"yes," hashemi said bitterly. "for years that bastard's been part of almost every crucial military or political meeting, every head of state conference, every secret agreement, and in the last days part of every important meeting with the u.s. ambassador, u.s. generals, every important decision of the shah, of our generals, and present every time a coup d'etat was discussed and turned down." he was so angry that tears ran down his cheeks, "we're all betrayed. the shah, the revolution, the people, you, me, everyone! how many times have we reported to him over the years together, and me dozens of other times? with lists, names, bank accounts, liaisons, secrets that only we could find out and know. everything everything in writing but one copy only wasn't that the rule? we're all betrayed."
armstrong felt chilled. of course pahmudi knew all about his involvement with inner intelligence. pahmudi had to know everything of value about george talbot, about masterson, his cia opposite number, lavenov, his soviet opposite number, all our short and long contingency planning, invasion planning, operations to neutralize the cia's top secret radar sites with men like young captain ross.
"bloody hell," he muttered, at the same time furious that their own sources had not forewarned them. pahmudi, suave, intelligent, trilingual, and discreet. never once over the years had there been the slightest suspicion against him. never. how could he have escaped cleanly, even from the shah who was constantly having his top associates checked and double-checked and rechecked. with every right, he thought. five assassination attempts against him, bullets in his body and face, wasn't he ruler of a people known for violence toward and from their rulers?
christ! where will it all end'?
in the same traffic: 9:15 a.m. mclver was inching along, well to the south, heading for the bazaar area where jared bakravan's family house was, tom lochart beside him.
"it'll all work out," mciver said, sick with worry.
"sure, mac. no sweat."
"yes, not to worry." when mciver had got back home to his apartment from all kia and the ministry, elated, tom lochart was there, arrived just moments before. his even greater joy at finding tom lochart safe was dashed at once by the look of him and by the news pettikin gave him about freddy ayre's relayed radio call from scot gavallan at zagros, and about starke being taken by the kowiss komiteh for questioning about "the isfahan escape."
"it's all my goddamn fault, mac, all of it," tom lochart had said.
"no, not your fault, tom. we were both trapped anyway i okayed the flight, not that it helped valik. were they all aboard; how the hell did you get out? tell us what happened, then i'll call freddy you'd like a drink?"
"no, no, thanks. listen, mac, i've got to find sharazad. she wasn't home, i'm hoping she's at her folks' house and i've got t "
"she's there, i know she's there, tom. erikki told me just before he left this morning for tabriz. did you hear about her father?"
"yes, i have, awful, bloody awful! you're sure she's there?"
"yes." mciver walked heavily over to the sideboard and fixed himself a drink as he continued: "she hasn't been at your flat since you left and she was fine until... erikki and azadeh saw her day before yesterday. yesterday they..."
"did erikki say how she was?"
"he said she was as well as could be expected you know how close iranian families are. we don't know anything about her dad other than what erikki told us that he had been ordered to the jail as a witness, and the next thing the family was told to pick up his body, he'd been been shot for 'crimes against islam.' erikki said they picked up the er, the body and, well, yesterday they were in mourning. sorry, but there you are." he took a deep swallow of the lovely, peat-tasting drink and felt a little better. "she's safe at home first tell us what happened to you, then i'll call freddy and we'll go and find sharazad."
quickly lochart did so. they listened, appalled. "when rudi told me that this iranian air force officer, abbasi, was the one who shot down hbc i almost went mad. i, i kinda collapsed and the next thing i remember was the next day. abbasi and the others had gone by then and it was all sop. mac, charlie's idea about a 'hijack' that's not going to stand up no way!"
"we know that, tom," mciver had said. "first finish your story."
"i couldn't get a clearance to fly back so i borrowed a car, just got back a couple of hours ago and went straight to the apartment. the bastard of it is
it's been confiscated by green bands, along with all mr. bakravan's property, except the shop in the bazaar and his family home."
lochart told them what had happened, adding, "i'm i'm a waif in the storm. i've nothing now, we've nothing, sharazad and i." he laughed and it was a bad laugh and mciver could see that he was dying inside. "it's true it was jared's building, the apartment and everything in it, though... though part of sharazad's, er, dowry... let's go, huh, mac?"
"first let me call freddy. th "
"oh, of course, sure, sorry. i'm so worried i can't think straight."
mclver finished his drink and went to the hf. he stared at it. "tom," he said sadly, "what do you want to do about zagros?"
tom lochart hesitated. "i could take sharazad there with me."
"too dangerous, laddie. sorry, but there it is." mclver saw lochart look into himself and measure himself, and sighed, feeling very old.
"if sharazad's okay i'll go back with jean-luc tomorrow morning and we'll sort out zagros, and she goes on the next shuttle to al shargaz," lochart said. "depending on what we find at zagros... if we have to close down, insha'allah, we'll ferry all our riggers to shiraz to go out by regular flights their company'll tell them where they're to go and we'll move everything to kowiss, airplanes, spares, and personnel. okay?"
"yes. meanwhile i'll get on to the ministry first thing tomorrow and see if i can straighten it out." mclver clicked on the sender. "kowiss, this is hq. do you read?"
almost instantly: "hq this is kowiss, captain ayre, go ahead please, captain mclver."
"first, about zagros three: tell captain gavallan that captains lochart and sessonne will be back tomorrow around noon with instructions. meanwhile prepare plans to obey the komiteh." rotten bloody sods, he thought, then went on for the benefit of those who were listening in: "the zagros iranoil base manager should remind the komiteh that the ayatollah and the government have specifically ordered oil production back to normal. closing down zagros will severely interfere with orderly production in that area. inform captain gavallan i will take this up at once with minister kia personally who, an hour ago, confirmed this to me, and gave me written approvals to take out and replace crew by our own 125 until..."
"christ, mac, that's great news," came over the airwaves involuntarily.
"yes... by our own 125 until regular service resumes. crew replacements and replacement aircraft to service all the extra work and guerney contracts the government are asking us to service, so i cannot understand the actions of the local komiteh. got it, captain ayre?"
"yessing message received five by five."
"has captain starke returned yet?"
a long silence, then: "negative, hq."
mclver's voice became even colder. "call me at once when he does. captain ayre, just between you and me and to go no further: if he has any problems whatsoever and isn't safe back at base by dawn, i will ground all our aircraft throughout iran, close down all our operations, and order 100 percent of all our personnel out of iran."
"good, mac," pettikin said softly.
mclver was too concentrated to hear him. "did you get that, kowiss?"
silence, then: ''affirmative.''
"as far as you're concerned," mclver added, developing his sudden thought, "inform major changiz and hotshot from me, i'm ordering you right now to cease all operations including all casevacs until starke's back on the base. got that?"
silence, then: "affirmative. the message will be relayed at once."
"good. but only the information that applies to your base. the rest's private until dawn." he smiled grimly, then added, "i'll be making an inspection trip as soon as the 125 returns so make sure all manifests are up to date. anything else?"
"no, sir. not for the present. we'll look forward to seeing you and we'll listen out as usual."
"hq over and out."
pettikin said, "that should do it, mac, that'll put a hornet up their arses."
"maybe, maybe not. we can't stop casevacs apart from humanitarian reasons that makes us illegal and they can steal everything." mclver finished his drink, glanced at his watch. "come on, tom, we won't wait for jean-luc, let's go and find sharazad."
the traffic had lessened a little now but was still inching along, snow griming the windshield. the road was slippery and banked with dirty snow.
"turn right at the next corner," lochart said.
"okay, tom." they drove in silence again. mclver turned the corner. "tom, did you sign for the fuel at isfahan?"
"no, no, i didn't."
"anyone interview you, ask for your name, that sort of thing? green bands? anyone?"
lochart pulled his mind off sharazad. "no, not that i remember. i was just 'captain' and part of the scenery. far as i remember i wasn't introduced to anyone. valik and... and annoush and the kids, they went off for lunch as soon as we landed with the other general christ, i can't even remember his name ah, yes, seladi, that was it. everyone called me 'captain' i was just
a piece of the scenery. matter of fact i stayed with the chopper at the hangar all the time we were there, watching the refueling and checking her out they even brought me some food on a tray and i ate sitting in the cabin. i stayed there all the time until those goddamn green bands fell on me and dragged me off and locked me in the room. i had no warning, mac. they just enveloped the base, they must've been helped lavishly from inside, had to be. the bastards that grabbed me were all hopped up, shouting i was cia, american they kept on about that, but they were more concerned about subduing the base than about me. take the left fork, mac. it's not far now."
mclver drove on uneasily, the area very run down and passersby glaring at them. "maybe we could get away with it pretend hbc was hijacked from doshan tappeh by someone unknown. maybe they won't follow it up from isfahan."
"then why did they grab duke starke?"
"routine." mciver sighed heavily. "i know it's a long shot but it might work. maybe the 'american cia' will stick and that's all. grow a mustache, or beard, just in case."
lochart shook his head. "that's no help. i'm on the first clearance. we both are... that's the kicker."
"when you took off from doshan tappeh, who saw you off?"
lochart thought a moment. "no one. i think it was nogger who supervised the fueling the day before. th "
"that's right, i remember now, he was bitching, said i was giving him too much work with young paula in town. were there any iranian staff, guards there? did you pay anyone baksheesh?"
"no, there was no one. but they could have me on their automatic recorders..." lochart peered out of the side window. his excitement picked up and he pointed. "there's the turning, not far now."
mciver steered into the narrow street, just room for two cars to pass. snow banked the sides up to the high walls doors and doorways either side. mciver had never been here before and was surprised that bakravan, so rich, would live in an area so clearly poor. was rich, he reminded himself with an involuntary shiver, and now very dead for "crimes against the state" and what constitutes a crime against the state? again he shivered.
"there's the door, there on the left."
they stopped beside the snowbank heavy with refuse. the nondescript doorway was cut into the high, mildewed wall. the door was iron- banded, the iron rusty. "come on in, mac."
"i'll wait for a moment, then if all's well i'll leave. i'm pooped." there's only one solution, mciver thought, and he reached out and stopped lochart. "tom, we've permission to fly out three 212s. you take one. tomorrow. the
hell with zagros, jean-luc can cope with that. i don't know about sharazad, if they'll let her go or not, but you'd better get out, fast as you can. it's the only thing to do, get out while you can. we'll put her on the next 125 flight."
"and you, what about you, mac?"
"me? nothing to worry about. you get out if they'll let her go, take her too. jean-luc can handle zagros looks like we'll have to close down there anyway. all right?"
lochart looked at him. "let me think about that one, mac. but thanks." he got out. "i'll be by just after dawn don't let jean-luc go without me. we can decide then, okay?"
"yes." mciver watched his friend use the old-fashioned knocker. the sound was loud. both men waited, lochart nauseous with anxiety, preparing for the family surrounding him, the tears and the welcome and the questions, having to be polite when all he wanted was to take her off to their own rooms and hold her and feel safe and all the nightmare gone. waiting in front of the door. then knocking again, louder. waiting. mciver switching off to save gasoline, the silence making the waiting worse. snowflakes on the windshield building up. people passing like wraiths, everyone suspicious and hostile.
