A Bitter Veil Read Online Free PDF Page A

was strengthening. Hassan encouraged Nouri to get involved.
    “You are in the belly of the beast,” he wrote. “If you can convince the American people to join our cause, their leaders will not be far behind.”
    Nouri took Hassan’s letter into the bedroom.
    Anna looked up from her book. “What is it?” Was her voice sharper than usual or was it just his imagination?
    He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers gently through her hair.
    She put the book down and her body went slack. She seemed tired, but she was still ready for him. He swung his legs up on the bed and lay down.
    “I’ve had another letter from Hassan.”
    “Oh?”
    “Opposition to the shah is building. People are organizing. Speaking out.”
    “What opposition?”
    He propped himself up on his elbow. “Lawyers, judges, university professors. Professional groups like the National Front, the IFM, and—”
    “The who?”
    “The Iran Freedom Movement. Anna, the revolutionary spirit is spreading. People are writing open letters demanding the restoration of the constitution. For the first time I think there is a real chance we might get rid of the shah.”
    She ran her fingers up his arm, letting them sweep across his skin.
    “You miss being there, don’t you?”
    He nodded. “I have been lucky to lead a privileged life when there are many who do not. But America could do so much, if people just understood how evil the shah is.”
    “But you’re supposed to be here to study. What about your thesis?”
    Nouri waved a hand. “Sometimes there are more important matters than academics.”
    Anna’s eyebrows arched. “Your family has prospered under the shah. Your father supports him. They socialize together. What are they going to say?”
    “The oil industry will do well no matter who’s in power. And my father’s support is one of convenience. Believe me, he wasn’t happy when the shah declared war on profiteers and exiled those industrialists. You should have heard him.”
    “But you’re just a student. What can you really do?”
    “How can you say that, Anna? You know how powerful a student movement can be.”
    “That’s true.” She sighed. “Looking back, though, I’m sure we believed we were more powerful than we really were.”
    “That is not the case for us. The Iranian Students Association has a chapter in Chicago. I’m going to a meeting.”
    Anna dropped her hand from his arm. She frowned slightly, as if she wanted to say something.
    “What, Anna?”
    She hesitated, then looked down at her book. “Nothing.” She pressed her lips together.
     

Six
     
    By the time winter settled in Nouri had attended several meetings. They were held in one of two Iranian students’ apartments near UIC. About ten people usually showed up, mostly men, although two women dropped in occasionally.
    Nouri learned that there was a vast network of Iranian student organizations in the US. Several years previously, though, the movement had splintered. Many of the Islamists broke away, leaving moderates and Marxists to vie for control. All three factions wanted the shah gone, but apart from that, their agendas were quite different. The Marxists gradually overpowered the moderates on some campuses, but internal tensions still ran high. As a moderate, Nouri sensed the others didn’t fully accept, or trust, him. And when, one night, he mentioned the short window of democracy that Mosaddeq opened twenty-five years before, one of the students challenged him.
    “What makes you think whoever replaces the shah will improve the lot of our people?” he asked in a strident voice.
    “Because, hopefully, the people will elect a leader who is committed to doing just that,” Nouri replied. “Iran must become democratic again.”
    The other student started to reply, but Massoud, their leader, cut in. “Internal squabbles will not help our cause. We have the opportunity to make a significant impact on US perceptions, perhaps even policy. But first we