Esplanaded over the lake on stilts was an open-sided barbecue area and bar under a neat overhang, with a few steps that went down into the water for skiers, or for the motorboat that was tied up in its shelter nearby. Lochart was on the water’s edge, his hands up.
Ali had the automatic leveled. His orders from Seladi had been clear: go to the lake and wait. We will either call you back or send the pilot to find you. If the pilot comes looking for you, kill him and return at once. He had hated the order - bombarding or attacking revolutionaries or mutineers from a chopper gunship was not murder as this was murder. His face was ashen, he had never killed before and he asked God’s pardon, but an order was an order. “Sorry,” he said, hardly able to talk and began to pull the trigger.
At that instant Lochart’s legs seemed to collapse and he twisted over the side into the water. Automatically, Ali followed the movement, aimed for the center of the back as though at target practice, knowing he could never miss at this range. Fire!
“Stop!”
The fraction of a second he had hesitated was enough time for his brain to hear the order and obey it thankfully. With shuddering relief, he felt his finger release the pressure on the trigger. Valik rushed up to him and both of them peered into the water, murky here in the shade and quite deep. They waited. Lochart did not appear.
“Perhaps he’s under the floor - or under the raft,” Ali said, wiping the sweat off his face and hands, and thanking God that the pilot’s blood was not on his soul.
“Yes.” Valik was also sweating, but mostly with fear. He had never seen that look on his wife’s face before, the smile that promised a death in the night. It’s her vile ancestors, he thought. She’s Qajar, her lineage Qajars who could happily blind or murder rivals to the throne - or children of rivals - didn’t only one Qajar Shah in their 146-year dynasty relinquish his throne through natural death? Valik WHIRLWIND 371 looked around, saw her standing up at the head of the path, then turned back to Ali. “Give me your gun.”
Shakily Valik put the gun down on the rough wooden planking, and called out: “Lochart, I’ve left you a gun. This was all a mistake. The captain was mistaken.” “But, General - ”
“Go up to the chopper,” Valik ordered loudly. “Seladi’s a fool - he should never have given you orders to kill this poor man. We leave at once and we go to Kuwait - not Baghdad. Ali, go and start the aircraft!” Ali left. As he passed Annoush he eyed her curiously, then hurried onward. She walked down and joined Valik. “You saw?” he asked. “Yes.” They waited. No sound here, no tide to lap the pilings. It was beautiful and calm, the surface of the lake glassy and windless. “I… I pray he’s hiding somewhere,” she said, a great void in her soul, but now time to heal the breach. “I’m glad his blood’s not on our Minds. Seladi’s a monster.” “We’d better go back.” They were quite hidden from the chopper and the house. He took out his automatic and fired it once into the ground nearby. “For Seladi. I, er, think I hit Lochart when… when he surfaced. Eh?” She took his arm. “You’re a wise and good man.” They walked back up the rise, arm in arm. “Without you, your cleverness and courage, we would never have escaped Isfahan. But exile? Wh - ”
“Temporary exile,” he said jovially, filled with relief that the vile moment between them had passed. “Then we’ll come home again.”
“That would be wonderful,” she said, forcing herself to believe it. I’ve got to or I’ll go mad. I’ve got to for the children! “I’m glad you chose Kuwait - I never liked Baghdad, and those Iraqis, ugh!” Her eyes still had shadows in them. “What Lochart said about waiting till after dark was wrong?” “There’s an air base within a few miles. We could have been seen on radar, Annoush, or by spotters in the hills. Seladi’s right in that - the base will send a patrol after us.” They topped the rise. The children were waiting for them in the cabin doorway, everyone else aboard. They quickened their pace. “Kuwait’s much safer. I’d already decided to overrule that pompous fool Seladi - he’s never to be trusted.”
In minutes they were airborne, heading northward over the rim of these hills, skirting the crags, hugging the ground to avoid the nearby danger from the air base. Ali Abassi was a good pilot and knew the area well. Once over the rim and down into the valley he turned west and scurried through a pass to avoid the outer perimeter of the airfield, the Iraqi border some fifty miles farther ahead. Snow covered the heights of the mountains far above them and parts of the slopes, though the floor of some valleys were green, here and there, among the rocky wilderness. They thundered over an unexpected and unknown village, then curled almost due south, again following the water course, paralleling the border that was far to their right. The whole flight would take barely two hours, depending on the winds, and the winds were favorable.
Those in the cabin near the windows happily watched the land rushing past, the two children given the best positions, the major holding Jalal, Valik, his daughter beside Annoush. Everyone was content, a few praying silently. Sunset was not far off and would be good, red-tinged clouds - “red sky at night, shepherds’ delight,” Annoush crooned to Setarem in English - and, up front, the engines sounded good with all needles in the Green. Ali was glad to be flying, glad that he had not killed Lochart who had stood there in front of him, saying nothing, not begging for his life or saying prayers, just standing there with his hands up, waiting. I’m sure he’s safe under the pilings, thanks be to God…
He took a quick glance at the map, refreshing his memory. But he did not really need to, he had spent many good years here, flying the passes. Soon he would come down out of the mountains into the marsh plains of the Tigris and Euphrates, staying at ground level, skirting Dezful, then Ahwaz and Khorramshahr, then stab across the Shatt-al-Arab Estuary and the border, into Kuwait and freedom.
Ahead was the ridge with the dominating peak that he had been expecting and he swung upward out of the valley to swoop down into the next, the joy of flying possessing him. Then “HBC, climb to a thousand feet and reduce speed!” filled his headphones and brain. He had been airborne barely six minutes.
The order had been in Farsi arid it was repeated in English and then in Farsi and again in English, and all the while he kept her low, desperately trying to get his head working.
“Chopper HBC, you’re illegal, climb out of the valley and reduce speed.” Ali Abbasi peered upward, searching the sky, but he saw no airplane. The valley floor was tearing past. Ahead was another rim and then there’d be a succession of rims and valleys that led down to the plains. Westward the Iraqi border was forty-odd miles away - twenty minutes. “Chopper HBC, for the last time, you’re illegal, climb out of the valley and reduce speed!”
His brain shouted, You’ve three choices: obey and die, try to escape, or put down and wait the night and try at first light - if you survive their rockets or bullets.
Ahead of him to the left he saw trees and the land falling away, the sides of the valley steepening into a ravine, so he cast himself into it, committing them to escape. Now his mind was working well. He pulled off his headset, put himself into the hands of God, and felt the better for it. He slowed as he came nearer the end of the ravine, skirted some trees and ducked into another small valley, reduced speed even more, following the streambed cautiously. More trees and outcrops and he sneaked around them. Stay low and slow and save gas and ease your way south, he thought with growing confidence. Go nearer the border when you can take your time. They’ll never catch you if you use your wits. It’ll be dark soon - you can lose them in the dark and you know enough about instrument flying to get to Kuwait. But how did they spot us? It was almost as though they were waiting. Could they have had us on radar going into Dez Dam - Watch itttttt! The trees were heavier here and he slewed around a scattering of them on the mountainside, went closer to the rocks, and climbed for the ridge and the next valley. Over it safely and down into the protection of the rocks, eyes searching ahead and above and always for a good spot to put down if an engine failed. He was concentrating and confident and doing his job well. All the instruments were in the safety range. Minutes passed and though he searched the sky diligently he saw nothing. At the head of the next valley he put the chopper into a 360 and carefully scanned the sky. Nothing overhead.