she was very pleased with herself and with aysha who had whispered about the secret listening places so that when she had stormed out of the room in pretended rage and left hakim and erikki alone, she had scurried to overhear what they were saying. oh, erikki, i was petrified you and hakim weren't
going to believe that i'd really break my oath and frantic in case the clues i'd placed before you all evening wouldn't add up to your perfect stratagem. but you went one better than me you even arranged the helicopter. oh, how clever you were, i was, we were together. i even made sure you brought my handbag and jewel bag with najoud's loot that i wheedled out of hakim so now we're rich as well as safe, if only we can get out of this god-lost country.
"it is god-lost, my darling," ross had said the last time she had seen him in tehran, just before he had left her she could not endure parting without saying good-bye so she had gone to talbot to inquire after him and then, a few hours later, he had knocked on her door, the apartment empty but for them. "it's best you leave iran, azadeh. your beloved iran is once again bereft. this revolution's the same as all of them: a new tyranny replaces the old. your new rulers will implant their law, their version of god's law, as the shah implanted his. your ayatollahs will live and die as popes live and die, some good men, some bad and some evil. in god's time the world'll get a little better, the beast in men that needs to bite and hack and kill and torment and torture will become a little more human and a little more restrained. it's only people that bugger up the world, azadeh. men mostly. you know i love you?"
"yes. you said it in the village. you know i love you?"
"yes."
so easy to swoop back into the womb of time as when they were young. "but we're not young now and there's a great sadness on me, azadeh."
"it'll pass, johnny," she had said, wanting his happiness. "it'll pass as iran's troubles will pass. we've had terrible times for centuries but they've passed." she remembered how they had sat together, not touching now, yet possessed, one with the other. then later he had smiled and raised his hand in his devilmay-care salute and he had left silently.
again the glint in the valley. anxiety mshed back into her. now a movement through the trees and she saw them. "erikki!" he was instantly awake. "down there. two men on horseback. they look like tribesmen." she handed him the binoculars.
"i see them." the men were armed and cantering along the valley bed, dressed as hill people would dress, keeping to cover where there was cover. erikki focused on them. from time to time he saw them look up in their direction. "they can probably see the chopper but i doubt if they can see us."
"they're heading up here?"
through his aching and tiredness he had heard the fear in her voice. "perhaps. probably yes. it'd take them half an hour to get up here, we've plenty of time."
"they're looking for us." her face was white and she moved closer to erikki. "hakim will have alerted everywhere."
"he won't have done that. he helped me."
"that was to escape." nervously she looked around the plateau and the tree line and the mountains, then back at the two men. "once you escaped he'd act like a khan. you don't know hakim, erikki. he's my brother but before that he's khan."
through the binoculars he saw the half-hidden village beside the road in the middle distance. sun glinted off telephone lines. his own anxiety increased. "perhaps they're just villagers and curious about us. but we won't wait to find out." wearily he smiled at her. "hungry?"
"yes, but i'm fine." hastily she began bundling the carpet that was ancient, priceless, and one of her favorites. "i'm thirsty more than hungry."
"me too but i feel better now. the sleep helped." his eyes ranged the mountains, setting what he saw against his remembrance of the map. a last look at the men still far below. no danger for a while, unless there are others around, he thought, then went for the cockpit. azadeh shoved the carpet into the cabin and tugged the door closed. there were bullet holes in it that she had not noticed before. another spark of sunlight off metal in the forest, much closer, that neither saw.
erikki's head ached and he felt weak. he pressed the starting button. wind up, immediate and correct. a quick check of his instruments. rev counter shattered, no compass, no adf. no need for some instruments the sound of the engines would tell him when the needles would be in the green. but needles on the fuel gauges were stuck at a quarter full. no time to check on them or any other damage and if there was damage, what could he do? all gods great and small, old and new, living or dead or yet to be born, be on my side today, i'll need all the help you can give me. his eyes saw the kookri that he remembered vaguely shoving in the seat pocket. without conscious effort his fingers reached out and touched it. the feel of it burned.
azadeh hurried for the cockpit, turbulence from the rotors picking up speed clawing at her, chilling her even more. she climbed into the seat and locked the door, turning her eyes away from the mess of dried blood on the seat and floor. her smile died, noticing his brooding concentration and the strangeness, his hand almost near the kookri but not quite. again she wondered why he had brought it.
"are you all right, erikki?" she asked, but he did not appear to have heard her. insha'allah. it's god's will he is alive and i'm alive, that we're together and almost safe. but now it's up to me to carry the burden and to keep us safe. he's not my erikki yet, neither in looks nor in spirit. i can almost hear the bad thoughts pounding in his head. soon the bad will again overpower the good. god protect us. "thank you, erikki," she said, accepting the headset he handed her, mentally girding herself for the battle.
he made sure she was strapped in and adjusted the volume for her. "you can hear me, all right?"
"oh, yes, my darling. thank you."
part of his hearing was concentrated on the sound of the engines, a minute or two yet before they could take off. "we've not enough fuel to get to van which's the nearest airfield in turkey i could go south to the hospital in rezaiyeh for fuel but that's too dangerous. i'm going north a little. i saw a village that way and a road. perhaps that's the khoi-van road."
"good, let's hurry, erikki, i don't feel safe here. are there any airfields near here? hakim's bound to have alerted the police and they'll have alerted the air force. can we take off?"
"just a few more seconds, engines're almost ready." he saw the anxiety and her beauty and once more the picture of her and john ross together tumbled into his mind. he forced it away. "i think there are airfields all over the border sector. we'll go as far as we can; i think we've enough fuel to get over the border." he made an effort to be light. "maybe we can find a gas station. do you think they'd take a credit card?"
she laughed nervously and lifted up her bag, winding the strap around her wrist. "no need for credit cards, erikki. we're rich you're rich. i can speak turkish and if i can't beg, buy, or bribe our way through i'm not of the tribe gorgon! but through to where? istanbul? you're overdue a fabulous holiday, erikki. we're safe only because of you, you did everything, thought of everything!"
"no, azadeh, you did." you and john ross, he wanted to shout and looked back at his instruments to hide. but without ross azadeh'd be dead and therefore i'd be dead and i can't live with the thought of you and him together. i'm sure you lov
at that moment his disbelieving eyes saw the groups of riders break out of the forest a quarter of a mile away on both sides of him, police among them, and begin galloping across the rocky space to head them off. his ears told him the engines were in the green. at once his hands shoved full throttle. time slowing. creeping off the ground, no way that the attackers could not shoot them down. a million years of time for them to rein in, aim, and fire, any one of the dozen men. the gendarme in the middle, the sergeant, he's stopping, pulling the m16 out of his saddle holster!
abruptly time came back at full speed and erikki swung away and fled from them, weaving this way and that, expecting every second to be the last, then they were over the side, roaring down into the ravine at treetop level
.
"hold your fire," the sergeant shouted to the overexcited tribesmen who were at the lip, aiming and firing, their horses cavorting. "in the name of god i told you we were ordered to capture them, to save her and kill him, not kill
her!" reluctantly the others obeyed and when he came up to them he saw the 212 was well away down in the valley. he pulled out the walkie- talkie and switched on: "hq, this is sergeant zibri. the ambush failed. his engines were going before we got into position. but he's flushed out of his hiding place."
"which way is he heading?"
"he's turning north toward the khoi-van road."
"did you see her highness?"
"yes. she looked petrified. tell the khan we saw the kidnapper strap her into the seat and it looked as though the kidnapper also had a strap around her wrist. she..." the sergeant's voice picked up excitedly. "now the helicopter's turned eastward, it's keeping about two or three kilometers south of the road."
"good. well done. we'll alert the air force..."
tehran at inner intelligence hq: 9:54 a.m. group four assassin suliman al wiali tried to stop his fingers from trembling as he took the telex from the savama colonel: "chief of inner intelligence colonel hashemi fazir was killed last night, bravely leading the charge that overran the leftist mujhadin hq, together with the english adviser armstrong. both men were consumed by fire when the traitors blew up the building. (signed) chief of police, tabriz."
suliman was not yet over his fright at the sudden summons, petrified that this official had already found incriminating papers in fazir's safe about group four assassins the safe open and empty behind him. surely my master wouldn't have been that careless, not here in his own office! "the will of god, excellency," he said, handing the telex back and hiding his fury. "the will of god. are you the new leader of inner intelligence, excellency?"
"yes. what were your duties?"
"i'm an agent, excellency," suliman told him, fawning as would be expected, disregarding the past tense. his fear began to leave him. if these dogs suspected anything, i wouldn't be standing here, he reasoned, his confidence growing, i'd be in a dungeon screaming. these incompetent sons of dogs don't deserve to live in the world of men. "the colonel ordered me to live in jaleh and keep my ears and eyes open and smoke out communists." he kept his eyes blank, despising this lean-faced, pompous man who sat at fazir's desk.
"how long have you been employed?"
"three or four years, i don't remember exactly, excellency, it's on my card. perhaps it's five, i don't remember. it should be on my card, excellency. about four years and i work hard and will serve you with all my power."
"savama is absorbing inner intelligence. from now on you will report to me. i'll want copies of your reports since you began."
"as god wants, excellency, but i can't write, at least i write very badly and excellency fazir never required written reports," suliman lied guilelessly. he waited in silence, shuffling his feet and acting dull- witted. savak or savama, they're all liars and more than likely they arranged my master's murder. god curse them these dogs've ruined my master's plan. they've done me out of my perfect job! my perfect job with real money and real power and real future. these dogs are thieves, they've stolen my future and my safety. now i've no job, no pinpointed enemies of god to slay. no future, no safety, no protec unless!
unless i use my wits and skills and take over where my master was stopped!
son of a burnt father, why not? it's the will of god that he's dead and i'm alive, that he's the sacrifice and i'm not. why not induct more teams? i know the master's techniques and part of his plan. even better, why not raid his house and empty the safe in the cellar he never knew i knew about. not even his wife knows about that one. now that he's dead it should be easy. yes, and better i go tonight, get there first before these turd eaters of the left hand do it. what riches that safe could contain should contain! money, papers, lists my master loved lists like a dog loves shit! may i be sacrificed if the safe doesn't contain a list of the other group fours. didn't my late master plan to be today's al-sabbah? why not me instead? with assassins, real assassins who are already fearless of death and seek martyrdom as their guaranteed passport to paradise...
he almost laughed aloud. to cover it he belched. "sorry, excellency, i'm not feeling well, can i leave, pl "
"where did colonel fazir keep his papers?"
"papers, excellency? may i be your sacrifice, excellency, but what should a man like me know about papers? i'm just an agent, i reported to him and he sent me away, most times with a boot and a curse it will be grand to work for a real man." he waited confidently. now what would fazir have wanted me to do? certainly to be avenged which is clearly to dispose of pahmudi who's responsible for his death and this dog who dares to sit at his desk. why not? but not until i've emptied the real safe. "please can i go, excellency? my bowels are overful and i've the parasite disease."
distastefully, the colonel looked up from the card that told him nothing. no files in the safe, just money. a marvelous pishkesh for me, he thought, but where are his files? fazir must have kept files somewhere. his home? "yes, you can go," he said irritably, "but report to me once a week. personally to me. and don't forget, unless you do a good job... we don't intend to employ malingerers."
"yes, excellency, certainly, excellency, thank you, excellency, i'll do my best for god and the imam, but when should i report?"
"the day after holy day, every week." testily the colonel waved him away. suliman shuffled out and promised himself that before the next reporting day this colonel would be no more. son of a dog, why not? already my power reaches to beirut and to bahrain.
bahrain: 12:s0 p.m. due south, almost seven hundred miles away, bahrain was balmy and sunny, the beaches full with weekend vacationers, windsurfers offshore enjoying the fine breeze, hotel terrace tables filled with men and women, scantily dressed to bask in the fine spring sunshine. one of these was sayada bertolin.
she wore a filmy sundress over her bikini and sipped a citron presse and sat alone, her table shaded by a green umbrella. idly she watched the bathers and the children playing in the shallows one small boy a pattern of her own son. it'll be so good to be home again, she thought, to hold my son in my arms again and yes, yes, even to see my husband again. it's been such a long time away from civilisation, from good food and good talk, from good coffee and croissants and wine, from newspapers and radio and tv and all the wonderful things we take for granted. though not me. i've always appreciated them and have always worked for a better world and justice in the middle east.
but now? her joy left her.
now i'm not just a plo sympathiser and courier but a secret agent for lebanese christian militia, their israeli overlords and their cia overlords thank god i was fortunate to overhear them whispering together when they thought i had already left after getting their orders to return to beirut. still no names, but enough to pinpoint their origin. dogs! filthy vile dogs! christians! betrayers of palestine! there's still teymour to be revenged. dare i tell my husband who'll tell others in the council? i daren't. they know too much.
her attention focused out to sea and she was startled. among the windsurfers she recognised jean-luc, hurtling shoreward, beautifully balanced on the precarious board, leaning elegantly against the wind. at the very last second, he twisted into the wind, stepped off in the shallows, and allowed the sail to collapse. she smiled at such perfection.
ah, jean-luc how you do love yourself! but i admit that had flair. in many things you're superb, as a chef, as a lover ah, yes, but only from time to time, you're not varied enough or experimental enough for us middle easterns who understand eroticism, and you're too concerned with your own beauty. "i'll admit you're beautiful," she murmured, moistening pleasantly at the thought. in lovemaking you're above average, cheri, but no more. you're not the best. my first husband was the best, perhaps because he was the first. then teymour. teymour was unique. ah, teymour i'm not afraid to think of you now, now
that i'm out of tehran. there i couldn't. i won't forget you, or what they did. i'll take revenge for you on christian militia one day.
her eyes were watching jean-luc, wondering what he was doing here, elated he was here, hoping he would see her, not wanting to make the first move to tempt fate but ready to wait and see what fate had in store. she glanced in her hand mirror, added a touch of gloss to her lips, perfume behind her ears. again she waited. he started up from the beach. she pretended to concentrate on her glass, watching him in its reflection, leaving it up to chance.
James Clavell - Whirlwind Page 147