"i i didn't fly the last leg, i wasn't in her," lochart said, trying to get his mind working and also keeping his voice down, for the walls of the trailer were very thin. "they left me at dez dam. i backpac "
"dez dam? what the hell you doing there? who left you?"
lochart hesitated. everything was happening so fast. "i don't know if i should... should say beca "
"for christ's sake, they're onto hbc, we've got to do something fast. who was flying her, who was aboard?"
"all iranians evacuating iran all air force from isfahan general seladi, eight colonels and majors from isfahan i don't know their names and general valik, his wife and..." lochart could hardly bring himself to say it, "and his two children."
rudi was appalled. he had heard about annoush and the two kids and he had met valik several times. "that's terrible, terrible. what the helltm i going to say?"
"what? about what?"
the words tumbled out, "major qazani and hushang, they arrived barely half an hour ago the major's just gone but i've been ordered to find out if hbc's s-g, where she was based, and who was aboard. i've been ordered to call kowiss and find out and hushang's going to be listening in and he's no fool, no fool, and he was sure he saw the s-g decal before he blew her to pieces. kowisstll have to say she was our bird, and they'll call tehran and that's the end."
lochart sat on one of the built-in bunks. numb. "i warned them i warned them to wait for nightfall! what the hell am i going to do?"
"run for it. maybe y " a knock on the door and they froze.
"skipper, it's me, fowler. i brought you some tea, thought tom could use some."
"thanks, just a moment, fowler," he said, then dropped his voice. "tom, what's your story do you have one?"
"best i could do was i'm just coming back from a hiking holiday in luristan, south of kermanshah. i got caught in a village by a snowfall for about a week and eventually just hiked out."
"that's good. where's your base?"
lochart shrugged. "zagros."
"good. anyone ask for your id yet?"
"yes. the ticket seller at ahwaz and some green bands."
"scheisse!" rudi bleakly opened the door.
fowler loines brought the tea tray in. "how you doing, tom?" he said with his toothless beam.
"good to see you, fowler. still cursing?"
"not as bad as effer jordon. how is my old mate?"
tiredness enveloped lochart and he leaned back against the wall. zagros and effer jordon, rodrigues, jean-luc, scot gavallan, and the others seemed
so far away. "still wearing his hat," he said with a great effort, accepted the tea gratefully, and swallowed it. hot, thick, heavy, with sweet condensed milk the greatest pick-me-up in the world. what did rudi say? run for it? i can't, he thought as sleep took him. not without sharazad...
rudi finished telling fowler lochart's cover story. "spread the word."
the mechanic blinked. "a hiking holiday? tom lochart? on his bleeding tod? with you know who in bleeding tehran? are you looped, rudi, old cock?"
rudi looked at him.
"just as you say, old sport." fowler turned to talk to lochart but he was already asleep, his face sagged with exhaustion. "cor! he's..." his shrewd blue eyes, set deep in the gnarled face, looked back at rudi. "i'll spread the word like it was bleeding genesis itself." he left.
just before the door closed rudi caught a glimpse of hushang waiting by the trailer and he was sorry he had left him alone so long. he glanced at lochart. poor old tom. what the hell was he doing in isfahan? god in heaven what a mess! what the hell do i do now? carefully he took the cup out of lochart's hands, but the canadian awoke startled.
for a moment lochart did not know whether he was awake or in dream. his heart was pounding, he had a blinding headache, and he was back at the dam at the water's edge, rudi standing against the light just like ali, lochart not knowing whether to dive at him or risk the water, wanting to shout, don't shoot don't shoot...
"christ, i thought you were ali," he gasped. "sorry, i'm all right now. no sweat."
"ali?"
"the pilot, hbc's pilot, ali abbasi, he was going to kill me." half asleep lochart told him what had happened. then he noticed rudi had gone chalky. "what's the matter?"
rudi jerked his thumb outside. "that's his brother hushang abbasi he's the one who totaled hbc..."
tehran: 4:17 p.m. both men were staring anxiously at the telex machine in the s-g penthouse office. "come on for god's sake!" mciver muttered and glanced again at his watch. the 125 was due at five-thirty. "we'll have to leave soon, andy, you never know about traffic."
gavallan was rocking absently in a creaky old chair. "yes, but genny's not here yet. soon as she arrives we'll leave. if worst comes to worst i can call aberdeen from al shargaz."
"a johnny hogg makes it through kish and isfahan airspace, and the clearance holds in tehran."
"he'll arrive this time, i've a good feeling our mullah tehrani wants the new glasses. hope to god johnny's got them for him."
"so do i."
this was the first day the komiteh had allowed any foreigners back into the building. most of the morning had been spent cleaning up and restarting their generator that had, of course, run out of fuel. almost at once the telex machine had chattered into life: "urgent! please confirm your telex is working and inform mr. mciver i have an avisyard telex for the boss. is he still in tehran?"
the telex was from elizabeth chen in aberdeen. "avisyard" was a company code, used rarely, meaning a top classified message for mciver's eyes only and to operate the machine himself. it took him four tries to get the aberdeen callback.
"so long as we haven't lost a bird," gavallan said with an inward prayer.
"i was thinking that too." mciver eased his shoulders. "any idea what could merit an avisyard?"
"no." gavallan hid his sadness, thinking about the real avisyard, castle avisyard, where he had spent so many happy years with kathy, who had suggested the code. don't think about kathy now, he told himself. not now.
"i hate bloody telex machines they're always going wrong," mciver was saying, his stomach churning, mostly because of the row that he had had last night with genny, insisting that she go on the 125 today, also because there was still no news from lochart. added to that, again none of the iranian office staff had reported for work, only the pilots who had come in this morning. mciver had sent them all away except pettikin whom he had put on standby. nagger lane had wandered in around noon, reporting that his flight with the mullah tehrani, six green bands, and five women went well. "i think our friendly mullah wants another ride tomorrow. he expects you 5:30 rm. sharp at the airport."
"all right. nogger, you relieve charlie."
"come on, mac, old chap, i've worked hard all morning, above and beyond the call, and paula's still in town."
"how well i know, 'old chap,' and the way things look she'll be here for the week!" mciver had told him. "you relieve charlie, you get your hot little tail into a chair, bring our aircraft ledgers up to date, and one more bloody word out of you i'll post you to bloody nigeria!"
they had waited, grimly conscious that telexes had to go part of the way through phone lines. "bloody lot of wire between here and aberdeen," mciver muttered.
gavallan said, "soon as genny arrives we'll leave. i'll make sure she's all right in al shargaz before i go home. you're quite right to insist."
"i know, you know, and the whole of iran knows but she bloody doesn't!"
"women," gavallan said diplomatically. "anything else i can do?"
"don't think so. squeezing our two remaining partners helped a lot." gavallan had tracked them down, mohammed siamaki and turiz bakhtiar a common surname in iran for those from the rich and powerful and multitudinous bakhtiar tribe of which the ex-prime minister was one of the chiefs. gavallan had extracted 5 million rials in cash a little over $60,000, a pittance against what the partners owed with promises for more every week, in return for a promise, and a handwritten note, to reimburse them personally "outside the
country, should it be necessary, and passage on the 125 should it be necessary."
"all right, but where's valik how do i get hold of him?" gavallan had asked, pretending to know nothing about his escape.
"we already told you: he's on vacation with his family," siamaki had said, rude and arrogant as always. "he'll contact you in london or aberdeen there's the overdue matter of our funds in the bahamas."
"our joint funds, dear partner, and there's the matter of almost $4 million owing on work already completed, apart from our aircraft lease payments overdue, long overdue."
"if the banks were open you'd have the money. it's not our fault the shah's pestilential allies ruined him and ruined iran. we are not to blame for any of the catastrophes, none. as to the monies owed, haven't we paid in the past?"
"yes. usually six months late, but i agree, dear friends, eventually we have extracted our share. but if all joint ventures are suspended as the mullah tehrani told me, how do we operate from now on?"
"some joint ventures, not all your information is exaggerated and incorrect, gavallan. we are on notice to get back to normal as soon as possible crews can leave once their replacements are safely here. oil fields must be returned to full production. there will be no problems. but to forestall any trouble, once more we have bailed out the partnership. tomorrow my illustrious cousin, finance minister ali kia, joins the board a "
"hold on a minute! i have prior approval of any change in the board!"
"you used to have that power, but the board voted to change that bylaw. if you wish to go against the board you can bring it up at the next meeting in london but under the circumstances the change is necessary and reasonable. minister kia has assured us we'll be exempt. of course minister kia's fees and percentage will come out of your share..."
gavallan tried not to watch the telex machine but he found it difficult, trying to think a way out of the trap. "one moment everything seems okay, the next it's rotten again."
"yes. yes, andy, i agree. talbot was today's clincher."
this morning, early, they had met talbot briefly. "oh, yes, old boy, joint ventures are definitely persona non grata now, so sorry," he had told them dryly. "the 'on high' have decreed that all joint ventures are suspended, pending instructions, though what instructions and from whom, they didn't impart. or who the 'on high' are. we presume the olympian decree is from the dear old komiteh, whoever they are! on the other side of the coin, old chap, the ayatollah and prime minister bazargan have both said all foreign debts will be honored. of course khomeini overrides bazargan and issues counter instructions, bazargan issues instructions which the revolutionary komiteh overrules, the local komitehs are vigilantes whotre taking their own
version of law as gospel, and not one rotten little urchin has yet handed in a weapon. the jails are filling up nicely, heads are rolling and apart from the tumbrils it all has a jolly old tediously familiar ring, old boy, and rather suggests we should all retire to margate for the duration."
"you're serious?"
"our advice to evacuate all unessential personnel still stands the moment the airport opens which is god knows when but promised for saturday we've got ba to cooperate with chartered 747s. as to the illustrious ali kia, he's a minor official, very minor indeed, with no power and a good-weather friend to all sides. by the way, we've just heard that the u.s. ambassador in kabul was abducted by anti-communist, shitite fundamentalist mujhadin who tried to exchange him for other mujhadin held by the pro-soviet government. in the following shoot-out he was killed. things are heating up rather nicely..."
the telex clicked on, their attention zeroed, but the machine did not function. both of them cursed.
"soon as i get to al shargaz i can phone the office and find out what's the problem..." gavallan glanced at the door as it opened. to their surprise it was erikki he and azadeh had been due to meet them at the airport. erikki was smiling his usual smile but there was no light behind it.
"hello, boss, hi, mac."
"hi, erikki. what's up?" mciver looked at him keenly.
"slight change of plan. we're, er, well, azadeh and i are going back to tabriz first.''
yesterday evening gavallan had suggested that erikki and azadeh take immediate leave. "we'll find a replacement. how about coming with me tomorrow? perhaps we could get azadeh replacement papers in london..."
"why the change, erikki?" he asked. "azadeh's had second thoughts about leaving iran without iranian papers?"
"no. an hour ago we got a message i got a message from her father. here, read it for yourself." erikki gave it to gavallan, who shared it with mciver. the handwritten note said: "from abdollah khan to captain yokkonen: i require my daughter to come back here at once and ask you to grant her permission." it was signed, abdollah khan. the message was repeated in farsi on the other side.
