The acrid smell of burning rubber pierced through the humid

night air as Leila Bakhtiari's weathered Peugeot 405 screeched

around a corner, tires protesting the worn asphalt of Tehran's

back alleys. Her knuckles were white against the steering

wheel, eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the

labyrinthine path ahead. The distant wail of sirens grew

louder, a discordant symphony accompanying the frantic

beating of her heart.