had been tailored and his trained eyes noted that for a choice of battle fatigues, these were comfortable looking and easy to move around in. Their rank patches were sewn four inches above their left cuff on the sleeve. They carried firearms on their sides, and he noted a couple of items were secreted under the loose fitting black chador.

"You are special forces, then?" he asked in Persian.

"We are," Sara agreed, "but not all of us. We, us three, are attached to the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps more directly," she explained.

"How directly?" he asked, not getting the explanation.

She flashed a shy grin which dissolved as the corners of her full lips made motion to curl, vanishing the way sunlight digests the mist, waning into a neutral expression of calm satisfaction, "Directly."

He nodded his head and let them have their secrets. He already had files on all three of them. The others, that she hinted at, were all attached to the Basij. These three aligned closer to Quds Forces. That was where the Cyber Security office was sheltered.

"Are we still going with the University, as cover?" he asked.

"Is that alright?"

"It's perfect," he said, beginning to lean back in his chair, then he sat forward with a jolt, "You can't change it, can you?" his voice low, on the edge of desperate. His right hand reaching slightly, awkwardly toward her. The whisper of a tremble in his splayed fingers.

Sara brought her hands to her face, perhaps to cover her lips, "No," she said with a helpless pull on the vowel, drawing it out, pulling it, as if stretching it to cover him.

But then he said, "Oh. Then, it is perfect," and his calm settled back down around him like a artic blue aura, reinstating itself with the next beat of his heart. Leaning back again he said, "good," and closed his eyes.

The ride wasn't long.

"I'm embarrassed but I didn't catch your name when Alek introduced us," she said, her voice careful, appeasing.

"Don't be embarrassed. It happens to everyone." he said, careful to keep his voice neutral and all of his mirth behind his closed eyes.