“Highness!” he bellowed. “Highness …” then leaned forward and grabbed him for a moment, released him, and rushed across the room, tore open the door. “Nurse!” he shouted and rushed into the next room, grabbed the woman out of her deep sleep and half carried, half dragged her back to the Khan. “Oh, my God,” she muttered, weak with relief that it had not happened while she was alone, perhaps to be blamed by this knife-wielding, violent bodyguard or these mad people, screaming and raving. Sickly awake now, she wiped her brow and pushed her hair into shape, feeling naked without her headdress. Quickly she did what she had to and closed his eyes, her ears hearing Ahmed moaning and grief-stricken. “Nothing anyone could do, Agha,” she was saying. “It could have happened any time. He was in a great deal of pain, his time had come, better this way, better than living as a vegetable.”
“Yes… yes, I suppose so.” Ahmed’s tears were real. Tears of relief. “Insha’Allah. Insha’Allah.”
“What happened?”
“I… I was dozing and he just… just gasped and started to bleed from his nose and mouth.” Ahmed wiped some of the tears away, letting his voice break. “I grabbed him as he was falling out of bed and then … then I don’t know I… he just collapsed and … and I came running for you.” “Dinna worry, Agha, nothing anyone could do. Sometimes it’s sudden and quick, sometimes not. Better to be quick, that’s a blessing.” She sighed and straightened her uniform, glad it was over and now she could leave this place. “He, er, he should be cleaned before the others are summoned.” “Yes. Please let me help, I wish to help.”
Ahmed helped her sponge away the blood and make him presentable and all the time he was planning: Najoud and Mahmud to be banished before noon, the rest of their punishment a year and a day from now; find out if Fazir caught Petr Oleg; make sure the ransom messenger’s throat was cut this afternoon as he had ordered in the Khan’s name.
Fool, he said to the corpse, fool to think I’d arrange to pay ransom to bring back the pilot to fly you to Tehran to save your life. Why save a life for a few more days or a month? Dangerous to be sick and helpless with your sickness, minds become deranged, oh, yes, the doctor told me what to expect, losing more of your mind, more vindictive than ever, more dangerous man ever, dangerous enough to perhaps turn on me! But now, now the suc cession is safe, I can dominate the whelp and with the help of God marry Azadeh. Or send her north - her hole’s like any other. The nurse watched Ahmed from time to time, his deft strong hands and their gentleness, for the first time glad of his presence and not afraid of him, now watching him combing the beard People are so strange, she thought. He must have loved this evil old man very much.
Wednesday - February 28
Chapter 54
TEHRAN: 6:55 A.M. McIver continued sorting through the files and papers he had taken from the big office safe, putting only those that were vital into his briefcase. He had been at it since five-thirty mis morning and now his head ached, his back ached, and the briefcase was almost full. So much more I should be taking, he thought, working as fast as he could. In an hour, perhaps less, his Iranian staff would arrive, and he would have to stop. Bloody people, he thought irritably, never here when we wanted them but now for the last few days, can’t get rid of them, like bloody limpets: “Oh, no, Excellency, please allow me to lock up for you, I beg you for the privilege…” or “Oh, no, Excellency, I’ll open the office for you, I insist, that is not the job of Your Excellency.” Maybe I’m getting paranoid, but it’s just as though they’re spies, ordered in to watch us, the partners more nosy than ever. Almost as though someone’s on to us. And yet, so far - touch wood - everything’s working like a well-tuned jet: us out by noon today or a little after; already Rudi’s poised for Friday with all of his extra bods and a whole load of spares already out of Bandar Delam by road to Abadan where a BA Trident snuck in, cleared by Duke’s friend Zataki to evacuate British oilers; at Kowiss, by now Duke should have cached the extra fuel, all his lads still cleared to leave tomorrow on the 125 - touch more wood - already three truckloads of spares out to Bushire for transshipment to Al Shargaz; Hotshot, Colonel Changiz, and that damned mullah, Hussain, still behaving themselves, fifty times touch wood; at Lengeh Scrag‘11 be having no problems, plenty of coastal ships available for his spares and nothing more to do but wait for D - no, not D day - W day. Only bad spot, Azadeh. And Erikki. Why the devil didn’t she tell me before leaving on a wild-goose chase after poor old Erikki? My God, she escapes Tabriz with the skin of her skin and then goes and puts her pretty little head back in it. Women! They’re all crazy. Ransom? Balls! I’ll bet it’s another trap set by her father, the rotten old bastard. At the same time, it’s just as Tom Lochart said: She would have gone anyway, Mac, and would you have told her about Whirlwind?
His stomach began churning. Even if the rest of us get out there’s still the problem of Erikki and Azadeh. Then there’s poor old Tom and Sharazad. How the hell can we get those four to safety? Must come up with something. We’ve two more days, perhaps by th - He whirled, startled, not having heard the door open. His chief clerk, Gorani, stood in the doorway, tall and balding, a devout Shi’ite, a good man who had been with them for many years. “Salaam, Agha.”
“Salaam. You’re early.” McIver saw the man’s open surprise at all the mess - normally McIver was meticulously tidy - and felt as though he’d been caught with his hand in the chocolate box.
“As God wants, Agha. The Imam’s ordered normality and everyone to work hard for the success of the revolution. Can I help?”
“Well, er, no, no, thank you, I, er, I’m just in a hurry. I’ve lots to do today, I’m off to the embassy.” McIver knew his voice was running away from him but he was unable to stop it. “I’ve, er, appointments all day and must be at the airport by noon. I have to do some homework for the Doshan Tappeh komiteh. I won’t come back to the office from the airport so you can close early, take the afternoon off - in fact you can take the day off.” “Oh, thank you, Agha, but the office should remain open until the us - ” “No, we’ll close for the day when I leave. I’ll go straight home and be there if I’m needed. Please come back in ten minutes, I want to send some telexes.”
“Yes, Agha, certainly, Agha.” The man left.
McIver hated the twistings of the truth. What’s going to happen to Gorani? he asked himself again, to him and all the rest of our people all over Iran, some of them fine, them and their families?
Unsettled, he finished as best he could. There were 100,000 rials in the cashbox. He left the notes, relocked the safe, and sent some inconsequential telexes. The main one he had sent at five-thirty this morning to Al Shargaz with a copy to Aberdeen in case Gavallan had been delayed: “Air freighting the five crates of parts to Al Shargaz for repairs as planned.” Translated, the code meant that Nogger, Pettikin and he, and the last two mechanics he had not yet been able to get out of Tehran, were readying to board the 125 today, as planned, and it was still all systems go.
“Which crates are these, Agha?” Somehow Gorani had found the copies of the telex.
“They’re from Kowiss, they’ll go on the 125 next week.”
“Oh, very well. I’ll check it for you. Before you go, could you please tell me when does our 212 return? The one we lent to Kowiss.”
“Next week, why?”
“Excellency Minister and Board Director Ali Kia wanted to know, Agha.” McIver was instantly chilled. “Oh? Why?”
“He probably has a charter for it, Agha. His assistant came here last night, after you had left, and he asked me. Minister Kia also wanted a progress report today of our three 212s sent out for repairs. I, er, I said I would have it today - he’s coming this morning so I can’t close the office.” They had never discussed the three aircraft, or the peculiarly great number of spares they had been sending out by truck, car, or as personal baggage - no aircraft space for freight. It was more than possible that Gorani would know the 212s did not need repair. He shrugged and hoped for the best. “They’ll be ready as planned. Leave a note on the door.”