"for god's sake, you've been saying that for weeks," mciver said coldly, "i need money now."
"so do we all," the general had hissed back, shaking with rage, but very conscious of the iranian employees in the outer office who would be sure to be listening. "there's civil war going on and i can't open the banks. you'll have to wait." he was a rotund man, balding, with darkish skin, an ex-army general, his clothes expensive, his watch expensive. he dropped his voice even lower. "if it wasn't for stupid americans who betrayed the shah and persuaded him to curb our glorious armed forces, we wouldn't be in this mess!"
"i'm british as you well know and you brought the mess on yourself."
"british, american, what's the difference? it's all your fault. you both betrayed our shah and iran and now you're going to pay for it!"
"with what?" mciver asked sourly. "you've got all our money."
"if it wasn't for your iranian partners me particularly you wouldn't have any money. andy's not complaining. i had a telex from my revered colleague, general javadah, that andy was signing the new guerney contracts this week."
"andy said he had a telex from you confirming that you promised him you'd provide us with cash."
"i promised i'd try." the general curbed his rage with an effort, for he needed mciver's cooperation. he mopped his forehead and opened his briefcase. it was stuffed with high-denomination rials but he held the top carefully so it was impossible for mciver to see inside, then brought out a small sheaf of notes, closing the briefcase. with great deliberation he counted out 500,000 rials about $6,000. "there," he said with a great flourish, putting the rials on the table and the rest away again. "next week i or one of my colleagues will bring some more. a receipt, please."
"thank you." mciver signed the receipt. "when can we exp "
"next week. if the banks open we can settle everything. we're always good as our word. always. haven't we arranged the guerney contracts?" valik leaned forward and dropped his voice even more. "now, i have a special charter. tomorrow i want a 212, to leave sometime in the morning."
"to go where?"
"i need to inspect some facilities at abadan," valik said and mciver noticed the sweat.
"and how will i get the necessary permissions, general? with all your airspace controlled by the military and w "
"don't bother with permission, just have "
"unless we've a flight plan, approved by the military in advance, it's an illegal flight."
"you can always say you asked for permission and it was given verbally. what's so difficult about that?"
"first it's against iranian law, general, your law, second even if cleared verbally and the aircraft got out of tehran airspace, you've still got to give the next military air traffic controller your recorded number all flight plans are recorded at your air force hq and they're even more twitchy about helicopters than civilians and if you don't have one the controller will say get your tail down at the next military base and report to the tower. and when you land, they'll meet you very irritably and correctly in force, my aircraft will be impounded, and the passengers and crew put in jail."
"then find a way. it's a very important charter. the, er, the guerney contracts depend on it. just have the 212 ready at nine o'clock, say at galeg morghi."
"why there? why not at the international airport?"
"it's more convenient... and quiet now."
mciver frowned. it was well within valik's authority to ask for and authorize such a flight. "very well, i'll try." he pulled out the pad of blank flight plan forms, noticed that the last copy referred to pettikin's flight to tabriz and again his anxiety mounted where the devil is he? under "passengers" he put general valik, chairman of ihc, and handed it to him. "please sign under authority."
valik shoved the form back imperiously. "there's no need for my name to be put on it just put four passengers my wife and two children will be with me, and some luggage. we will be staying in abadan for a week, then returning. just have the ready at 9:00 a.m. at galeg morghi."
"sorry, general, the names have to be on the clearance or the air force won't even accept the flight plan. all passengers have to be named. i'll apply for clearance but i don't hold out much hope for you." mciver began to add the other names.
"no, stop! no need to give our names. just put down the trip's to send some spares to abadan. surely there are some spares you need to send there." the sweat was beading him.
"all right, but first please sign the authority, with the name of all passengers and your final destination."
the general's face reddened. "just arrange it without involving me. at once!"
"i can't." mciver was becoming equally impatient. "i repeat, the military will want to know all the 'who' and the 'where' they're as sticky now as flypaper. we'll get even more searching enquiries than usual because we haven't
had any traffic in weeks going that way. tehran's not like in the south where we're flying all day."
"this is a special flight for spares. simple."
"it isn't simple at all. sentries at galeg morghi wouldn't let you aboard without papers, nor would the tower. they'd see you going aboard, for god's sake." mclver stared at him exasperated. "why don't you arrange the clearance yourself, general? you've the best connections in iran. you've certainly made that clear. for you it should be simple."
"they're all our planes. we own them own them!"
"yes, you do," mclver said as grimly. "when you've paid for them you owe us almost 4 million u.s. in back payments. if you want to go to abadan that's your business, but if they catch you doing it in an s-g chopper with false papers which i must countersign, you'll land in jail, your family'll be in jail along with me and the pilot, and they'll impound our aircraft and close us down forever." just the thought of jail made him feel bilious. if a tenth of the stories about savak and iranian jails were true, they were no places to be.
valik choked back his rage. he sat down and put a sickly smile on his face. "there's no need for us to quarrel, mac, we've been through too much together. i, i will make it very worthwhile, eh? both to you and the pilot." he opened the briefcase. "eh? 12 million rials between you."
mclver looked at the money blankly. 12 million was about $150,000 over 100,000 pounds sterling. numbly, he shook his head.
at once valik said, "all right, 12 million each and expenses half now and half when we're safe at kuwait airport, eh?"
mclver was in shock, not only because of the money but because valik had openly said
"kuwait" which mclver had suspected but had not wished to think about. this was a complete 180-degree turn from everything that valik had been saying for months: for months he had been bullish about the shah crushing the opposition, then khomeini. and even after the shah's unbelievable departure and khomeini's astonishing return to tehran my god, was that only ten days agog. valik had said a dozen times that there was nothing to worry about, for bakhtiar and the generals of the imperial staff held the complete balance of power and would never permit "this khomeini-covert communist revolution to succeed." nor would the united states permit it. never. at the right time the services would seize power and take over. only yesterday valik had confidently repeated it and said he'd heard that any hour the army was going to move in force and that the immortals at doshan tappeh, putting down the small air force mutiny, was the first sign.
mclver tore his gaze off the money and looked at the eyes of the man opposite. "what do you know that we don't know?"
"what're you talking about?" valik began to bluster. "i don't know an "
"something's happened, what is it?"
"i've got to get out, with my family," valik said, on the edge of desperation now. "rumors are terrible coup or civil war, khomeini or not, i'm, we're, we're marked. do you understand? it's my family, mac, i've got to get out, until things quiet down. 12 million each, eh?"
"what rumors?"
"rumors!" valik almost spat at him. "get the clearance any way you can. i pay in advance.
"
"however much money you offer i won't do it. it has to be straight."
"you stupid hypocrite! straight? how have you been operating all these years in iran? pishkesh! how much have you yourself paid under the counter or to customs men? pishkesh! how do you think we get contracts, eh? the guerney contracts? pishkesh! by putting cash, quietly, into the right hands. are you so stupid you still don't know iranian ways?"
mciver said as grimly, "i know pishkesh, i'm not stupid, and i know iran has its own ways. oh, yes, iran has its own ways. the answer's no."
"then the blood of my children and my wife are on your head. and mine."
"what're you talking about?"
"are you afraid of the truth?"
mciver stared at him. valik's wife and two children were favorites of genny's and his. "what makes you so sure?"
"i've... i've a cousin in the police. he saw a... a secret savak list. i am to be arrested the day after tomorrow along with many other prominent persons as a sop to the... the opposition. and my family. and you know how they treat... how they can treat women and children in front of the..." valik's words trailed off.
mciver's defences crumbled. they had all heard horrendous stories of wives and children being tortured in front of the arrested man to force his compliance with whatever they wanted, or just for devilment. "all right," he said helplessly, feeling rotten, knowing he was trapped. "i'll try, but don't expect to get a clearance, and you shouldn't go south to abadan. your best bet would be turkey. perhaps we could chopper you to tabriz, then you could buy your way over the border in a truck. you must have friends there. and you can't make the pickup galeg morghi there's no way you could sneak aboard with annoush and the children or even get into that military field without being stopped. you'd... you'd have to be picked up outside of tehran. somewhere off the roads and out of sight of radar."
"all right, but it has to be abadan."
"why? you lessen your chances by half."
"has to be. my family... my father and mother got there by road. of course you're right about galeg morghi. we could be picked up outside tehran at..."
valik thought for a moment, then rushed on: "at the junction of the pipeline south and the river zehsan... it's away from the road and safe. we'll be there in the morning at eleven o'clock. god will thank you, mac. if... if you apply for a clearance for spares, i... i will arrange that it's approved. please, i beg
you."
"but what about refueling? when you land for refueling, the landing officer's bound to spot you and you'll be arrested in seconds."
"request refueling at the air force base at isfahan. i... i will arrange isfahan." valik wiped the sweat off his face.
"and if anything goes wrong?"
"insha'allah! you'll apply for clearance for spares no names on the clearance or i'm dead or worse and so are annoush, lalal, and setarem. please?"
mciver knew it was madness. "i'll apply for clearance: spares only for bandar delam. i should know by midnight if it's approved i'll send someone to wait for it and bring it to me at the apartment. phones are out so you'll have to come to me for confirmation. that'll give me time to think this out and decide yes or no."
"but y "
"midnight. "
"yes, very well, i shall be there."
"what about the other partners?"
"they they know nothing of this. emir paknouri or one of the others will act for me."
"what about weekly monies?"
"they will provide it." again valik wiped his forehead. "the blessings of god on you." he put on his overcoat and walked for the door. the briefcase stayed on the desk.
"take that with you."
valik turned back. "ah, you want me to pay in kuwait? or switzerland? in what currency?"
"there's no payment. you can authorise a charter. maybe we can get you to bandar delam then you're on your own."
valik stared at him with disbelief. "but... but even so, you'll need expense money to pay for the er, pilot or whatever."
"no, but you can give me an advance of 5 million rials against the money the partnership owes which we desperately need." mciver scrawled out a receipt and handed it to him. "if you're not here, the emir or the others may not be so generous."
"the banks will open next week, we're sure of it. oh, yes, quite sure."
"well, let's hope so and we can be paid what's owing." he saw valik's expression, saw him count out the money, knowing that valik thought
him mad not to have accepted the pishkesh, knowing also that inevitably the man would try to bribe the pilot, whoever the pilot was, to take them the last stretch if the chopper ever got out of tehran airspace and that would be a disaster.
and now, in his office, staring blankly out of the window at the night, not hearing the gunfire or seeing the occasional flare light the darkened city, he thought, my god, savak? i have to try to help him, have to. those poor bloody kids and poor woman. i have to! and when valik offers the pilot a bribe, even though i'll warn the pilot in advance, will he resist? if valik offered twelve million now, at abadan it would be doubled. tom could use that money, nogger lane, so could i, anyone. just for a short trip across the gulf short but one way and no return. where the hell did valik get all that cash anyway? of course from a bank.
for weeks there had been rumors that for a fee certain well-connected people could get monies out of tehran even though the banks formally were closed. or for an even larger fee get monies transferred to a numbered account in switzerland, and that now swiss banks were groaning under the weight of money fleeing the country. billions. a few million in the right palm and anything's possible. isn't that the same over the whole of asia? be honest, why just asia? isn't it true over the whole world?
"tom," he said wearily, "try military air traffic control and see if the 212's cleared, will you?" as far as lochart was concerned, this was just a routine delivery mclver had told him only that he had seen valik today and that the general had given him some cash, but nothing else. he still had to decide the pilot he would send, wishing he could do it himself and so put no one else at risk. god cursed medical! god cursed rules!
lochart went to the hf. at that moment there was a scuffle in the outer of rice, and the door swung open. standing there was a youth with an automatic rifle over his shoulder and a green band on his arm. half a dozen other youths were with him. the iranian staff waited, paralysed. the young man stared at mclver and lochart then consulted a list.
"salaam, agha. captan mciver?" he asked lochart, his english hesitant and heavily accented.
"salaam, agha. no, i am captain mciver," mclver said uneasily, his first thought, are these more of the same group who murdered poor kyabi? his second thought, gen should have left with the others, i should have insisted, his third about the stacks of rials in his open attache case on the floor beside the hatstand.
"ah, good," the young man said politely. there were dark rings under his eyes, his face strong, and though mclver judged him to be twenty- five at the most, he had an old man's look about him. "danger here. for you here.
now. please to go. we are komiteh for this block. please you to go. now."
"all right. certainly, er, thank you." twice before, mciver had thought it prudent to evacuate the offices because of riots and mobs in the streets around them even though, astonishingly, considering their vast numbers, the mobs had been very disciplined with little damage to property or to europeans except for cars parked on the streets. this was the first time anyone had come here to warn him personally. obediently mciver and lochart put on their overcoats, mciver closed his attache case, and, with the others, began to leave. he switched off the lights.
"how lights when no one else?" the leader asked.
"we've our own generator. on the roof."
the youth smiled strangely, his teeth very white. "foreigners have generators and warm, iranians not."
mciver was going to answer but thought better of it.
"you got message? me
ssage about leaving? message today?"
"yes," mclver said. one message in the office, one at the apartment that genny had found in their letter box. they just said, "on december 1 you were warned to leave: why are you still here if not as an enemy? you have little time left. [signed] the university supporters for islamic republic in iran."
"you, er, you are representatives of the university?"
"we are your komiteh. please to leave now. enemies better not come back ever. no?"
mclver and lochart walked out. the revolutionaries followed them down the stairs. for weeks the elevator had not worked.
the street was still clear, no mobs, or fires, and all gunfire distant.
"not come back. three days."
James Clavell - Whirlwind Page 21