James Clavell - Whirlwind

by Whirlwind(Lit)

  wazari moaned, helpless in the maelstrom and near breaking. ever since zataki had beaten him so badly, nose smashed can't seem to breathe anymore four teeth knocked out, and an almost perpetual headache, his spirit had left him and so had his courage. he had never been beaten before. so hotshot and kia were both guilty, so what, so what? what business was it of yours? and now your stupidity will consume you too.

  tears spilled down the bruises. "for crissake, for crissake, help, help me..." then "malfunction" jumped into his head and he seized on it. what malfunction? the set was working fine yesterday.

  he brushed the tears away. making no sound, he slid over to the desk and quietly switched on the radio, keeping the volume to an absolute minimum. all seemed fine. dials checked out. lots of static from an electrical storm but no traffic. unusual that there should be no traffic on the company frequency, someone somewhere should be sending. not daring to turn the volume up, he reached into a drawer for a pair of headphones and plugged them in, bypassing the loudspeaker. now he could have the signal as loud as he pleased. curious. still nothing. carefully he switched out of the company channel to others. nothing. over to the vhf. nothing, anywhere. back to hf. he could not even pick up a routine, recorded weather report that still came out of tehran.

  he was a good radio operator and well trained and it took him no time to

  zero in on the fault. a look through the crack in the roof door confirmed the wire hanging free. sonofabitch, he thought. why the hell didn't i notice it when i was out there?

  carefully he switched off and crawled out again and when he was at the foot of the mast and saw that the wire had been sheared off but the rust at the end had been newly cleaned off, anger possessed him. then excitement. those bastards, he thought. those hypocritical bastards, mciver and lochart. they musta been listening and transmitting when i arrived. what the hell're they up to?

  the connection was quickly repaired. hf on and instantly farsi filled his ears on the company frequency: hq at tehran talking to bandar delam, then calling al shargaz and lengeh and him at kowiss, something about four choppers not going where they were supposed to go. iran-toda? not one of our bases.

  "kowiss, this bandar delam, do you read?"

  he recognized jahan's voice from bandar delam. automatically his finger went to the transmit switch, then stopped. no need to call back yet, he thought. the company airwaves were full now, numir and lahan from bandar delam and gelani at tehran, and siamaki ranting and raving. "sonofabitch," he muttered after a few minutes, everything falling into place.

  in the helicopters off siri: 10:05 a.m. siri island itself was a mile ahead, but before scragger and his team could turn southeast for the international boundary, there were three more rigs to bypass. like a bleeding minefield, scragger thought. so far safe and no more shocks. all needles in the green and the engines sounding sweet. his mechanic benson, beside him, was staring at the waves rushing past just below them. static in their earphones. from time to time, overflying international flights would report their positions to kish radar, a checkpoint in their area, to be answered at once.

  into the intercom benson said, "kish're spot on, scrag."

  "we're under their radar. no sweat."

  "i'm sweating. are you?"

  scragger nodded. kish was abeam of them, fifteen-odd miles to his right. he looked left and right. vossi and willi were alongside and he gave them a thumbs-up and they returned it vossi enthusiastically.

  "another twenty minutes and we're over the border," scragger said. "soon as we are, we'll go up to seven hundred."

  "good. weather's improving, scrag," benson said. the cloud cover above had thinned appreciably, visibility about the same. in plenty of time they both saw the outward-bound, heavily laden tanker ahead. with willi, scragger

  banked astern of her with plenty to spare but vossi exuberantly pulled up high over her, then leisurely came down into station alongside him.

  at once in their headphones: "this is kish control, low-flying helicopter on a course 225, report height and destination!"

  scragger weaved from side to side to attract willi and vossi and pointed southwest and waved them off, commanding them to stay low and to leave him. he saw their reluctance, but he jabbed his finger southeast, waved a farewell, and pulled up in a climb, leaving them on the surface of the sea. "hold on to your balls, benson," he said, a weight in his stomach, then began transmitting, moving his boom mike back and forth from his mouth, simulating a bad signal: "kish, this is chopper hvx out of lengeh, inbound siri nine with spares, course 225. thought i saw a capsized scow but it was negative." siri nine was the farthest rig they normally serviced, just this side of the iranemirate boundary, still under construction and not yet equipped with their own vhf. "climbing back to seven hundred."

  "chopper hvx, you're two by five, your transmission intermittent. maintain course and report seven hundred feet. confirm you were informed of mandatory new regulations for start engines request at lengeh." the operator's americanaccented voice was five by five, crisp and professional.

  "sorry, kish, this is the first day i've been back on duty." scragger saw willi and vossi vanish into the haze. "do i need to request engine start from siri nine after i've landed? i'll be there at least an hour." scragger wiped a bead of sweat off. kish would be within their rights to order him to land at kish first to give him a roasting for breaking regulations.

  "affirmative. standby one."

  in the intercom, benson said uneasily, "now what, scrag?"

  "they'll be having a little conference."

  "whattre we going to do?"

  scragger beamed. "depends on what they do." he clicked the sender: "kish, hvx at seven hundred."

  "kish. maintain course and altitude. standby one."

  "hvx." more silence. scragger was sifting alternates, enjoying the danger. "this's better than flying a milk run, now isn't it, me son?"

  "to be honest, it isn't. if i could get hold of vossi, i'd strangle him."

  scragger shrugged. "it's done. we could've been in and out of radar ever since we left. maybe qeshemi reported us." he began whistling tonelessly. they were well past siri island now with rig siri nine five kilometers ahead. "kish, this's hvx," scragger said, still working the mike. "leaving seven hundred on approach for siri nine."

  "negative hvx, maintain seven hundred and hold. your transmission is intermittent and two by five."

  "hvx kish, please say again, your transmission is garbled. i say again, am leaving seven hundred on approach for siri nine," scragger repeated slowly, continuing to simulate bad transmission. again he beamed at benson. "trick i learned in the raf, me son."

  "hvx, kish. i say again maintain seven hundred and hold."

  "kish, it's bumpy and the haze's thickening. going through six hundred. i will report on landing and call requesting engine start. thanks and g'day!" he added with a prayer.

  "hvx, your transmission is intermittent. abort landing at siri nine. turn 310 degrees, maintain seven hundred, and report direct to kish."

  benson went white. scragger belched. "say again, kish, you're one by five."

  "i say again, abort landing at siri nine, turn to 3 lo degrees, and report direct kish." the operator's voice was unhurried.

  "roger, kish, understand we're to land siri nine and report kish next. going through four hundred for low-level approach, thank you and g'day."

  "kish, this is jal flight 664 from delhi," broke in. "overhead at thirty- eight thousand inbound kuwait on 300. do you read?"

  "jal 664, kish. maintain course and altitude. call kuwait on 118.8, good day."

  scragger peered through the haze. he could see the half-constructed rig, a work barge moored to one of its legs. instrument needles all in the green and hey, wait a moment, temperature's up, oil pressure's down on number one engine. benson had seen it too. he tapped the dial, bent closer. the oil pressure needle went up slightly then fell back again, temperature a few degrees above normal no time to worry about
that now, get ready! the deck crew had heard and seen them and stopped working, clearing away from the wellmarked helipad. when he was fifty feet off the rig, scragger said: "kish, hvx landing now. g'day."

  "hvx. report direct kish next. request engine start. i repeat, report direct kish next," all said clearly. "do you read?"

  but scragger did not acknowledge, or land. at a few feet he just pulled into a hover, waved to the deck crew who recognized him and assumed it was just a practice of a familiarization-training run for a new pilot, a constant habit of scragger's. a last wave, then he got forward motion, dropped neatly over the side, and hugging the sea, turned southwest at full throttle.

  at kowiss air base: 10:21 a.m. the mullah hussain was driving, and he stopped the car outside the office building. mciver got out. "thank you," he said, not knowing what to expect now, for hussain had been silent since

  they had left the office. lochart, ayre, and the others were over by the helicopters. kia stalked out of the office, stopped on seeing the mullah, then came down the steps. "good morning, excellency hussain, greetings, how pleasant to see you." he used a ministerial voice for an honored guest, but not an equal, then to mciver in english, curtly, "we should leave at once."

  "er, yes, agha. just give me a couple of minutes to get organised." glad i'm not kia, he told himself as he walked off, his stomach churning, and turned to lochart. "hello, tom."

  "you all right, mac?"

  "yes." he added quietly, "we'll have to play this cautiously for the next few minutes. don't know what the mullah's up to. have to wait and see what he does about kia, don't know whether kia's in the creek or not. soon as we know we can move." he dropped his voice even more. "i can't avoid taking kia unless hussain grabs him. i plan to take him part of the way, just over the hills out of vhf range, pretend an emergency, and land. when kia's out of the cockpit and cooling his heels, i'll take off and skirt this area and meet you at the rendezvous."

  "don't like that idea, mac. better let me do it. you don't know the place and those sand dunes are look-alikes for miles. i'd better take him."

  "i've thought about that, but then i'd be flying one of the mecs without a license. i'd rather put kia at risk than them. besides, you might be tempted to keep on going back to tehran. all the way. eh?"

  "better that i drop him off and meet you at the rendezvous. safer."

  mciver shook his head, feeling rotten about putting his friend into a corner. "you'd go on, wouldn't you?"

  after a strange pause, lochart said, "while i was waiting for you, if i could've gotten airborne i'd've put him aboard and gone." he smiled a twisted smile. "the airmen said no way, to wait. better watch them, mac, some of them speak english. what happened to you?"

  "hussein just questioned me about kia and duke."

  lochart stared at him. "duke? what about?"

  "everything about him. when i asked hussain why, all he'd say was: 'just because he interests me."' mciver saw a tremor go through lochart.

  "mae, i think it's best if i take kia. you might miss the rendezvous you can go in tandem with freddy. i'll get off first and wait for you."

  "sorry, tom, can't risk that you'll keep on going. if i were you i'd do the same and the hell with the risk. but i can't let you go back. to go back now'd be a disaster. it'd be a disaster for you i'm sure of that, tom as well as for the rest of us. that's the truth."

  "hell with the truth," lochart said bitterly. "all right, but by god, the moment we touch down at kuwait, i'm on the month's leave i'm owed, or

  resigned from s-g, whichever you want from the very second."

  "fair enough but it has to be from al shargaz. we'll have to refuel in kuwait and get out of there as fast as we can if we're lucky enough to get there and if they'll let us fly out."

  "no. kuwait's the end of the line for me."

  "please yourself," mciver said, hardening. "but i'll make sure you don't get a plane into tehran, abadan, or anywhere else in iran."

  "you're a bastard," lochart said, sick that mciver had read his intentions so clearly. "goddamn you to hell!"

  "yes, sorry. from al shargaz i'll help all i c " mciver stopped, seeing lochart mutter a curse. he turned around. kia and hussain were still conversing by the car. "what's the matter?"

  "in the tower."

  mciver looked up. then he noticed wazari, half-hidden by one of the boarded windows, beckoning them clearly. no way to pretend that they had not seen him. as they watched, wazari beckoned them again and moved back into cover.

  "goddamn him," lochart was saying. "i checked the tower just after you'd left to make sure he hadn't slipped up there and he hadn't so i thought he'd made a run for it." his face flushed with rage. "come to think of it, i didn't go right up into the room so he could've hidden on the roof the sonofabitch must've been there all the time."

  "chris/almighty! maybe he found the broken wire." mciver was rocked.

  lochart's face closed. "you stay here. if he tries to give us any trouble i'll kill him." he stalked off.

  "wait, i'll come too. freddy," he called out, "we'll be back in a moment."

  as they passed hussain and kia, mciver said, "i'm just going to ask for clearance, minister. takeoff in five minutes?"

  before kia could answer, the mullah said cryptically, "insha'allah."

  kia said curtly to mciver, "captain, you haven't forgotten i told you i must be in tehran for an important meeting at 7:00 pm.? good," turned his back on them, again concentrating on hussain. "you were saying, excellency?"

  the two pilots went into the office, seething at kia's rudeness, bypassed pavoud and the other staff, and headed for the tower staircase.

  the tower was empty. then they saw the door to the roof ajar and heard wazari whisper, "over here." he was just outside, crouched by the wall.

  wazari did not move. "i know what you're up to. there's no radio malfunction," he said, hardly able to contain his excitement. "four choppers have pushed off from bandar delam and vanished. your managing director siamaki's screaming like a stuck pig because he can't raise lengeh, us, or al shargaz and mr. gavallan there they're just sitting tight, that's it, isn't it? huh?"

  "what's that got to do with us?" lochart said tautly.

  "everything, of course everything, because it all fits. numir at bandar delam says all expats've gone, there's no one left at bandar. siamaki says the same about tehran, he even told numir your houseboy, captain mciver, your houseboy says most of your personal things and a captain pettikin's're out of the apartment."

  mciver shrugged and went to switch on the vhf. "safety precautions while pettikin's on leave and i'm away. been lots of robberies."

  "don't make a call yet. please. listen, for crissake, listen, i'm begging you... there's no way you can stop the truth. your 212s and guys have gone from bandar, lengeh's silent, so they're the same, tehran's closed down, the same, there's only here left and you're all set." wazari's voice was curious and they could not tell yet what was under it. "i'm not gonna give you away, i want to help you. i want to help. i swear i want to help you."

  "help us do what?"

  "get away."

  "why should you do that, even if what you say's true?" lochart said angrily.

  "you were right not to trust me before, captain, but i swear to god you can trust me now, i'm together now, earlier i wasn't but now i am and you're my only hope to get out. i'm up before the komiteh tomorrow and... and look at me, for crissake!" he burst out. "i'm a mess, and unless i can get to a proper doctor i'll be a mess forever and maybe even a dead man there's something pressing here, hurts like hell," wazari touched the top of his mashed nose. "since that bastard zataki beat me my head's been aching and i've been crazy, sure i have, i know it, but i can still help. i can cover you from here if you'll take me with you, just let me sneak aboard the last chopper i swear i'll help." tears filled his eyes. the two men stared at him.

  mciver clicked on the vhf sender. "kowiss tower, ihc testing, testing."

  a long p
ause, then in heavily accented english, "this the tower, ihc, you five by five."

  "thank you. we seem to have cleared the fault. our 206 charter to tehran will leave in ten minutes, also our morning flight to rigs forty, abu sal, and gordy with spares."

  "okay. report airborne. your bandar delam is been try to contact you."

  mciver felt the sweat start. "thanks, tower. good day." he looked at lochart, then switched on the hf. at once they heard jahan's voice in farsi and lochart began interpreting: "jahan's saying the last sighting of their flight was northeast, inland from the coast... that zataki..." for a moment his voice faltered, "... that zataki had ordered the four choppers to service iran-toda and should be at iran-toda by now and is sure to call or send a message..." then mciver recognized siamaki. lochart was sweating. "siamaki's saying