"seems they all had a huge row. she was very shook. i asked her to forget her iranian papers and get on the 125 and wait for erikki in al shargaz, but that went down like a lead balloon. she won't move till erikki reappears. i pointed out the khan's a law unto himself he can reach into tehran and kidnap her back too easily if he wants. she said, 'insha'allah."'
"erikki'll be okay. i'd bet on that." starke was confident. "his ancient godstll guard him."
"hope so." gavallan had kept his parka on. even so he was still feeling cold. out of the window he could see the fueling still continuing. "how about a cuppa before i leave?"
"sure." starke went to the kitchen. above the sink was a mirror and over the butane stove opposite was an old, worn needlepoint mounted in frame that a friend in falls church had given to manuela as a wedding present: screw home cooking. he smiled, remembering how they had laughed when they had got it, then noticed the reflection of gavallan in the mirror brooding at the map. i must be crazy, he thought, zeroing back to six days and two choppers. how the hell're we gonna clean out the base and still keep ourselves in one piece 'cause andy's right that one way or another we're finished here. i must be crazy to volunteer. but what the hell? you can't ask one of your guys to volunteer if you don't do it yourself. yeah, bu
there was a knock on the front door and it opened immediately. freddy ayre said softly, "hotshot's heading this way with a green band."
"come on in, freddy, and shut the door," starke said. they waited in silence. an imperious knock. he opened the door, saw the arrogant sneer on esvandiary, instantly recognising the young green band as one of the mullah hussain's men and also a member of the komiteh at his questioning. "salaam," he said politely.
"salaam, agha," the green band said with a shy smile. he had thick, cracked glasses and threadbare clothes and an m16.
abruptly, starke's mind went into overload and he heard himself say, "mr. gavallan, i think you know hotshot."
"my name's esvandiary mr. esvandiary!" the man said angrily. "how many times do you have to be told? gavallan, it would help your operation greatly to get rid of this man before we throw him out as an undesirable!"
gavallan flushed at the rudeness. "now just a minute, captain starke's the best capt "
"you're hotshot, you're also a sonofabitch'" starke exploded, bunching his fists, suddenly so dangerous that ayre and gavallan were aghast, esvandiary backed off a foot, and the young green band gaped. "you've always been hotshot and i'd call you esvandiary or whatever goddamn name you want but for what you did to captain ayre. you're a sonofabitch with no balls and need pasting and before you're very much older you're gonna get it!"
"i'll have you before the komiteh tom "
"you're a yellow-bellied eater of camel dung, so go blow it outta your ass." contemptuously starke turned to the green band who was still gaping at him, and without missing a beat, switched to farsi, his voice now polite and deferential. "excellency, i told this dog," he jerked his thumb rudely at esvandiary, "that he is an eater of camel dung, with no courage, who needs men with guns
to protect him while he orders other men to beat and threaten unarmed peaceful members of my tribe against the law, who will not..."
choked with rage, esvandiary tried to interrupt but starke overrode him, "... who will not stand against me as a man with knife or sword or gun or fist according to custom among the bedouin to avoid a family blood feud, and according to my custom also."
"blood feud? you've gone mad! in the name of god, what blood feud? blood feudstre against the law..." esvandiary shouted and continued the tirade, gavallan and ayre watching helplessly, not understanding farsi and completely thrown by starke's outburst.
but the young green band closed his ears to esvandiary, then held up his hand, still awed by starke and his knowledge and not a little envious. "please, excellency esvandiary," he said, his eyes magnified by the thickness of the old, cracked lenses, and when there was quiet he said to starke, "you claim the ancient right of blood feud against this man?"
starke could feel his heart pumping, and he heard himself say firmly, "yes," knowing it was a dangerous gamble but he had to take it, "yes."
"how can an infidel claim such a right?" esvandiary said furiously. "this is not the saudi desert, our laws forbid blo "
"i claim that right!"
"as god wants," the green band said and looked at esvandiary. "perhaps this man is not an infidel, not truly. this man can claim what he likes, excellency."
"are you mad? of course he's an infidel and don't you know blood feuds're against the law. you fool, it's against the law, it's ag "
"you're not a mullah!" the youth said, angry now. "you're not a mullah to say what is the law and what isn't! shut your mouth! i'm no illiterate peasant, i can read and write and i'm a member of the komiteh to keep the peace here and now you threaten the peace." he glared at esvandiary who once more backed off. "i will ask the komiteh and mullah hussain," he said to starke. "there is little chance that they would agree but... as god wants. i agree the law is the law and that a man does not need other men with guns to beat unarmed innocents against the law or even to punish the evil, however evil, only the strength of god. i leave you to god." he turned to go.
"a moment, agha," starke said. he reached over and took a spare parka that hung on a hook beside the still-open door. "here," he said, offering the coat, "please accept this small gift."
"i could not possibly do that," the youth said, eyes wide and filled with longing.
"please, excellency, it is so insignificant that it hardly bears noticing."
esvandiary began to say something but stopped as the youth looked over at
him, then again turned his attention to starke. "i could not possibly accept it it is so rich and i could not possibly accept it from his excellency."
"please," starke said patiently, continuing the formality, then at length held the coat up for the youth to slip on.
"well, if you insist..." the youth said, pretending reluctance. he gave ayre the m16 while he slipped into the coat, the others not knowing quite what was going on, except esvandiary who watched and waited, swearing revenge. "it is wonderful," the youth said, zipping it up, feeling warm for the first time in many months. never in all his life had he had such a coat. "thank you, agha." he saw the look on esvandiary's face and his disgust for him increased wasn't he just accepting pishkesh as was his right? "i shall try to persuade the komiteh to grant the right his excellency asks," he said, then contentedly went off into the gloaming.
at once starke whirled on esvandiary. "now what the hell did you want?"
"many pilots' licenses and resident permitstre out of date an "
"no british or american pilot's license's out of date only iranian and they're automatic if the others are okay! of course they're out of date! haven't your offices been closed for months pull your head out of your ass!"
esvandiary went beet red and the moment he started to reply, starke turned his back on him and looked directly at gavallan for the first time. "it's clearly impossible to operate here any longer, mr. gavallan you've seen it for yourself now, we're harassed, freddy here was beaten, we're overruled, and there's no way we can work with this sort of crap. i think you should close down the base for a couple of months. at once!" he added.
gavallan suddenly understood. "i agree," he said and grabbed the initiative. starke sighed with relief, pushed past, and sat down with pretended sullenness, heart racing in his chest. "i'm closing the base at once. we'll send all our choppers and personnel elsewhere. freddy, get five men overdue leave and put them aboard the 125 right now with their luggage, right now an "
"you can't close down the base," esvandiary snarled. "nor can y "
"it's closed, by god," gavallan said, working himself into a towering rage. "they're my aircraft and my personnel and we're not going to suffer all this harassment and beating. freddy, who's overdue leave?"
blankly ayre began to give names and esvandiary was in
shock. to close down the base did not suit him at all. wasn't minister ali kia visiting here on thursday and wasn't he then going to offer him an extraordinary pishkesh? if the base was closed that would ruin all his plans.
"you can't take our helicopters out of this area without my approval," he shouted. "they're iranian property!"
"they're the property of the joint venture when they're paid for," gavallan shouted back, more than a little imposing in rage. "i'm going to complain to
higher authority you're interfering with the imam's direct order to get production back to normal. you are! y "
"you're forbidden to close down. i'll have the komiteh put starke in jail for mutiny if y "
"balderdash! starke, i'm ordering you to close the base down. hotshot, you seem to forget we're well connected. i'll complain directly to minister ali kia. he's adviser to our board now and he'll deal with you and iranoil!"
esvandiary blanched. "minister kia's on... on the... on the board?"
"yes, yes, he is." for a split second gavallan was nonplussed. he had used kia'sname as the only one he knew in the present government and was astonished at the impact it had had on esvandiary. but hardly missing a beat, he pressed home his advantage. "my close friend ali kia will deal with all this! and with you. you're a traitor to iran! freddy, get five men aboard the 125 right now! and starke, send every aircraft we have to bandar delam at first light at first light!"
"yes sir!"
"wait," esvandiary said, seeing his whole plan in ruins. "there's no need to close down the base, mr. gavallan. there may have been misunderstandings, mostly due to petrofi and that man zataki. i wasn't responsible for that beating, it wasn't me!" he forced his voice to be reasonable but inside he wanted to shout with rage and see them all in jail, flogged and screaming for mercy they would never get. "no reason to close the base down, mr. gavallan. flying can stay normal!"
"it's closed," gavallan said imperiously and glanced at starke for guidance. "much as i'm against it."
"yessing you're right." starke was very deferential. "of course you can close the base. we can redeploy the choppers or mothball them. bandar delam needs an immediate 212 for... for the iran-toda contract. perhaps we could send 'em one of ours, and close down the rest."
esvandiary said quickly, "mr. gavallan, work is getting more normal every day. the revolution is successful and over, the imam in charge. the komitehs... the komitehs'll soon disappear. there'll be all the guerney contracts to service, double the number of 212s needed. as to overdue license renewals insha'allah! we will wait thirty days. no need to close operations. no need to be hasty, mr. gavallan, you've been on this base a long time, you've a big investment here an "
"i know what our investment is," gavallan snapped with real anger, hating the unctuous undercurrent. "very well, captain starke, i'll take your advice and by god you'd better be right. put two men on the 125 tonight, their replacements will be back next week. send the 212 to bandar delam tomorrow how long is she to be on loan?"
"six days, sir, back next sunday."
gavallan said to esvandiary, "she'll come back, pending an improved situation here."
"the 212 is ours... the 212 is the base's equipment, mr. gavallan," esvandiary corrected himself quickly. "we carry it on our manifests. it will have to come back. as to personnel, the rule is that incoming pilots and mechanics arrive first to replace those going on leave an "
"then we're going to bend the rules mister esvandiary or i close the base now," gavallan said curtly and held on to his hope. "starke, put two men on the plane tonight, all but a skeleton staff on the thursday flight, and we'll send her back with full replacements on friday, pending the situation coming back to normal."
starke saw esvandiary's rage returning so he said quickly, "we're not allowed to fly on holy day, sir. the full crew should come first thing saturday morning." he glanced at esvandiary. "don't you agree?"
for a moment esvandiary thought he was going to explode, his pent-up rage almost overcoming his resolve. "if you... if you apologize for the foul names and your foul manners."
there was a big silence, the door still open, the room chill, but starke felt the sweat on his back as he weighed his answer. they had achieved so much if whirlwind was to come to pass but esvandiary was no fool and a quick acquiescence would make him suspicious, as a refusal might jeopardize their gains. "i apologise for nothing but i will call you mr. esvandiary in future," he said.
without a word esvandiary turned on his heel and stormed off. starke closed the door, his shirt under his sweater sticking to him.
"what the hell was all that about, duke?" ayre said angrily. "are you bankers?"
"just a moment, freddy," gavallan said. "duke, will hotshot go along with it?"
"i... i don't know." starke sat down, his knees trembling. "jesus."
"if he does... if he does... duke, you were brilliant! it was a brilliant idea, brilliant."
"you caught the ball, andy, you made the touchdown."
"if it is a touchdown." gavallan wiped the sweat off his own brow. he began to explain to ayre, stopped as the phone rang.
"hello? this's starke... sure, hang on... andy, it's the tower. mciver's on the hf for you. wazari asks if you want to go over right away or call him back mciver says to tell you he's gotten a message from a guy called avisyard."
* * *
in the control room, gavallan touched the send switch, almost sick with worry, wazari watching him, another english-speaking green band as attentive. "yes, captain mciver?"
"evening, mr. gavallan, glad i caught you." mciver's voice was heavy with static and noncommittal. "how do you read?"
"three by five, captain mciver, go ahead."
"i've just got a telex from liz chen. it says: 'please forward to mr. gavallan the following telex, dated 25 feb., just arrived: "your request is approved, [signed] masson avisyard." a copy has gone to al shargaz.' message ends."
for a moment gavallan did not believe his ears. "approved?"
"yes. i repeat: 'your request is approved.' telex's signed masson avisyard. what should i reply?"
gavallan was hard put to keep the glow off his face. masson was the name of his friend in the aviation registration office in london and the "request" was to put all their iranian-based helicopters temporarily back onto british registry. "lust acknowledge it, captain mciver."
"we can proceed with planning."
"yes. i agree. i'm off in a couple of minutes, is there anything else?"
"not for the moment just routine. i'll bring captain starke up to date tonight at our regular time. very glad about masson, happy landings."
"thanks, mac, and you." gavallan clicked off the switch and handed the mike back to young sergeant wazari. he had noticed the bad bruising, broken nose, and that some of his teeth were missing. but he said nothing. what was there to say, "thank you, sergeant?"
wazari motioned out of the windows at the apron below where the refueling crew had started winding in the long hoses. "she's all gassed,'s " he just stopped the automatic "sir."
"we'veer, we've no runway lights operating so you'd best be aboard soon as possible."
"thank you." gavallan felt almost light-headed as he walked for the stairs. the interbase hf crackled into life. "this's the base commander. put mr. gavallan on."
at once wazari clicked the send switch. "yessing" nervously he handed the mike to gavallan whose caution had soared. "he's maj sorry, he's now colonel changiz."
"yes, colonel? andrew gavallan."
"aliens are forbidden to use the hf for code messages who is masson avisyard?"
"a design engineer," gavallan said. it was the first thought that came into his head. watch yourself, this bastard's clever. "i certainly wasn't tr "
"what was your 'request' and who is..." there was a slight pause and muffled voices. "... who is liz chen?"
"liz chen is my secretary, colonel. my request was to..." to what? he wanted to shout, then all at once the answer came to
him. "... to confine seating to a configuration six rows of two seats either side of a gangway of a new chopper, the x63. the manufacturers wanted a different configuration but our engineers believe that this six by four would enhance safety and make for speedy exit in case of emergency. it would also save money and'm "
"yes, very well," the colonel interrupted him testily. "i repeat, the hf is not to be used except with prior approval until the emergency is over, and certainly not for code. your refueling is completed, you're cleared for immediate takeoff. tomorrow's landing to pick up the body of the zagros casualty is not approved. echotangolimalima may land monday between 1100 and 1200, subject to confirm by hq that will be sent to kish radar. good night."
"but we already have tehran's formal approval, sir. my pilot gave it to your landing chief the moment he arrived."
James Clavell - Whirlwind Page 98