Escape

by James Clavell

  ‘Of course if I live,’ he said, outwardly calm.

  An ember fell into the hearth and he reached forward and moved it to safety. He saw that Azadeh had not taken her gaze off Hakim, nor he off her. The same calm, same polite smile, same inflexibility.

  ‘Yes, Azadeh?’ Hakim said.

  ‘A mullah could absolve me from my oath.’

  ‘Not possible. Neither a mullah nor I could do that, not even the Imam would agree.’

  ‘I can absolve myself. This is between me and God, I can ab—’

  ‘You cannot, Azadeh. You cannot and live at peace with yourself.’

  ‘I can. I can and be at peace.’

  ‘Not and remain Muslim.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said simply, ‘I agree.’

  Hakim gasped. ‘You don’t know what you say.’

  ‘Oh, but I do, I’ve considered even that.’ Her voice was toneless. ‘I’ve considered that solution and found it bearable. I will not endure two years of separation, nor will I endure any attempt on my husband’s life, or forgive it.’ She sat back and left the lists for the moment, nauseous but glad she had brought the matter into the open but frightened all the same. Once more she blessed Aysha for forewarning her.

  ‘I will not allow you to renounce Islam under any circumstances.’

  She just looked back at the flames.

  The minefield was all around them, all mines triggered, and though Hakim was concentrating on her, his senses probed Erikki, He of the Knife, knowing the man was waiting too, playing a different game now that the problem was before them. Should I have dismissed the guard, he asked himself, outraged by her threat, the smell of danger filling his nostrils. ‘Whatever you say, Azadeh, whatever you try, for the sake of your soul I would be forced to prevent an apostasy—in any way I could. That’s unthinkable.’

  ‘Then please help me. You’re very wise. You’re Khan and we have been through much together. I beg you, remove the threat to my soul and to my husband.’

  ‘I don’t threaten your soul or your husband.’ Hakim looked at Erikki directly. ‘I don’t.’

  Erikki said, ‘What were those dangers you mentioned?’

  ‘I can’t tell you, Erikki,’ Hakim said.

  ‘Would you excuse us, Highness? We must get ready to leave.’ Azadeh got up. So did Erikki.

  ‘You must stay where you are!’ Hakim was furious. ‘Erikki, you’d allow her to forswear Islam, her heritage, and her chance of life everlasting?’

  ‘No, that’s not part of my plan,’ he said. Both of them stared at him, bewildered. ‘Please tell me what dangers, Hakim.’

  ‘What plan? You have a plan? To do what?’

  ‘The dangers, first tell me what dangers. Azadeh’s Islam is safe with me, by my own gods I swear it. What dangers?’

  It had never been part of Hakim’s strategy to tell them, but now he was rocked by her intractability, aghast that she would consider committing the ultimate heresy, and further disoriented by this strange man’s sincerity. So he told them about the telex and the pilots and airplanes fleeing, and his conversation with Hashemi, noticing that though Azadeh was as aghast as Erikki, her surprise did not seem real. It’s almost as though she already knew, had been present, both times, but how could she possibly know? He rushed on: ‘I told him you could not be taken in my house or domain or in Tabriz, that I would give you a car, that I hoped you’d escape arrest, and that you would leave just before dawn.’

  Erikki was shattered. The telex’s changed everything, he thought. ‘So they’ll be waiting for me.’

  ‘Yes. But I did not tell Hashemi I had another plan, that I’ve already sent a car into Tabriz, that the moment Azadeh was asleep I wo—’

  ‘You’d’ve left me, Erikki?’ Azadeh was appalled. ‘You’d’ve left me without telling me, without asking me?’

  ‘Perhaps. What were you saying, Hakim; please finish what you were saying.’

  ‘The moment Azadeh was asleep I planned to smuggle you out of the palace into Tabriz where the car is and point you towards the border, the Turkish border. I have friends in Khvoy and they would help you across it, with the Help of God,’ Hakim added automatically, enormously relieved that he had had the foresight to arrange this alternative plan—just in case it was needed. And now it’s happened, he thought. ‘You have a plan?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘If you don’t like it, Hakim Khan, what then?’

  ‘In that case I would refuse to allow it and try to stop it.’

  ‘I would prefer not to risk your displeasure.’

  ‘Without my help, you cannot leave.’

  ‘I’d like your help, that’s true.’ Erikki was no longer confident. With Mac and Charlie and the rest gone—how in hell could they do it so fast? Why the hell didn’t it happen while we were in Tehran but thank all gods Hakim’s Khan now and can protect Azadeh—it’s clear what SAVAK’ll do to me if they catch me, when they catch me. ‘You were right about the danger. You think I could sneak out as you said?’

  ‘Hashemi left two policemen on the gate. I think you could be smuggled out—somehow it should be possible to distract them—I don’t know if there’re others on the road down to the city but there may be, more than likely there would be. If they’re vigilant and you’re intercepted. . . that’s God’s will.’

  Azadeh said, ‘Erikki, they’re expecting you to go alone, and the colonel agreed not to touch you inside Tabriz. If we were hidden in the back of an old truck—we only need a little luck to avoid them.’

  ‘You cannot leave,’ Hakim said impatiently, but she did not hear him. Her mind had leaped to Ross and Gueng and the previous escape, and how difficult those two had found it even though they were trained saboteurs and fighters. Poor Gueng. A chill went through her. The road north’s as difficult as the one south, so easy to ambush us, so easy to put up roadblocks. Not so far in miles to Khvoy, and past Khvoy to the frontier, but a million miles in time and with my bad back. . . I doubt if I could walk even one of them.

  ‘Never mind,’ she muttered. ‘We’ll get there all right. With the Help of God we’ll escape.’

  Hakim flared, ‘By God and the Prophet, what about your oath, Azadeh?’

  Her face was very pale now and she held on to her fingers to stop the tremble. ‘Please forgive me, Hakim, I’ve told you. And if I’m prevented from leaving with Erikki now, or if Erikki won’t take me with him, I’ll escape somehow, I will, I swear it, I swear it.’ She glanced at Erikki. ‘If Mac and all the others have fled, you could be used as a hostage.’

  ‘I know. I have to get out as fast as I can. But you have to stay. You can’t give up your religion just because of the two years, much as I loathe leaving you,’ Erikki said carefully. ‘You’re the sister of a Khan and you swore to stay.’

  ‘That’s between me and God,’ Azadeh said stubbornly.

  ‘Erikki, I must know your plan.’ Hakim interrupted coldly.

  ‘Sorry, I trust no one in this.’

  The Khan’s eyes narrowed to slits, and it took all of his will not to call the guard. ‘So there’s an impasse. Azadeh, pour me some coffee, please.’ At once she obeyed. He looked at the huge man who stood with his back to the fire. ‘Isn’t there?’

  ‘Please solve it, Hakim Khan,’ Erikki said. ‘I know you to be a wise man and I would do you no harm, or Azadeh harm.’

  Hakim accepted the coffee and thanked her, watched the fire, weighing and sifting, needing to know what Erikki had in his mind, wanting an end to all this and Erikki gone and Azadeh here and as she always was before, wise and gentle and loving and obedient—and Muslim. But he knew her too well to be sure she would not do as she threatened, and he loved her too much to allow her to carry out the threat.

  ‘Perhaps this would satisfy you, Erikki: I swear by God I will assist you, providing your plan
does not negate my sister’s oath, does not force her to apostatise, does not put her in spiritual danger or political danger. . .’ He thought a moment, ‘. . . does not harm her or harm me—and has a chance of success.’

  Azadeh bridled angrily, ‘That’s no help, how can Erikki possib—’

  ‘Azadeh!’ Erikki said curtly. ‘Where are your manners? Keep quiet. The Khan was talking to me, not you. It’s my plan he wants to know, not yours.’

  ‘Sorry, please excuse me,’ she said at once, meaning it. ‘Yes, you’re right. I apologise to both of you, please excuse me.’

  ‘When we were married, you swore to obey me. Does that still apply?’ he asked harshly, furious that she had almost ruined his plan, for he had seen Hakim’s eyes cross with rage and he needed him calm, not agitated.

  ‘Yes, Erikki,’ she told him immediately, still shocked by what Hakim had said, for that closed every path except the one she had chosen—and that choice petrified her. ‘Yes, without reservation, provided you don’t leave me.’

  ‘Without reservation—yes or no?’

  Pictures of Erikki flashed through her mind, his gentleness and love and laughter and all the good things, along with the brooding violence that had never touched her but would touch anyone who threatened her or stood in his way, Abdollah, Johnny, even Hakim—particularly Hakim.

  Without reservation, yes, she wanted to say, except against Hakim, except if you leave me. His eyes were boring into her. For the first time she was afraid of him. She muttered, ‘Yes, without any reservation. I beg you not tp leave me.’

  Erikki turned his attention to Hakim: ‘I accept what you said, thank you.’ He sat down again. Azadeh hesitated, then knelt beside him, resting her arm on his knees, wanting the contact, hoping it would help to push away her fear and anger with herself for losing her temper. I must be going mad, she thought. God help me. . .

  ‘I accept the rules you’ve set, Hakim Khan,’ Erikki was saying quietly. ‘Even so I’m still not going to tell you my pl—Wait, wait, wait! You swore you’d help if I didn’t put you at risk, and I won’t. Instead,’ he said carefully, ‘instead I’ll give you a hypothetical approach to a plan that might satisfy all your conditions.’ Unconsciously his hand began stroking her hair and her neck. She felt the tension leaving her. Erikki watched Hakim, both men ready to explode. ‘All right so far?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Say hypothetically my chopper was in perfect shape, that I’d been pretending I couldn’t start her properly to throw everyone off, and to get everyone used to the idea of the engines starting and stopping, say I’d lied about the fuel and there was enough for an hour’s flight, easily enough to get to the border and—’

  ‘Is there?’ Hakim said involuntarily, the idea opening a new avenue.

  ‘For the sake of this hypothetical story, yes.’ Erikki felt Azadeh’s grip tighten on his knee but pretended not to notice. ‘Say in a minute or two, before we all went to bed, I told you I wanted to start her again. Say I did just that, the engines caught and held enough to warm her and then died, no one’d worry—the Will of God. Everyone’d think the madman won’t leave well alone, why doesn’t he quit and let us sleep in peace? Then say I started her, pushed on all power and pulled her into the sky. Hypothetically I could be away in seconds—provided the guards didn’t fire on me, and provided there were no hostiles, Green Bands, or police with guns on the gate or outside the walls.’

  The breath escaped from Hakim’s lips. Azadeh shifted a little. The silk of her dress rustled. ‘I pray that such a make-believe could come to pass,’ she said.

  Hakim said, ‘It would be a thousand times better than a car, ten thousand times better. You could fly all the way by night?’

  ‘I could, providing I had a map. Most pilots who’ve spent time in an area keep a good map in their heads—of course, this is all make-believe.’

  ‘Yes, yes it is. Well, then, so far so good with your make-believe plan. You could escape this way, if you could neutralise the hostiles in the forecourt. Now, hypothetically, what about my sister?’

  ‘My wife isn’t in on any escape, real or hypothetical. Azadeh has no choice: she must stay of her own accord and wait the two years,’ Erikki saw Hakim’s astonishment and felt Azadeh’s instant rebellion under his fingers. But he did not allow his fingers to cease their rhythm on her hair and neck, soothing her, coaxing her, and he continued smoothly, ‘She is committed to stay in obedience to her oath. She cannot leave. No one who loves her, most of all me, would allow her to give up Islam because of two years. In fact, Azadeh, make-believe or not, it is forbidden. Understand?’

  ‘I hear what you say, husband,’ she said through her teeth, so angry she could hardly speak and cursing herself for falling into his trap.

  ‘You are bound by your oath for two years, then you can leave freely. It’s ordered!’

  She looked up at him, and said darkly, ‘Perhaps after two years I might not wish to leave.’

  Erikki rested his great hand on her shoulder, his fingers lightly around her neck. ‘Then, woman, I shall come back and drag you out by your hair.’ He said it so quietly with such venom that it froze her. In a moment she dropped her eyes and looked at the fire, still leaning against his legs. He kept his hand on her shoulder. She made no move to remove it. But he knew she was seething, hating him. Still he knew it was necessary to say what he had said.

  ‘Please excuse me a moment,’ she said, her voice like ice.

  The two men watched her leave.

  When they were alone, Hakim said, ‘Will she obey?’

  ‘No,’ Erikki said. ‘Not unless you lock her up and even then. . . No. Her mind’s made up.’

  ‘I will never, never allow her to break her oath and renounce Islam, you must understand that, even. . . even if I have to kill her.’

  Erikki looked at him. ‘If you harm her, you’re a dead man—if I’m alive.’

  At the Palace: 11:04 P.M. Silently the phosphorescent, red night-flying lights of the massed instrument panel came to life. Erikki’s finger pressed Engine Start. The jets caught, coughed, caught, hesitated as he eased the circuit breakers carefully in and out. Then he shoved them home. The engines began a true warm-up.

  Floodlights at half power were on in the forecourt. Azadeh and Hakim Khan, heavy-coated against the night cold, stood just clear of the turning blades, watching him. At the front gate a hundred yards or so away two guards and Hashemi’s two police also watched but idly. Their cigarettes glowed. The two policemen shouldered their Kalashnikovs and strolled nearer.

  Once more the engines spluttered and Hakim Khan called out over the noise, ‘Erikki, forget it for tonight!’ But Erikki did not hear him. Hakim moved away from the noise, nearer to the gate, Azadeh following him reluctantly. His walk was ponderous and awkward, and he cursed, unused to his crutches.

  ‘Greetings, Highness,’ the policemen said politely.

  ‘Greetings. Azadeh,’ Hakim said irritably, ‘your husband’s got no patience, he’s losing his senses. What’s the matter with him? It’s ridiculous to keep trying the engines. What good would it do even if he could start them?’

  ‘I don’t know, Highness.’ Azadeh’s face was white in the pale light and she was very uneasy. ‘He’s. . . since the raid he’s been very strange, very difficult, difficult to understand—he frightens me.’

  ‘I don’t wonder! He’s enough to frighten the Devil.’

  ‘Please excuse me, Highness,’ Azadeh said apologetically, ‘but in normal times he’s. . . he’s not frightening.’

  Politely the two policemen turned away, but Hakim stopped them. ‘Have you noticed any difference in the pilot?’

  ‘He’s very angry, Highness. He’s been angry for hours. Once I saw him kick the machine—but different or not is difficult to say. I’ve never been near to him before.’ The corporal was in his forties and wanted no trouble. The
other man was younger and even more afraid. Their orders were to watch and wait until the pilot left by car, or any car left, not to hinder its leaving but to report to HQ at once by their car radio. Both of them realised the danger of their position—the arm of the Gorgon Khan had a very long reach. Both knew of the servants and guards of the late Khan accused by him of treason still rotting in police dungeons. But both also knew the reach of Inner Intelligence was more certain.

  ‘Tell him to stop it, Azadeh, to stop the engines.’

  ‘He’s never before been so. . . so angry with me, and tonight. . .’ Her eyes almost crossed in her rage. ‘I don’t think I can obey him.’

  ‘You will!’

  After a pause she muttered, ‘When he’s even a little angry, I can do nothing with him.’

  The policemen saw her paleness and were sorry for her but more sorry for themselves—they had heard what had happened on the mountainside. God protect us from He of the Knife! What must it be like to marry such a barbarian who everyone knows drank the blood of the tribesmen he slaughtered, worships forest spirits against the law of God, and rolls naked in the snow, forcing her to do the same.

  The engines spluttered and began to die and they saw Erikki bellow with rage and smash his great fist on the side of the cockpit, denting the aluminum with the force of his blow.

  ‘Highness, with your permission I will go to bed—I think I will take a sleeping pill and hope that tomorrow is a better. . .’ Her words trailed off.

  ‘Yes. A sleeping pill is a good idea. Very good. I’m afraid I’ll have to take two, my back hurts terribly and now I can’t sleep without them.’ Hakim added angrily, ‘It’s his fault! If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be in pain.’ He turned to his bodyguard, ‘Fetch my guards on the gate, I want to give them instructions. Come along, Azadeh.’

  Painfully he walked off, Azadeh obediently and sullenly at his side. The engines started shrieking again. Irritably Hakim Khan turned and snapped at the policemen, ‘If he doesn’t stop in five minutes, order him to stop in my name! Five minutes, by God!’