"there was a mullah in the helicopter?"
"yes, yes, there was."
"you will go to the mosque, ibrahim?" his mother had asked him again.
"yes," he had said, the first lie he had ever told her. it had taken him no time to find the university tudeh leaders and dimitri yazernov, to swear allegiance, to get a machine gun, and, most of all, to ask them to find the name of the mullah in the helicopter of bandar delam. and now he stood there waiting, wanting vengeance, his soul crying out against the outrage committed against his father in the name of the false god. "dimitri, let's begin!" he said, his fury whipped by the shouting of the crowd.
"we must wait, ibrahim," rakoczy said gently, very pleased to have the youth with them. "don't forget the mob is a means to an end remember the plan!" when he had told it to them an hour ago they had been stunned.
"raid the american embassy?"
"yes," he had said calmly, "a quick raid, in and out, tomorrow or the next day. tonight the rally will become a mob. the embassy's hardly a mile and a half away. it will be easy to send the mob rampaging that way as an experiment. what more perfect cover could we have for a raid than a riot? we let the enemy mujhadin and fedayeen go against islamics and kill each other off while we
take the initiative. tonight we plant more seeds. tomorrow or the next day we'll raid the u.s. embassy."
"but it's impossible, dimitri, impossible!"
"it's easy. just a raid, not an attempt at a takeover, that will come later. a raid will be unexpected, it's simple to execute. you can easily grab the embassy for an hour, hold the ambassador and everyone captive for an hour or so while you sack it. americans do not have the will to resist. that's the key to them! here are the plans of the buildings and the numbers of marines and i will be there to help. your coup will be immense it will hit world headlines and totally embarrass bazargan and khomeini, and even more the americans. don't forget who the real enemy is and that now you have to act fast to grab the initiative from khomeini..."
it had been easy to convince them. it will be easy to create the diversion, he thought. and it'll be easy to go straight to the cia basement office and radio room, blow the safe, and empty it of all documents and cipher books, then up the back stairs to the second landing, turn left, into the third room on the left, the ambassador's bedroom, to the safe behind the oil painting hanging over the bed, blow that and empty it similarly. sudden, swift, and violent if there's any opposition.
"dimitri! look!"
rakoczy spun around. coming down the road were hundreds of youths green bands and mullahs at the head. at once rakoczy roared, "death to khomeini!" and fired a burst into the air. the suddenness of the shots whipped everyone into a frenzy, there were shouts and countershouts, simultaneously other guns went off all over the quadrangle, and everyone began to scatter, trampling over one another in their haste, the screams beginning.
before he could stop him, he saw ibrahim aim at the oncoming green bands and fire. some men in the front rank went down, a howl of rage burst from them, and guns opened up in their direction. he dived to the ground, cursing. the torrent of bullets missed him but got farmad and others nearby but not ibrahim and the remaining three tudeh leaders. he shouted at them and they all hugged the cement as panic-stricken students opened up with carbines and pistols.
many were wounded before the big mujhadin rakoczy had marked for execution rallied his men around him and led a charge at the islamics and drove them back. at once others came to his aid and the retreat became a rout, a roar went through the students, and the rally became a mob.
rakoczy grabbed ibrahim who was just about to charge off mindlessly.
"follow me!" he ordered, half shoved ibrahim and the others farther into the lee of the building, then, when he was sure they were with him, took to his heels in a frantic, chest-hurting retreat.
at a junction of paths in the snow-covered gardens, he stopped a moment to catch his breath. the wind was chill and night on them now.
"what about farmad?" ibrahim gasped. "he was wounded!"
"no," he said, "he was dying. come on!"
again he led the rush unerringly through the garden, along the street near the scientific faculty, across the parking lot into the next, and he did not stop till the sound of the riot was distant. there was a stitch in his side and his breathing came in great pants, tearing at him. when he could speak, he said, "don't worry about anything. go back to your homes or your dormitories. get everyone ready for the raid, tomorrow or the next day the committee will give the order." he hurried away into the gathering night.
at lochart's apartment: 7:30 p.m. sharazad was lying in a foam bath, her head propped on a waterproof pillow, eyes closed, her hair tied up in a towel. "oh, azadeh, darling," she said drowsily, perspiration beading her forehead, "i'm so happy."
azadeh was also in the bath and she lay with her head at the other end, enjoying the heat and the intimacy and the sweet perfumed water and the luxury her long hair also up in a pure white towel the bath large and deep and comfortable for two. but there were still dark rings under her eyes, and she could not shake off the terrors of yesterday at the roadblock or in the helicopter. outside the curtains, night had come. gunfire echoed in the distance. neither paid it any attention.
"i wish erikki would come back," azadeh said.
"he won't be long, there's lots of time, darling. dinner's not till nine, so we've almost two hours to get ready." sharazad opened her eyes and put her hand on azadeh's slender thighs, enjoying the touch of her. "don't worry, darling azadeh, he'll be back soon, your redheaded giant! and don't forget i'm spending the night with my parents so you two can run naked together all night long! enjoy our bath, be happy, and swoon when he returns." they laughed together. "everything's wonderful now, you're safe, we're all safe, iran's safe with the help of god the imam has conquered and iran's safe and free."
"i wish i could believe it, i wish i could believe it as you do," azadeh said. "i can't explain how terrible those people near the roadblock were it was as though i was being choked by their hate. why should they hate us hate me and erikki? what had we done to them? nothing at all and yet they hated us."
"don't think about them, my dear one." sharazad stifled a yawn. "leftists are all mad, claiming to be muslim and at the same time marxist. they're anti-god and therefore cursed. the villagers? villagers are uneducated as you
know too well, and most of them simple. don't worry that's past, now everything is going to be better, you'll see."
"i hope, oh, how i hope you're right. i don't want it better but just as it was, normal, like it's always been, normal again."
"oh, it will be." sharazad felt so contented, the water so silky and so warm and womblike. ah, she thought, only three more days to be sure and then tommy tells father that oh, yes, of course he wants sons and daughters, and then, the next day, the great day, i should know for certain though i'm certain now. haven't i always been so regular? then i can give tommy my gift of god and he'll be so proud. "the imam does the work of god. how can it be otherwise than good?"
"i don't know, sharazad, but never in our history have mullahs been worthy of trust just parasites on the back of the villagers."
"ah, but now it's different," sharazad told her, not really wanting to discuss such serious matters. "now we have a real leader. now he's in control of iran for the first time ever. isn't he the most pious of men, the most learned of islam and the law? doesn't he do god's work? hasn't he achieved the impossible, throwing out the shah and his nasty corruption, stopping the generals from making a coup with the americans? father says we're safer now than we've ever been."
"are we?" azadeh remembered rakoczy in the chopper and what he had said about khomeini and stepping backward in history, and she knew he had spoken the truth, a lot of truth, and she had clawed at him, hating him, wanting him dead, for of course he was one of those who would use the simpleminded mullahs to enslave everyone else. "you want to be ruled by islamic laws of th
e prophet's time, almost fifteen hundred years ago enforced chador, the loss of our hard-won rights of voting, working, and being equal?"
"i don't want to vote, or work, or be equal how can a woman equal a man? i just want to be a good wife to tommy, and in iran i prefer the chador on the streets." delicately sharazad covered another yawn, drowsed by the warmth. "insha'allah, azadeh, darling. of course everything will be as before but father says more wonderful because now we possess ourselves, our land, our oil, and everything in our land. there'll be no nasty foreign generals or politicians to disgrace us and with the evil shah gone, we'll all live happily ever after, you with your erikki, me with my tommy, and lots and lots of children. how else could it be? god is with the imam and the imam is with us! we're so lucky." she smiled at her and put her arm around her friend's legs affectionately. "i'm so glad you're staying with me, azadeh. it seems such a long time since you were in tehran."
"yes." they had been friends for many years. first in switzerland where they had met at school, up in the high country, though sharazad had only
stayed one term, unhappy to be away from her family and iran, then later at the university in tehran. and now, for a little over a year, because both had married foreigners in the same company, they had become even closer, closer than sisters, helping each other adapt to foreign idiosyncrasies:
"sometimes i just don't understand my tommy at all, azadeh," sharazad had said tearfully in the beginning. "he enjoys being alone, i mean quite alone, just him and me, the house empty, not even one servant he even told me he likes to be alone by himself, just reading, no family around or children, no conversation or friends. oh, sometimes it's just awful."
"erikki's just the same," azadeh had said. "foreigners aren't like us they're very strange. i want to spend days with friends and children and family, but erikki doesn't. it's good that erikki and tommy work during the days you're luckier, tommy's off for two weeks at a time when you can be normal. another thing, you know, sharazad, it took me months to get used to sleeping in a bed an "
"i never could! oh, so high off the floor, so easy to fall off, always a huge dip on his side, so you're always uncomfortable and you wake up with an ache in your back. a bed's so awful compared with soft quilts on beautiful carpets on the floor, so comfortable and civilized."
"yes. but erikki won't use quilts and carpets, he insists on a bed. he just won't try it anymore sometimes it's such a relief when he's away."
"oh, we sleep correctly now, azadeh. i stopped the nonsense of a western bed after the first month."
"how did you do it?"
"oh, i'd sigh all night long and keep my poor darling awake then i'd sleep during the day to be fresh again to sigh all night long." sharazad had laughed delightedly. "seven nights and my darling collapsed, slept like a baby for the next three nights correctly, and now he always sleeps like a civilized person should he even does so when he's at zagros! why don't you try it? i guarantee you'll be successful, darling, particularly if you also complain just a tiny bit that the bed has caused a backache and of course you would still adore to make love but please be a little careful."
azadeh had laughed. "my erikki's cleverer than your tommy when erikki tried the quilts on our carpet he sighed all night and turned and turned and kept me awake i was so exhausted after three nights i quite liked the bed. when i visit my family i sleep civilized, though when erikki's at the palace we use a bed. you know, darling, another problem: i love my erikki but sometimes he's so rude i almost die. he keeps saying 'yes' and 'no' when i ask him something how can you have a conversation after yes or no?"
she smiled to herself now. yes, it's very difficult living with him, but living without him now is unthinkable all his love and good humor and size and
strength and always doing what i want but only just a little too easily, so i have little chance to sharpen my wiles. "we're both very lucky, sharazad, aren't we?"
"oh, yes, darling. can you stay for a week or two even if erikki has to go back, you stay, please?"
"i'd like to. when erikki gets back... perhaps i'll ask him."
sharazad shifted in the bath, moving the bubbles over her breasts, blowing them off her hands. "mae said they'd come here from the airport if they were delayed. genny's coming straight from the apartment but not before nine i also asked paula to join us, the italian girl, but not for nogger, for charlie." she chuckled. "charlie almost swoons when she just looks at him!"
"charlie pettikin? oh, but that's wonderful. oh, that's very good. then we should help him we owe him so much! let's help him snare the sexy italian!"
"wonderful! let's plan how to give paula to him."
"as a mistress or wife?"
"mistress. well... iet me think! how old is she? she must be at least twenty-seven. do you think she'd make him a good wife? he should have a wife. all the girls tommy and i have shown him discreetly, he just smiles and shrugs i even brought my third cousin who was fifteen, thinking that would tempt him, but nothing. oh, good, now we have something to plan. we've plenty of time to plan and dress and get ready and i've some lovely dresses for you to choose from."
"it feels so strange, sharazad, not to have anything anything. money, papers..." for an instant azadeh was back in the range rover near the roadblock, and there before her was the fat-faced mujhadin who had stolen their papers, his machine gun blazing as erikki rammed him against the other car, crushing him like a cockroach, blood and filth squeezed from his mouth. "having nothing," she said, forcing the bad away, "not even a lipstick."
"never mind, i've lots of everything. and tommy'll be so pleased to have you and erikki here. he doesn't like me to be alone either. poor darling, don't worry. you're safe now."
i don't feel safe at all, azadeh told herself, hating the fear that was so alien to her whole upbringing that even now seemed to take away the warmth of the water. i haven't felt safe since we left rakoczy on the ground and even that had only lasted a moment, the ecstasy of escaping that devil me, erikki, and charlie unhurt. even the joy of finding a car with gasoline in it at the little airstrip didn't take my fear away. i hate being afraid.
she ducked down a little in the tub, then reached up and turned on the hotwater tap, swirling the hot currents.
"that feels so good," sharazad murmured, the foam heavy, and the water sensuous. "i'm so pleased you wanted to stay."
last evening, by the time azadeh, erikki, and charlie had reached mclver's apartment it was after dark. they had found gavallan there, so no room for them azadeh had been too frightened to want to stay in her father's apartment, even with erikki so she had asked sharazad if they could move in with her until lochart returned. sharazad had delightedly agreed at once, glad for the company. everything had begun to be fine and then, during dinner, there was gunfire nearby, making her jump.
"no need to worry, azadeh," mciver had said. "just a few hotheads letting off steam, celebrating probably. didn't you hear khomeini's order to lay down all arms?" everyone agreeing and sharazad saying, "the imam will be obeyed," always referring to khomeini as "the imam," almost associating him with the twelve imams of shiism the direct descendants of mohammed the prophet, near divinity surely a sacrilege: "but what the imam's accomplished is almost a miracle, isn't it?" sharazad had said with her beguiling innocence. "surely our freedom's a gift of god?"
then so warm and toasty in bed with erikki, but him strange and brooding and not the erikki she had known. "what's wrong, what's wrong?"
"nothing, azadeh, nothing. tomorrow i'll make a plan. there was no time tonight to talk to mac or gavallan. tomorrow we'll make a plan, now sleep, my darling."
twice in the night she had awakened from violent dreams, trembling and terrified, crying out for erikki.
"it's all right, azadeh, i'm here. it was only a dream, you're quite safe now."
"no, no, we're not. i don't feel safe, erikki what's happening to me? let's go back to tabriz, or let's go away, go away from these awful people."
in the mor
ning erikki had left her to join mciver and gavallan, and she had slept some more but gathered little strength from the sleep. passing the rest of the morning daydreaming or hearing sharazad's news about going to galeg morghi, or listening to the hourly crop of rumors from her servants: many more generals shot, many new arrests, the prisons burst open by mobs, western hotels set on fire or shot up. rumors of bazargan taking the reins of government, mujhadin in open rebellion in the south, kurds rebelling in the north, azerbaijan declaring independence, the nomad tribes of the kash'kai and bakhtiari throwing off the yoke of tehran; everyone laying down their arms or no one laying down their arms. rumors that prime minister bakhtiar had been captured and shot or escaped to the hills or to turkey, to america; president carter preparing an invasion or carter recognizing khomeini's government; soviet troops massing on the border ready to invade or brezhnev coming to tehran to congratulate khomeini; the shah landing in kurdistan supported by american troops or the shah dead in exile.
James Clavell - Whirlwind Page 49