she had not said that she preferred to be away from him and charlie pettikin. i like them both dearly, she thought, but they're rather old and pedantic and nothing like erikki. or johnny. ah, johnny, what to do about you, dare i see you again?
the third landing was dark but she had the flashlight and found her key, put
it in the lock, felt eyes on her, and whirled in fright. the swarthy, unshaven lout had his pants open and he waved his stiff penis at her. "i've been waiting for you, princess of all whores, and god curse me if it's not ready for you front or back or sideways..." he came forward mouthing obscenities and she backed against the door in momentary terror, grabbed the key, turned it, and flung the door open.
the doberman guard dog was there. the man froze. an ominous growl, then the dog charged. in panic the man screamed and tried to beat the dog off, then took to his heels down the steps, the dog growling and snarling and ripping at his legs and back, tearing his clothes, and azadeh shouted after him, "now show it to me!"
"oh, highness, i didn't hear you knock, what's going on?" the old manservant called out, rushing from the kitchen area.
angrily she wiped the perspiration off her face and told him. "god curse you, ali, i've told you twenty times to meet me downstairs with the dog. i'm on time, i'm always on time. have you no brains?"
the old man apologised but a rough voice behind her cut him short. "go and get the dog!" she looked around. her stomach twisted.
"good evening, highness." it was ahmed dursak, tall, bearded, chilling, standing in the doorway of the living room. insha'allah, she thought. the waiting is over and now it begins again. "good evening, ahmed."
"highness, please excuse me, i didn't realize about people in tehran or i would have waited downstairs myself. ali, get the dog!"
afraid and still mumbling apologies, the servant scuttled down the stairs. ahmed closed the door and watched azadeh use the heel fork to take off her boots, slip her small feet into curved turkish slippers. she went past him into the comfortable, western-style living room and sat down, her heart thumping. a fire flickered in the grate. priceless carpets, others used as wall hangings. beside her was a small table. on the table was the kookri that ross had left her. "you have news of my father and my husband?"
"his highness the khan is ill, very ill an "
"what illness?" azadeh asked, at once genuinely concerned.
"a heart attack."
"god protect him when did this happen?"
"on thursday last." he read her thought. "that was the day you and... and the saboteur were in the village of abu mard. wasn't it?"
"i suppose so. the last few days have been very confused," she said icily. "how is my father?"
"the attack on thursday was mild, thanks be to god. just before midnight saturday he had another. much worse." he watched her.
"how much worse? please don't play with me! tell me everything at once!"
"ah, so sorry, highness, i did not mean to toy with you." he kept his voice polite and his eyes off her legs, admiring her fire and pride and wanting to toy with her very much. "the doctor called it a stroke and now the left side of his highness is partially paralysed; he can still talk with some difficulty but his mind is as strong as ever. the doctor said he would recover much quicker in tehran but the journey is not possible yet."
"he will recover?" she asked.
"i don't know, highness. as god wants. to me he seems very sick. the doctor, i don't think much of him, all he said was his highness's chances would be better if he was here in tehran."
"then bring him here as soon as possible."
"i will, highness, never fear. meanwhile i have a message for you. the khan, your father, says, 'i wish to see you. at once. i do not know how long i will live but certain arrangements must be made and confirmed. your brother is with me now and "'
"god protect him," azadeh burst out. "is my father reconciled with hakim?"
"his highness has made him his heir. but pi "
"oh, that's wonderful, wonderful, god be praised! but h "
"please be patient and let me finish his message: 'your brother hakim is with me now and i have made him my heir, subject to certain conditions, from you and from him."' ahmed hesitated and azadeh wanted to rush into the gap, her happiness brimming and her caution brimming. her pride stopped her.
"'it is therefore necessary that you return with ahmed at once." that is the end of the message, highness."
the front door opened. ali relocked it and unleashed the dog. at once the dog loped into the living room and put his head in azadeh's lap. "well done, reza," she said petting him, welcoming the moment to collect her wits. "sit. go on, sit! sit!" happily the dog obeyed, then lay at her feet, watching the door and watching ahmed who stood near the other sofa. absently her hand played with the hilt of the kookri, its touch giving her reassurance. obliquely ahmed was conscious of it and its implications. "before god you have told me the truth?"
"yes, highness. before god."
"then we will go at once." she got up. "you came by car?"
"yes, highness. i brought the limousine and chauffeur. but there's a little more news good and bad. a ransom note came to his highness. his excellency your husband is in the hands of bandits, tribesmen..." she tried to maintain her composure, her knees suddenly weak. "... somewhere near the soviet border. both him and his helicopter. it seems that these... these bandits claim to be kurds but the khan doubts it. they surprised the soviet cimtarga and his men and killed them all, capturing his excellency and the helicopter,
early thursday they claimed. then they flew to rezaiyeh where he was seen and appeared unharmed before flying off again."
"praise be to god," was all her pride allowed herself. "is my husband ransomed?"
"the ransom note arrived late on saturday, through intermediaries. as soon as his highness regained consciousness yesterday he gave me the message for you and sent me here to fetch you."
she heard the "fetch" and knew its seriousness but ahmed made nothing of it openly and reached into his pocket. "his highness hakim gave me this for you." he handed her the sealed envelope. she ripped it open, startling the dog. the note was in hakim's handwriting: "my darling, his highness has made me his heir and reinstated both of us, subject to conditions, wonderful conditions, easy to agree. hurry back, he's very ill, and he will not deal with the ransom until he sees you. salaam."
swamped with happiness she hurried out, packed a bag in almost no time, scribbled a note for mclver, telling ali to deliver it tomorrow. as an afterthought she picked up the kookri and walked out, cradling it. ahmed said nothing, just followed her.
february 27
bandar delam: 8:15 a.m. kasigi was hurrying after the grim-faced police officer through the drab crowded corridors of the hospital the radio mechanic, minoru, a few paces behind him. sick and wounded men and women and children were on stretchers or chairs or standing or simply lying on the floor, waiting for someone to help them, the very sick mixed with the lightly sick, a few relieving themselves, a few eating and drinking provisions brought by their visiting relatives who abounded and all who could, complained loudly. harassed nurses and doctors went in and out of rooms, all medical women dressed in chador except a few british, queen alexandra nurses whose severe headdress was almost the equivalent and acceptable.
eventually the policeman found the door he sought and pushed his way into the crowded ward. beds lined both sides with another row in the middle, all occupied by men patients their visiting families chattering or complaining, children playing, and over in one corner, an old woman cooking on a portable stove.
scragger had one wrist and one ankle handcuffed to an old iron bedstead. he was lying on a straw mattress in his clothes and shoes, a bandage around
his head, unshaven and dirty. when he saw kasigi and minoru behind the policeman his eyes lit up. "hello, mates," he said, his voice raw.
"how are you, captain?" kasigi said, appalled by the handcuffs.
; "if i could get free i'd be fine."
irritably the policeman interrupted loudly in farsi for the benefit of the watchers, "this is the man you wanted to see?"
"yes, excellency," minoru said for kasigi.
"so now you've seen him. you can report to your government or whomever you wish that clearly he's been given treatment. he will be tried by the traffic komiteh." pompously he turned to go.
"but the captain pilot wasn't the driver," kasigi said patiently in english, minoru translating for him, having said it for most of the night and since dawn this morning to various policemen of various ranks, always getting varying degrees of the same answer: "if the foreigner wasn't in iran the accident would never have happened, of course he's responsible."
"it doesn't matter he wasn't the driver, he's still responsible!" the policeman said angrily, his voice echoing off the walls. "how many times must you be told? he was in charge of the car. he ordered it. if he hadn't ordered it the accident would never have happened, people were killed and injured, of course he's responsible!"
"but, i repeat, my assistant here was an eyewitness and will give evidence that the accident was caused by the other car."
"lies in front of the komiteh will be dealt with seriously," the man said darkly, one of those who had been in the police car.
"not lies, agha. there are other witnesses," kasigi said, not that he had any, his voice sharpening. "i insist this man be released. he's an employee of my government which has invested billions of dollars in our iran-toda petrochemical plant, to the benefit of iran and particularly all people in bandar delam. unless he is released at once, at once, i will order all japanese out and cease all work!" his biliousness increased, for he did not have the authority, nor would he issue such orders. "everything will stop!"
"by the prophet, we're no longer subject to foreign blackmail," the man blustered and turned away. "you'll have to discuss this with the komiteh!"
"unless he's released at once, all work ceases and there'll be no more jobs. none!" as minoru translated, kasigi noticed a difference in the silence and the mood of those around. and even in the police of ricer himself, nastily aware that all eyes were on him and sensing the sudden hostility. one youth nearby wearing a green band on his grimy pajamas said thickly, "you want to jeopardize our jobs, eh? who're you? how do we know you're not a shah man? have you been cleared by the komiteh?"
"of course i have! by the one god i've been for the imam for years!" the
man replied angrily but a wave of fear went through him. "i helped the revolution, everyone knows. you," he pointed at kasigi, silently cursing him for causing all this trouble, "you follow me!" he pushed a way through the onlookers.
"i'll be back, captain scragger, don't worry." kasigi and minoru rushed off in pursuit.
the police officer led the way down a flight of stairs and along a corridor and down other stairs, all of them crowded. kasigi's nervousness increased as they descended deeper into the hospital. now the man opened the door with a notice in farsi on it.
kasigi broke out in a cold sweat. they were in the morgue. marble slabs with bodies covered with grimy sheets. many of them. odor of chemicals and dried blood and offal and excrement. "here!" the police officer said and tore back a sheet. beneath it was the headless corpse of a woman. her head was obscenely near the trunk, eyes open. "your car caused her death, what about her and her family?" kasigi heard the "your" and a freezing current went through him. 'and here!" he ripped away another sheet. a badly mashed woman, unrecognisable. "well?"
"we're... we're deeply sorry of course... of course we're deeply sorry that anyone was hurt, deeply sorry, but that is karma, insha'allah, not our fault or the fault of the pilot upstairs." kasigi was hard put to hold his nausea down. "deeply sorry."
minoru translated, the police of ricer leaning insolently against the slab. then he replied and the young japanese's eyes widened: "he says, he says the bail, the fine to release mr. scragger immediately is i million rials. at once. what the komiteh decides is nothing to do with him."
one million rials was about $12,000. "that's not possible, but we could certainly pay 100,000 rials within the hour."
"a million," the man shouted. he grabbed the woman's head by the hair and held it up to kasigi who had to force himself to stand erect. "what about her children who are now condemned forever to be motherless? don't they deserve compensation? eh?"
"there's... there's not that amount of cash in... in the whole plant, so sorry."
the policeman swore and continued to haggle but then the door opened. orderlies with a trolley and another body came in, eyeing them curiously. abruptly the policeman said, "very well. we will go to your office at once."
they went and got the last amount kasigi had offered, 250,000 rials about $3,000 but no receipt, only a verbal agreement that scragger could leave. not trusting the man, kasigi gave him half in the office and put the rest into an envelope that he kept in his pocket. they returned to the hospital. there
he waited in the car while minoru and the man went inside. the waiting seemed interminable but finally minoru and scragger came down the steps with the policeman. kasigi got out and gave the policeman the envelope. the man cursed all foreigners and went away truculently.
"so," kasigi said and smiled at scragger. they shook hands, scragger thanking him profusely, apologising for all the trouble, both men cursing fate, blessing it, getting into the car quickly. the iranian chauffeur swerved out into the traffic, swore loudly at an overtaking car that had the right of way and almost collided with him, jabbing the horn.
"tell him to slow down, minoru," kasigi said. minoru obeyed and the driver nodded and smiled and obeyed. the slowdown lasted a few seconds.
"are you all right, captain?"
"oh, yes. headache's a beaus but okay. the worst was wanting to pee."
"what?"
"the bastards kept me handcuffed to the bed and wouldn't let me get to the loo. i just couldn't do it in my pants, or in the bed, and it wasn't till early this morning a nurse brought me a bottle. christ, i thought my bladder was bust." scragger rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes. "no problem, old sport. i owe you one. plus the ransom! how much was it?"
"nothing, nothing to you. we have a fund for these hazards."
"it's no problem, andy gavallan'll pay oh, that reminds me, he said he knew your boss some years ago, toda, hiro toda."
"ah so desu ha?" kasigi was genuinely surprised. "gavallan has choppers in japan?"
"oh, no. it was when he was a china trader, out of hong kong, when he was working for struan's." the name sent a warning bolt through kasigi that he kept bottled. "you ever heard of them?"
"yes, a fine company. toda's do, or did business with struan's," kasigi said smoothly, but he docketed the information for future consideration wasn't it linbar struan who unilaterally canceled five ship-leasing contracts two years ago that almost broke us? perhaps gavallan could be an instrument to recoup, one way or another. "sorry you had such a bad time."
"not your fault, cobber. but andy'd want to pay the ransom. wot'd they stick us for?"
"it was very modest. please, let it be a gift you saved my ship."
after a pause scragger said, "then i owe you two, old sport."
"we selected the driver it was our fault."
"where is he, where's mohammed?"
"so sorry, he's dead."
scragger swore. "it wasn't his fault, it wasn't at all."
"yes, yes, i know. we have given his family compensation, and we will do the
same for the victims." kasigi was trying to read how shaken scragger was, wanting to know very much when he would be fit to fly, and greatly irritated with the day's delay. it was imperative to get back to al shargaz as soon as possible, thence home to japan. his work here was finished. chief engineer watanabe was now totally on his side, the copies of his private reports would cement his own corporate position and enormously help him and hiro toda to reopen the possibility of persuadin
g the government to declare iran-toda a national project.
not possibility, certainty! he thought, more confident than he had ever been. we'll be saved from bankruptcy, we'll bury our enemies, the mitsuwari and gyokotomo, and gain nothing but face ourselves and profit, vast profit! oh, yes. and the added piece of good fortune, kasigi allowed himself a cynical smile, the explosively important copy of dead chief engineer kasusaka's private report to gyokotomo, dated and signed, that watanabe had miraculously "found" in a forgotten file while i was in al shargaz! i'll have to be very careful how i use it, oh, very careful indeed, but it makes it all the more important that i get home as soon as possible.
James Clavell - Whirlwind Page 105