James Clavell - Whirlwind

by Whirlwind(Lit)

  "sharazad, listen to me... sharazad, listen! for christsake listen!"

  but she just leaned against him, gibbeting and moaning. he carried her into the stuffy inner room, windows tight shut and shutters closed, and forced her to sit on the unmade bed, then rushed into the bathroom that was modern most of the plumbing modern except the toilet.

  no hot water. the cold water ran and it did not seem too brackish. he found some towels and soaked one and went back again, his chest hurting, knowing he was out of his depth. she had not moved. he tried to wash her face but she resisted and began to blubber, making herself even more ugly. saliva seeped out of the sides of her mouth.

  "sharazad... sharazad, my darling, for the love of god, my darling..." he lifted her and held her closer but nothing touched her. only the moans remained constant, pushing him nearer and nearer his limit. "get hold of yourself," he said helplessly out loud, and got up, but her hands caught his clothes and tried to drag him back.

  "oh, god give me strength..." he saw his hand smash her across the face.

  for a moment the moaning stopped, she stared at him incredulously, then her eyes went blank again, the gibberish started once more, and she clawed at his clothes. "god help me," he said brokenly, then began to smack her face, harder and harder, open-handed, desperately trying to be hard but not too hard and then he shoved her face downward on the bed and belted her hard on the buttocks, hit her till his palm ached and hand ached and all at once he heard screams that were real screams and not gibberish: "tommyyyy... stop oh please tommy please stopppppp... tommy, you're hurting me what have i done? i swear i've not thought about anyone oh god tommy please stopppp..."

  he stopped. sweat was in his eyes, his clothes wringing, and he stumbled panting off the bed. she was writhing in pain, her buttocks scarlet and face scarlet, but her tears were real tears now and her eyes her own now and her brain her own.

  "oh, tommyyyyy, you hurt me, you hurt me," she sobbed as a whipped child would sob. "whyyyyy? whyyyy? i swear i love you... i've never done anything... anything to... to hurt you and make you... make you hurt me..." racked with pain and shame that she had enraged him, not understanding why but only that she must help him out of his rage, she crawled off the bed and fell at his feet, begging his forgiveness through her tears.

  her tears stopped as her mind flooded with reality and she looked up at him. "oh, tommy," she said brokenly, "father's dead... murdered... murdered by green bands... murdered..."

  "yes... yes, my darling, i know, oh, i know... i'm so sorry..."

  he lifted her up and his tears mixed with hers and he held her tight and gave her of his strength and made her whole as she gave him of her strength and made him whole. then they slept fitfully waking sometimes, but sleeping again peacefully, gathering life, the flame of the oil lamp casting kind shadows. just before midnight he awoke. her eyes were watching him. tentatively she moved to kiss him but a shaft of pain stopped her.

  "oh, you all right?" his arms at once around her.

  "oh, be careful... sorry, yes... it's..." painfully she tried to look at her back, then found she was in soiled clothes. she grimaced. "ugh, these clothes, please excuse me, my darling..." she stood awkwardly and tore them off. painfully she picked up the damp towel and cleaned her face and brushed her hair. then, when she went closer to the light, he saw that one of her eyes was already slightly black and her buttocks badly bruised. "please forgive me... what did i... i do to offend you?"

  "nothing, nothing," he said appalled, and told her how he had found her.

  she stared at him blankly. "but... you say that i... i don't remember any of that only... only being... only being beaten."

  "i'm so sorry but it was the only way i could... i'm so sorry."

  "oh, i'm not, not now, my darling." trying to recollect she came back and carefully lay on the bed on her stomach. "but for you... as god wants but if i was as you say... strange, and i remember nothing, nothing from the time 1..." her voice broke a little, then she continued, trying to be hum, "but for you, perhaps i would have been mad forever." she squirmed closer and kissed him. "i love you, beloved," she said in farsi.

  "i love you, beloved," he told her, possessed.

  after a moment she said in a strange voice, "tommy, i think what sent me mad... i saw father... saw him yesterday, the day before... i can't remember... was that he looked so small dead, so tiny, dead, with all those holes in him, in his face and head i never remembered him so small but they had made him small, they'd taken away his..."

  "don't," he said, gently, seeing the tears brimming. "it's insha'allah. don't think about it."

  "certainly, husband, if you say so," she said at once, formally, in farsi. "of course it's as god wants, yes, but it's important for me to tell you, to remove the shame from me, you finding me like this... i would like to tell you one day."

  "then tell me now, sharazad, and we can put it behind us forever," he told her, equally formally. "please tell me now."

  "it was that they had made the biggest man in the world after you had made him insignificant. for no reason. he was always against the shah when he could be and a great supporter of this mullah khomeini." she said it calmly and he heard the word "mullah" and not ayatollah or imam or farmandeh and a warning rushed through him. "they murdered my father for no reason without trial and outside the law and made him small, they took away everything that he had as a man, a father, as a beloved father. as god wants, i should say and i will try. but i cannot believe it is what god wants. it may be what khomeini wants. i don't know. we women will soon find out."

  "what? what do you mean?"

  "in three days we women march in protest all the women of tehran."

  "against what?"

  "against khomeini and mullahs who are against women's rights when he sees us marching without chador he will not do what is wrong."

  lochart was half listening, remembering her a few days ago was it only a few days ago that all this nightmare began.9 sharazad so content with herself and wearing chador, so happy to be just wife and not a modern like azadeh. he saw her eyes and read her resolve and knew that she had committed herself. "i don't want you to take part in this protest."

  "yes, of course, husband, but every woman in tehran will march and i am

  sure you would not wish me shamed before the memory of my father against the representatives of his murderers, would you?"

  "it's a waste of time," lochart said, knowing he was going to lose but impelled onward. "i'm afraid, my love, a protest march of every woman in iran or all islam will not touch khomeini a little bit. women in his islamic state will have nothing not granted in the koran, nothing. nor will anyone else. he's inflexible isn't that his strength?"

  "of course you are right but we will march in protest and then god will open his eyes and make all clear to him. it's as god wants, not as khomeini wants in iran we have historic ways of dealing with such men."

  his arms were around her. marching is not the answer, he thought. oh, sharazad, there's so much to decide, to say, to tell, now not the time. but there's zagros and a 212 to ferry out. but that leaves mac alone to carry the ball, if there's a ball to carry. what if i took him too? i couldn't, unless by force. "sharazad, i might have a ferry to do. to take a 212 to nigeria. would you come too?"

  "of course, tommy. how long would we be gone?"

  he hesitated. "a few weeks perhaps longer." he felt her change in his arms, imperceptibly.

  "when would you want to leave?"

  "very soon. perhaps tomorrow."

  she moved out of his embrace without moving. "i wouldn't be able to leave mother, not for a while. she's... she's torn apart with grief, tommy, and... and if i went i'd be afraid for her. and then there's poor meshang he has to run the business, he has to be helped there's so much to do and to look after."

  "do you know about the confiscation order?"

  "what order?"

  he told her. tears filled her eyes again and she sat up, her pain for th
e moment forgotten. she stared at the oil flame and at the shadows it cast. "then we've no home, nothing. as god wants," she said dully. then almost at once in a different voice, "no, not as god wants! as green bands want. now we have to join together to save the family, otherwise they will have beaten father we cannot allow them to murder him and then beat him as well, that would be terrible."

  "yes, i agree, but this ferry'd solve our problems for a few weeks..."

  "you're right, tommy, as always, yes, yes, it would if we needed to leave but this is our home just as much if not more, oh, how happy we'll be here! in the morning i will get servants and bring everything of ours from the apartment pain! what are a few carpets and trinkets when we have this house

  and ourselves. i will arrange everything oh, we will be happy here."

  "but if y "

  "this theft makes it even more important for us to be here, to resist, to protest it makes the march, oh, so much more important." she put a finger on his lips as she saw him start to speak. "if you must do this ferry and of course you must do your work then go, my darling, but hurry back quickly. in a few weeks tehran will be normal and kind again and i know that is what god wants."

  oh, yes, she thought confidently, her happiness overcoming the pain, by then it will be my second month and tommy will be so proud of me and meanwhile it will be wonderful to live here, surrounded by family, father avenged, the house filled with laughter again. "everyone will help us," she said, lying back in his arms, so tired but so happy. "oh, tommy, i'm so glad you're home, we're home, it will be so wonderful, tommy." her words became slower as waves of sleep washed over her. "we'll all help meshang... and those abroad will come back, aunt annoush and the children... they'll help... and uncle valik will guide meshang..."

  lochart did not have the heart to tell her.

  sunday february 18

  at the khan's palace, tabriz: 3:13 a.m. in the darkness of the small room captain ross opened the leather cover of his watch and peered at the luminous figures. "all set, gueng?" he whispered in gurkhali.

  "yes, sahib," gueng whispered, glad that the waiting was over.

  carefully and quietly both men got off their pallets that lay on old, smelly carpets on the hard-packed, earthen floor. they were fully dressed, and ross picked his way across to the window and peered out. their guard was slumped down beside the door, fast asleep, his rifle in his lap. two hundred yards away beyond the snow-covered orchards and outbuildings was the four-story palace of the gorgon khan. the night was dark and cold with some clouds, a nimbus around the moon that came through brightly from time to time.

  more snow, he thought, then eased the door open. both men stood there, searching the darkness with all their senses. no lights anywhere. noiselessly ross moved over to the guard and shook him but the man did not wake from the drugged sleep that was good for at least two hours. it had been easy to give him the drug in a piece of chocolate, kept for just that purpose in their survival kit some of the chocolate drugged, some poisoned. once more

  concentrated on the night, waiting patiently for the moon to go behind a cloud. absently he scratched at the bite of a bedbug. he was armed with his kookri, and one grenade. "if we're stopped, gueng, we're only going for a stroll," he had told him earlier. "better to leave our weapons here. why have kookris and one grenade? it's an old gurkha custom an offense against our regiment to be unarmed."

  "i think i would like to take all our weapons now and slip back into the mountains and make our way south, sahib."

  "if this doesn't work, we'll have to but it's a rotten gamble," ross had said. "it's a rotten gamble. we'll be trapped in the open those hunters're still searching and they won't give up till we're caught. don't forget we only just made it to the safe house. it was only the clothes that saved us." after the ambush where vien rosemont and tenzing had been killed, he and gueng had stripped some of their attackers and put tribesmen's robes over their uniforms. he had considered dumping their uniforms entirely but thought that unwise. "if we're caught we're caught and that's the end of it."

  gueng had grinned. "therefore better you become a good hindu now. then if we get killed, it's not an end but a beginning."

  "how do i do that, gueng? become a hindu?" he smiled wryly, remembering the perplexed look on gueng's face and the vast shrug. then they had tidied the bodies of vien rosemont and tenzing and left them together in the snow according to the custom of the high lands: "this body has no more value to the spirit, and because of the immutability of rebirth, it is bequeathed to the animals and to the birds that are other spirits struggling in their own karma toward nirvana the place of heavenly peace."

  the next morning they had spotted those who followed relentlessly. when they came down out of the hills into the outskirts of tabriz, their pursuers were barely half a mile behind. only their camouflage had saved them, allowing them to be lost in the crowds, many tribesmen as tall as he and with blue eyes, many as well armed. more luck was with them and he had found the back door of the filthy little garage the first time, used vien rosemont's name, and the man there had hidden them. that night abdollah khan had come with his guards, very hostile and suspicious. "who told you to ask for me?"

  "vien rosemont. he also told us about this place."

  "who is this rosemont? where is he now?"

  ross had told him what had happened at the ambush and noticed something new behind the man's eyes now, even though he remained hostile.

  "how do i know you're telling me the truth? who are you?"

  "before vien died he asked me to give you a message he was delirious and his dying bad, but he made me repeat it three times to make sure. he said: 'tell abdollah khan that peter's after the gorgon's head and peter's son is

  worse than peter. the son plays with curds and whey and so does the father who'll try to use a medusa to catch the gorgon.'" he saw the other man's eyes light up at once but not happily. "so it means something to you?"

  "yes. it means you know vien. so vien's dead. as god wants, but that's a pity. vien was good, very good, and a great patriot. who are you? what was your mission? what were you doing in our mountains?"

  again he hesitated, remembering that armstrong had told him at his briefing not to trust this man too far. yet rosemont whom he had trusted had said in his dying, "you can trust that old bastard with your life. i have, half a dozen times, and he's never failed me. go to him, he'll get you out..."

  abdollah khan was smiling, his mouth cruel like his eyes. "you can trust me i think you have to."

  "yes." but not very far at all, he added silently, loathing the word, the word that costs millions their lives, more millions their freedom and every adult on earth peace of mind at some time or another. "it was to neutralise sabalan," he said and told him what had happened there.

  "god be praised! i will pass word to wesson and talbot."

  "who?"

  "ah, doesn't matter. i'll get you south. come with me, it's not safe here the hue and cry's out, with a reward, for 'two british saboteurs, two enemies of islam.' who are you?"

  "ross. captain ross and this is sergeant gueng. who were the men chasing us? iranians or soviets? or soviet-led?"

  "soviets don't operate openly in my azerbaijan not yet." the khan's lips twisted into a strange smile. "i have a station wagon outside. get into it quickly and lie down in the back. i'll hide you and when it's safe, get you both back to tehran but you have to obey my orders. explicitly."

  that was two days ago, but then the coming of the soviet strangers and the arrival of the helicopter had made everything different. he saw the moon go behind a cloud and he tapped gueng on the shoulder. the small man vanished into the orchard. when the all-clear signal came out of the night, he followed. they leapfrogged each other, moving very well until they were beside the corner of the north wing of the great house. no guards or guard dogs yet though gueng had seen some doberman pinschers chained up.

  it was an easy climb up a balustrade to the first-floor balcony. gueng l
ed. he hurried down half its length, passed the corridor of shuttered windows to the staircase that climbed to the next balcony. at the top he waited, getting his bearings. ross came alongside. gueng pointed at the second set of windows and took out his kookri but ross shook his head and motioned to a side door that he had noticed, deep in shadow. he tried the handle. the door squeaked loudly. some night birds skeetered out of the orchard, calling to one another.

  both men concentrated on where the birds had come from, expecting to see a patrol. none appeared. another moment to make sure, then ross led the way inside, adrenaline heightening his tension.

  the corridor was long, many doors either side, some windows to the south. outside the second door he stopped, warily tried the handle. this door opened silently and he went in quickly, gueng following, his kookri out and grenade ready. the room seemed to be an anteroom carpets, lounging pillows, oldfashioned victorian furniture and sofas. two doors led off it. praying it was the correct choice, ross opened the door nearest the corner of the building and went in. the curtains were drawn but a crack of moonlight to one side showed them the bed clearly and the man he sought and a woman asleep there under the thick quilt. it was the right man but he had not expected a woman. gueng eased the door closed. without hesitation they went to either side of the bed, ross taking the man and gueng the woman. simultaneously they clapped the bunched handkerchiefs over the mouths of the sleepers, holding them down with just enough pressure under their noses to keep them from crying out.