Safe! Lost him! Insha’Allah! He took a deep breath and, very satisfied, turned southward again. Over the next ridge. And the next and there ahead were the plains. The two fighters were waiting. They were FMs.
Chapter 26
AT TEHRAN AIRPORT - S-G’S OFFICE: 5:48 P.M. “… you are not permitted to land!” came over the HF, heavily mixed with static - Gavallan, McIver, and Robert Armstrong grouped around it, listening intently, the vista through the windows dull and brooding, night near.
The breezy voice of John Hogg from the incoming 125 came back again: “Tehran Control, this is Echo Tango Lima Lima, as per yesterday, we have clearance from Kish to land an - ”
“ETLL, you are not permitted to land!” The traffic controller’s voice was raw and frightened and McIver cursed under his breath. “I say again: negative, all civilian air traffic is grounded and all incoming flights canceled until further orders of the Imam…” Behind his voice they could hear other voices chattering in Farsi, a number of mikes open on this frequency. “Return to your point of departure!”
“I say again, we have clearance to land from Kish radar who passed us to Isfahan air traffic controller who confirmed our clearance. Long live Ayatollah Khomeini and the victory of Islam - I am forty miles south of checkpoint Varamin, expecting runway 29 left. Please confirm your ILS is functioning. Do you have other traffic in your system?”
For a moment Farsi voices dominated the tower, then, “Negative traffic, ETLL, negative ILS but you are not per - ” The American English stopped abruptly and an angry, heavily accented voice took over: “Not landings! Komiteh give orders Tehran! Kish not Tehran - Isfahan not Tehran - we give orders Tehran. If landings you arrested.”
John Hogg’s happy voice replied at once. “EchoTangoLimaLima. Understand you don’t want us to land, Tehran Tower, and wish to reject our clearances which I believe is an error according to air traffic regulations - Standby One please.” Then at once on their private S-G frequency, mixed with static, came his terse voice, “HQ advise!”
Immediately McIver switched channels and said into the mike, “Three sixty, Standby One,” meaning circle and wait for a reply. He glanced up at Gavallan who was grim-faced. Robert Armstrong was whistling tonelessly. “We better wave him off - if he lands they could throw the book at him and impound her,” McIver said.
“With official clearances?” Gavallan said. “You told the tower we’ve the British ambassador’s letter approved by Bazargan’s office - ” “But not by Bazargan himself, sir,” Robert Armstrong said, “and even then for all practical purposes those buggers in the tower are the law in the tower for the moment. I’d suggest th - ” He stopped and pointed, his face even grimmer. “Look there!” Two trucks and a radio control car, with its tall aerial waving, were racing along the boundary road. As they watched, the trucks drove directly onto runway 29 left, parked in the middle of it. Armed Green Bands jumped out taking up defensive positions. The control car continued to head their way.
“Shit!” McIver muttered.
“Mac, do you think they’ll be monitoring our frequency?”
“Safer to assume so, Andy.”
Gavallan took the mike. “Abort. B repeat B.”
“EchoTangoLimaLima!” Then, on the tower frequency, kind and friendly: “Tehran Tower: we agree your request to cancel our clearance and formally apply for clearance to land at tomorrow noon to deliver urgent repeat urgent spares required by IranOil, outgoing crew for overdue leave, with immediate turnaround.”
McIver grunted. “Johnny always was fast on his feet.” Then to Armstrong, “We’ll put y - ”
“Standby One, EchoTangoLimaLima,” from the tower overrode him. “We’ll put you on her passenger list when we can, Mr. Armstrong. Sorry, no joy today. What about your papers?”
Armstrong took his eyes off the approaching car. “I, er, I’d prefer to be a specialist consultant for S-G, going on leave, if you don’t mind. Unpaid, of course.” He stared back at Gavallan. “What’s ‘B repeat B’?” “Try again tomorrow, same time.”
“And if they grant ETLL’s request?”
“Then it’s tomorrow - you’ll be a specialist consultant.” “Thanks. Let’s hope it’s tomorrow.” Armstrong looked at the approaching car, and added quickly, “Will you be in about ten tonight, Mr. Gavallan? Perhaps I could drop by - just to chat, nothing important.”
“Certainly. I’ll expect you. We’ve met before, haven’t we?” “Yes. If I’m not there by ten-fifteen I’ve been delayed and can’t come - you know how it is - and I’ll check in the morning.” Armstrong began to leave. “Thanks.”
“All right. Where did we meet?”
“Hong Kong.” Robert Armstrong nodded politely and walked out, tall and gaunt. They saw him go through the office and take the door that led to the hangar and the back door to the S-G parking lot where he had left his nondescript car - McIver’s car was parked in front.
“Almost as though he’s been here before,” McIver said thoughtfully. “Hong Kong? Don’t remember him at all. Do you?”
“No.” McIver frowned. “I’ll ask Gen, she has a good memory for names.” “I’m not sure I like or trust Robert bloody Armstrong, whatever Talbot says.”
At noon they had gone to see Talbot to find out the who and the why of Armstrong. All George Talbot would say was, “Oh, he’s rather decent really, and we’d, er, we’d appreciate your giving him a lift, and er, not asking too many questions. You’ll stay for lunch, of course? We’ve still some rather good Dover sole, fresh frozen, plenty of caviar or smoked salmon if you wish, a couple of La Doucette ‘76 on ice - or bangers and mash with the house claret which I’d highly recommend if you prefer. Chocolate pudding or sherry trifle, and we’ve still half of a fairly decent Stilton. The whole world may be on fire, but at least we can watch it burn like gentlemen. How about a pink gin before lunch?”
Lunch had been very good. Talbot had said that Bakhtiar’s leaving the field for Bazargan and Khomeini might avert most trouble. “Now that there’s no chance of a coup, things should get back to normal, eventually.” “When do you think’s ‘eventually’?”
“When ‘they,’ whoever ‘they’ are, run out of ammunition. But, my dear old boy, whatever I think really doesn’t matter. It’s what Khomeini thinks that matters, and only God knows what Khomeini thinks.”
Gavallan remembered the shrill cackle of laughter that Talbot had let out at his own joke and smiled.
“What?” McIver asked.
“I was just remembering Talbot at lunch.”
The car was still a hundred yards away. “Talbot’s hiding a mountain of secrets. What do you think Armstrong wants to ‘chat’ about?” “Probably to divert us some more - after all, Mac, we did go to the embassy to enquire about him. Curious! Usually I don’t forget… Hong Kong? Seem to associate him with the races at Happy Valley. It’ll come back to me. I’ll say one thing for him, he’s punctual. I told him five o’clock and he was here - even though he seemed to come out of the woodwork.” Gavallan’s eyes twinkled under his heavy eyebrows, then went back to the incoming car that was drawing up outside. “Sure as God made Scotland he didn’t want to meet our friendly komiteh. I wonder why?”