Not possibility, certainty! he thought, more confident than he had ever been. We’ll be saved from bankruptcy, we’ll bury our enemies, the Mitsuwari and Gyokotomo, and gain nothing but face ourselves - and profit, vast profit! Oh, yes. And the added piece of good fortune, Kasigi allowed himself a cynical smile, the explosively important copy of dead Chief Engineer Kasusaka’s private report to Gyokotomo, dated and signed, that Watanabe had miraculously “found” in a forgotten file while I was in Al Shargaz! I’ll have to be very careful how I use it, oh, very careful indeed, but it makes it all the more important that I get home as soon as possible. The streets and alleys were clogged with traffic. Above, the sky was still overcast but the storm had passed through and he knew the weather was flyable. Ah, I wish I had my own airplane, he thought. Say a Lear jet. The reward for all my work here should be substantial.
He let himself drift happily, enjoying his sense of achievement and power. “It looks like we will be able to begin construction very soon now, Captain.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. The head of the new komiteh assured us of their cooperation. It seems he knows one of your pilots, a Captain Starke - his name’s Zataki.” Scragger glanced at him sharply. “He’s the one Duke, Duke Starke, saved from the leftists and flew to Kowiss. If I were you, cobber, I’d, er, watch him.” He told Kasigi how volatile the man was. “He’s a right madman.” “He didn’t give that appearance, not at all. Curious - Iranians are very… very curious. But more important, how are you feeling?”
“I’m bonzer now.” Scragger exaggerated blithely. Yesterday and all night had been very bad, all the cursing and shouting and being handcuffed, not being able to make anyone understand, surrounded by hostility, eyes everywhere. Lost. And afraid. The pain increasing. Time agonizingly slow, hope fading, sure that Minoru was injured or dead along with the driver so that no one would know where he was or what had happened.
“Nothing that a good cup of tea won’t cure. If you’d like to leave at once, I’m okay. Just a quick bath and shave and cuppa and some grub and we’ll be on our merry way.”
“Excellent. Then we’ll leave the moment you’re ready - Minoru has installed the radio and checked it.”
All the way to the refinery and during the flight back to Lengeh, Kasigi was in very good spirits. Near Kharg they thought they spotted the huge hammerhead shark Scragger had once mentioned. They kept low and close inshore, the clouds still low and heavy, nimbus here and there with an occasional flash of lightning menacing them but not badly, only a little bumpy now and then. Radar surveillance and clearances were efficient and immediate which increased Scragger’s foreboding. Two days to Whirlwind, not counting today, was in the forefront of his mind. Losing a day makes it all the more hairy, he thought anxiously. Wot’s happened since I was away? Well past Kharg he landed to refuel and take a break. His stomach still ached nastily and he noticed a little blood in his urine. Nothing to worry about, he told himself. Sure to be a little hemorrhage after an accident like that. Shit in a bucket but I was lucky! They were on a sandbank, finishing a packed lunch - cold rice and pieces of fish and pickles. Scragger had a big hunk of Iranian bread he had scrounged from the spotless cookhouse and lots of cold yakatori chicken and soy sauce that he enjoyed very much. Kasigi was sipping Japanese beer that Scragger had refused: “Thanks, but drinking and driving don’t mix.” Kasigi ate sparingly, Scragger hungrily and quickly. “Good grub,” he said. “Soon as you’re ready we’d better get on.”
“I’m finished.” Soon they were airborne again. “Will there be time to get me on to Al Shargaz or Dubai today?”
“Not if we go to Lengeh.” Scragger adjusted his headset slightly. “Tell you wot, when we get into Kish Traffic Control I’ll ask if I can divert to Bahrain. You could pick up an international or local flight there. We’ll need to refuel at Lavan but they’ll approve that if they agree. As I said, I owe you a couple.”
“You owe us nothing.” Kasigi smiled to himself. “At the komiteh meeting yesterday, this man Zataki asked how soon we’d have our chopper fleet up to strength. I promised immediate action. As you know Guerney no longer services us. What I’d like is three of your 212s and two 206s for the next three months, a year-long contract to be negotiated then, depending on our needs, renewable annually - with you in charge. Would that be possible?” Scragger hesitated, not knowing how to reply. Normally such an offer would send glad tiding bells ringing all the way to Aberdeen, Gavallan would be on the phone personally, and everyone would be in for a huge bonus. But with Whirlwind scheduled, Guerney out of the picture, and no one else available, there was no way to help Kasigi. “When, er, when would you need the birds to start?” he asked to give himself time to think.
“Immediately,” Kasigi continued blithely, watching a tanker below. “I guaranteed Zataki and the komiteh that if they cooperated we’d start up at once. Tomorrow or the next day at the latest. Perhaps you could ask your head office temporarily to divert some of the 212s stationed at Bandar Delam and not being used to capacity. Yes?”
“I’ll certainly ask, as soon as we land.”
“For a week or so we’ll need a temporary air link with Kuwait to pick up and replace crews from Japan - Zataki said their komiteh’d arrange with the Abadan airport komiteh today to open it for us, certainly by the end of the week. …”
Scragger was only half listening to the confident plans of this man who had befriended him, without whom he would still be handcuffed to the bed. His choice was simple: you tell him about Whirlwind or you leave him in the shit. But if you tell him you betray a bigger trust, a long-term trust. Kasigi might let Whirlwind slip. He’s bound to tell de Plessey. The question is how far can I trust him - and de Plessey?
Greatly unsettled he glanced out of his window and rechecked his position. “Sorry to interrupt but I’ve got to report in.” He pressed the send button: “Kish radar, this is HotelSierraTango, do you read?”
“HST, Kish radar, we read you four by five, go ahead.”
“HST on charter from Iran-Toda inbound to home base in Lengeh, approaching Lavan at one thousand, one passenger aboard. Request permission to refuel at Lavan and divert to Bahrain to drop my passenger who has urgent business on behalf of Iran.”
“Request refused, maintain one thousand and present heading.” “My passenger is Japanese, head of Iran-Toda, and urgently needs to consult his Japanese government on behalf of the Iran government’s wish to resume immediate operations. Request special consideration in this instance.” “Request refused. No trans-Gulf flights are authorized without a twenty-four-hour notice. Turn to 095 degrees for direct Lengeh, report abeam Kish, not overhead Kish. Do you copy?”
Scragger glanced at Kasigi who could also hear the exchange. “Sorry, mate.” He eased onto the new heading. “HST copies. Request clearance for Al Shargaz at dawn tomorrow with one passenger.”
“Standby One.” Static cracked in their earphones. To starboard the sea bridge of tankers continued, inbound and outbound, from or to the Gulf terminals of Saudi, the Emirates, Abu Dhabi, Bahrain, Kuwait, and Iraq. None were loading at Kharg or Abadan where normally a dozen would be serviced with another dozen waiting. Now there were only the swarms of ships waiting, some over two months. The sky was still overcast and nasty. “HST, this is Kish. In this instance your request is approved to go from Lengeh to Al Shargaz, tomorrow Wednesday twenty-eighth, noon departure. Until further notice all, repeat, all trans-Gulf flights will require a twenty-four-hour notice, and all, repeat, all engine starts require clearance. Do you copy?” Scragger swore, then acknowledged.