James Clavell - Whirlwind

by Whirlwind(Lit)

  another silence. more jagged. the moonlight in the room faded as the moon went behind a bank of cloud. it was uneasy in the gloom. gueng who had watched and listened felt the increased disquiet and he silently called on all gods to extricate them from medusas, the pagan devil with snakes for hair that the missionaries had taught about in his first school in nepal. then his special sense felt the approaching danger, he hissed a warning and went to the window and peered out. two armed guards with a doberman pinscher on a leash were coming up the staircase opposite.

  the others were equally rigid now. they heard the guards pad along the terrace, the dog sniffing and straining on the leash. then go toward the outside door. again it creaked open. the men came into the building.

  muffled voices outside the door of the bedroom and the sound of the dog snuffling. then near the door of the anteroom. gueng and ross moved into ambush, kookris ready. in time the guards moved down the corridor, out of the building and down the staircase again. azadeh shifted nervously. "they don't come here normally. ever."

  ross whispered back hastily, "maybe they saw us coming up here. we'd better leave. if you hear firing, you don't know us. if we're still free tomorrow

  night, could we come here, say just after midnight? we could perhaps make a plan?"

  "yes," erikki said. "but make it earlier. cimtarga warned me we might have to leave before dawn. make it around 11:00 p.m. we'd better have several plans ready to get out is going to be very difficult, very."

  "how long will you be working for them before you're finished?"

  "i don't know. perhaps three or four days."

  "good. if we don't make contact with you forget us. okay?"

  "god protect you, johnny," azadeh told him anxiously. "don't trust my father, you mustn't let him... mustn't let him or them take you."

  ross smiled and it lit up the room, even for erikki. "no problem good luck to all of us." he waved a devil-may-care salute and opened the door. in a few seconds he and gueng were gone as quietly as they had arrived. erikki watched out of the window and saw them only as shadows going down the steps, noting how cleverly and silently the two men used the night, envying ross his careless elegance of manner and movement.

  azadeh was standing alongside him, a head smaller, her arm around his waist, also watching. after a moment, his arm went around her shoulders. they waited, expecting shouting and firing, but the night remained undisturbed. the moon came out from the clouds again. no movement anywhere. he glanced at his watch. it was 4:23.

  he looked at the sky, no sign of any dawn yet. at dawn he had to leave, not to the north face of sabalan but to other radar sites farther west. cimtarga had told him that the cia still operated certain sites nearer the turkish border but that today the khomeini government had ordered them closed, evacuated, and left intact. "they'll never do that," erikki had said. "never."

  "perhaps, perhaps not." cimtarga had laughed. "the moment we get orders, you and i will just fly there with my 'tribesmen' and hurry them up..."

  matyer! and matyer johnny brighteyes arriving to complicate our lives. even so, thank all gods for the warning he brought. what's abdollah planning for azadeh? i should kill that old swine and have done with it. yes, but i can't, i swore by the ancient gods an oath that may not be broken, not to touch her father as he himself swore by the one god not to hinder us though he'll find a way to break that oath. can i do the same? no. an oath is an oath. like the one you swore to her that you could live happily with her. knowing about him him didn't you? his mind blackened and he was glad of the darkness.

  so the kgb plan to kidnap me. if it's a real plan i'm done for. azadeh? what's that devil abdollah planning for her now? and now this johnny arrives to harass us all i never thought he'd be so good-looking and tough and no man to mix with, him with that sodding great knife, killing knife...

  "come back to bed, erikki," she said. "it's very cold, isn't it?"

  he nodded and followed and got in his side, greatly troubled. when they were back under the great quilt, she snuggled against him. not enough to provoke a reaction but just enough to appear normal and untouched. "how extraordinary to find it was him, erikki! john ross in the street i certainly wouldn't have recognized him. oh, that was such a long time ago, i'd forgotten all about him. i'm so pleased you married me, erikki," she said, her voice calm and loving, sure that his mind was grinding her long-lost love to dust. "i feel so safe with you if it hadn't been for you i would have died of fright." she said it as though expecting an answer. but i don't expect one, my darling, she thought contentedly and sighed.

  he heard her sigh and wondered what it meant, feeling her warmth against him, loathing the rage that possessed him. was it because she's sorry she had smiled at her lover as she did? or is she furious with me she must have seen my jealousy. or is she saddened that i have forgotten my oath, or is she hating me because i hate that man? i swear i'll exorcise him from her...

  ah, johnny brighteyes, she was thinking, what ecstasy i enjoyed in your arms, even the first time when it was supposed to hurt, but it never did. just a pain that became a burning that became a melting that tore away life and gave life back to me again, better than before, oh, how so much better than before! and then erikki...

  it was much warmer now under the quilt. her hand went across his loins. she felt him move slightly and she hid her smile, sure that her warmth was reaching him now, so easy to warm him further. but unwise. very unwise, for then she knew he would only take her with johnny in the forefront of his mind, taking her to spite johnny and not to love her perhaps even thinking that in her acquiescence she was feeling guilty and was trying to make up for her guilt. oh, no, my love, i'm not a foolish child, you're the guilty one, not me. and though you'd be stronger than usual and more rough, which would normally increase my pleasure, this time it would not, for, like it or not, i would resist even more than you, aware of my other love. so, my darling, it is ten thousand times better to wait. until the dawn. by then, my darling, if i'm lucky you will have persuaded yourself that you are wrong to hate and be jealous and you will be my erikki again. and if you haven't? then i will begin again there are ten thousand ways to heal my man. "i love you, erikki," she said and kissed the cloth that covered his chest, turned over, and settled her back against him and went into sleep, smiling.

  at kowiss air base: 8:11 a.m. freddy ayre bunched his fists. "no, by god! you heard mciver's orders: if starke's not back by dawn all flights are grounded. it's past eight o'clock and starke's not back so all fl "

  "you will obey my flight orders!" esvandiary, the iranoil manager, shouted at him, his voice echoing around the s-g base. "i've ordered you to deliver a new mud tank and pipe under guerney's contract to rig si "

  "no flying until captain starke's back!" ayre snarled. they were on the flight line near the three 212s that esvandiary had scheduled for today's operations, the three pilots geared and ready since dawn, the rest of the expats watching in varying degrees of nervousness or anger. around them were a truckload of hostile green bands and servicemen from the base who had just arrived with esvandiary. four of zataki's men squatted near the choppers but none of them had moved since the quarrel had erupted though all of them were watching closely. "all flights are grounded!" ayre repeated.

  furiously esvandiary called out in farsi, "these foreigners refuse to obey legitimate orders of iranoil." a mutter of anger went through his supporters,

  536 names clavell

  guns covered the expats, and he stabbed a finger at ayre. "they need an example!"

  without warning rough hands grabbed ayre, and the beating began. one of the pilots, sandor petrofi, rushed forward to intervene but he was shoved back, slipped, and was kicked back to the others who were helpless under the guns.

  "stop it!" pop kelly, the tall captain, shouted out, his face chalky. "leave ayre alone, we'll fly the missions!"

  "good." esvandiary told his men to stop. they dragged ayre to his feet. "get all flights under way. at once!"


  when the flights were airborne he dismissed the expats roughly. "there'll be no more mutinies against the islamic state. by god, all orders of iranoil will will be obeyed instantly." very satisfied with himself that he had put down the mutiny as he had promised the camp commandant, he strode into the main office, down the corridor into starke's office that he had commandeered, and stood at the window surveying his domain.

  he saw two choppers well away now, the third was hovering twenty feet over the mud tank a hundred yards away, waiting for the ground crew to link its skyhook into the big steel ring that topped the hawsers. in front of the of rice ayre, surrounded by other expats, was being succored by doc nutt. rotten bastard to give me so much trouble, esvandiary thought, and glanced at his watch, admiring it. it was a gold rolex that he had bought on the black market this morning as befitted his increased stature, the money pishkesh from a bazaar) who wanted his son to join iranoil.

  "do you need anything, excellency?" pavoud asked unctuously from the doorway. "may i add my congratulations for the way that you handled the foreigners. for years they've all needed a good beating to put them in their places, how wise you were."

  "yes. from now on the base will run smoothly. the moment there's a problem, whoever's in charge will be made an example of. praise god that son of a dog zataki leaves in an hour with his thugs for abadan."

  "that's one flight that will leave on time, excellency." both men laughed.

  "yes. bring me some tea, pavoud." deliberately esvandiary left out the normal politeness and noted the man's humility increase. he stared out of the window again. doc nutt was dabbing a cut over ayre's eye. i enjoyed watching freddy being beaten, he thought. yes, yes, i did.

  in the chill wind doc nutt had wrapped a spare parka around ayre. "you'd better come over to the surgery, laddie," he said.

  "i'm all right," ayre said, hurting all over. "don't think... don't think anything's damaged."

  "bastards," someone said. "freddy, we'd better figure how we're going to get to hell out of here."

  "it's me on the first plane out... i'm not going to risk an "

  they all looked off as the jet engines of the chopper hovering over the mud tank picked up tempo. getting such a heavy load airborne was tricky particularly in this wind but no problem for a professional like sandor. the hook went in first time and the moment the ground crew had their hands clear, he increased power, the engines screamed at a higher pitch, taking the strain, then chopper and load eased into the sky. the guard in the front seat beside sandor waved excitedly as did the one in the cabin.

  "you're doing fine, captain... no sweat," came into sandor's headphones from wazari in their tower, sandor estimating the distance, gaining height, his hands and feet perfectly coordinated seeing only esvandiary at the office window, still maddened by ayre's savage beating by many armed men at the orders of a coward. it took him back in time to his childhood in budapest during the hungarian revolution. he had been helpless then but not now.

  "you're okay, hfd, but kinda close." wazari's voice cautioned him. "you're kinda close, ease south..."

  sandor increased power, moving toward the tower that topped the office building. "is the load okay?" he asked. "feels strange."

  "looks fine, no sweat, but ease south as you climb. everything five by five... ease south, do you read me?"

  "you sure, for crissake? she feels sluggish as all hell..." the needle climbed through a hundred feet. sandor's face closed and his hand snapped the stick right, at the same time he gave her hard right rudder. at once the chopper reeled sickeningly, the guard in the seat beside him was thrown off balance; he bashed against the door, then grabbed sandor, trying to steady himself, and tangled with the controls. again sandor overcorrected, cursing the guard as though the petrified man was a real hazard.

  for a moment it seemed that the gathering swing would take the chopper out of the sky, then sandor shoved the frantic guard away. "mayday load's shifted," he shouted, his ears shut to wazari, eyes concentrating below, oblivious of everything except the need for revenge. "load's shifted!"

  his hand pulled the emergency load release, the hook freed, the steel tank plummeted out of the sky directly onto the office. the ton and a half of steel smashed through the roof, pulverising rafters and walls and glass and metal and desks, obliterating the whole corner, and came to rest upended against the remains of the inner wall.

  a moment of appalled silence took the whole camp, then the screaming engines filled the sky as, released suddenly from its load, the chopper had careened upward out of control. sandor's reflexes fought the controls, his mind not caring whether he dominated them or not, whether he landed or not, just knowing that he had had vengeance on one brute. beside him the guard was

  vomiting and his earphones were filled with, "jesuschrist... jesuschrist..." from the tower.

  "christ, look outttttt!" someone shouted as the chopper whirled down at them. everyone scattered but sandor's reflexes cut engines and went for the impossible emergency landing. the skids hacked into the snow of the grass verge, did not buckle, and the chopper skeetered forward to come to rest unharmed forty yards away.

  ayre was the first at the cockpit. he jerked the door open. sandor was sheet white, numb, staring ahead. "load shifted..." he croaked.

  "yes," was all ayre could say, knowing it to be a lie, then others joined them and they helped sandor, his limbs momentarily uncontrollable, out of the cockpit. behind him, near the building, ayre saw green bands gaping at the wreckage, then pavoud and the other clerk totter out of the front door in shock, the window and corner where esvandiary had been standing was rubble. doc nutt pushed through the crowd and hurried toward the ruins as wazari came down the emergency steps outside the tower that were twisted precariously, half off the side of the building. christ, ayre thought, wazari must've seen everything. he knelt beside his friend. "you all right, sandy?"

  "no," sandor said shakily. "i think i went crazy. i couldn't stop."

  wazari was shoving through the people toward the cockpit, still panicked from seeing the tank hurtling down on him, knowing the pilot had deliberately disregarded his instructions. "you crazy, god damnit?" he exploded at sandor over the wind-down scream of the engines.

  ayre's temper snapped. "goddamnit, the load shifted! we all saw it and so did you!"

  "you're goddamn right i saw it and so did you." wazari's eyes were frantically darting this way and that, watching for green bands, but none were near then he saw zataki approaching from one of the bungalows. his dread escalated. he was still badly bruised from the beating zataki had given him, his nose mashed, his mouth still aching where three teeth had been knocked out, and he knew he would admit anything to prevent another beating. he knelt beside sandor, half pulling ayre with him. "listen," he whispered desperately, "you swear by god you'll help me? you promise, huh?"

  "i said i'd do what i could!" angrily ayre jerked his arm away, the pain of bending very bad. he stood upright and found he was looking into zataki's face. the suddenness chilled him and the eyes. everyone else had backed away from them.

  "pilot, you did that to kill esvandiary. eh?"

  sandor stared up at him from the snow. "the load shifted, colonel."

  zataki put his eyes on ayre who remembered what doc nutt had said about the man, his own head aching, his groin, and pain everywhere. "the, er, the

  operation's difficult, it was the wind. the load shifted. an act of god, excellency..."

  wazari went back a pace as zataki turned on him. "it's true, excellency," he said at once. "the winds aloft're gust " he cried out as zataki's fist rammed into his stomach and he doubled up in agony, then zataki grabbed him and shoved him against the chopper. "now tell me the truth, vermin!"

  "it's the truth," wazari whimpered, barely able to talk through his nausea. "it's the truth! it was insha'allah!" he saw zataki's fist ready again and he cried out in a jumble of farsi and english, "if you hit me i'll say anything you want, anything, i can't stand another
beating and i'll swear to anything you want, anything, but the load shifted by god, the load shifted, i swear by god the load shifted..."

  zataki stared at him. "god will put you into the fiery vats for all eternity if you've sworn a lie by his name," he said. "you swear it was god's will alone? that the load shifted? you swear it was an act of god?"

  "yes, yes, i swear it!" wazari was trembling, helpless in his grasp. he tried to keep his eyes guileless, knowing that his only chance for life lay with ayre, proving his value to him. "i swear by god and the prophet it was an accident, an... an act of god. insha'allah..."

  "as god wants." zataki nodded, absolved, and released him. wazari slid to the snow, retching, and all the others were thanking god or joss or heaven or karma that, for the moment, this crisis had passed. zataki jerked a thumb at the wreckage. "get what remains of esvandiary out of there."

  "yes... yes, at once," ayre said.

  "unless the captain returns, you will fly me and my men to bandar delam." zataki walked off. his green bands went with him.