“Ah, Minister Kia, ah, yes!” Siamaki’s irritability softened a little. “What, er, what time do you both arrive back in Tehran tomorrow?” “Depending on the winds…” McIver’s eyes almost crossed as he had a sudden, almost overwhelming, desire to blurt out about Whirlwind. I must be going potty, he thought. With an effort he concentrated. “Depending on Minister Kia, the winds, and refueling, sometime in the afternoon.” “I will be waiting for you; I may even meet you at the airport if we know your ETA; there are checks to be signed and many rearrangements to be discussed. Please give Minister Kia my best wishes and wish him a pleasant stay in Kowiss. Salaam.” The transmission clicked off. McIver sighed, put the mike down. “Sergeant, while I’m here I’d like to call Bandar Delam and Lengeh.”
“I’ll have to ask base,” Wazari said.
“Go ahead.” McIver looked out the window. The weather was deteriorating, the southeaster crackling the wind sock and the stays of the radio mast. Thirty knots, gusting to thirty-five on the counter. Too much, he thought. The upended mud tank that had crashed through the roof was only a few yards away. He could see Hogg and Jones patiently waiting in the 125 cockpit, the cabin door invitingly open. Through the other window he saw Kia and Esvandiary had finished their inspection and were heading this way, toward the offices directly below. Idly he saw that a connector on the main roof aerial was loose, then noticed the wire almost free. “Sergeant, you’d better fix that right smartly, you could lose all transmission.” “Jesus, sure, thanks.” Wazari got up, stopped. Over the loudspeaker came: “This is Kowiss Tower. Request to call Bandar Delam and Lengeh approved.” He acknowledged, switched frequencies, and made the call.
“This’s Bandar Delam, go ahead Kowiss.” McIver’s heart picked up, recognizing Rudi Lutz’s voice.
Wazari handed the mike to McIver, his eyes outside on the faulty connection. “Sonofabitch,” he muttered, picked up some tools, opened the door onto the roof, and went out. He was still within easy hearing distance. The Green Band yawned, watching disinterestedly.
“Hello, Captain Lutz, McIver. I’m overnighting here,” McIver said matter-of- factly, choosing the words very carefully. “Had to escort a VIP, Minister Kia, from Tehran. How’re things at Bandar Delam?”
“We’re five by five but if…” The voice stopped. McIver had heard the inrush of breath and concern, quickly bottled. He glanced at Wazari who was squatting beside the connector. “How long… how long’re you staying, Mac?” Rudi asked.
“I’ll be en route tomorrow as planned. Providing the weather holds,” he added carefully.
“Understand. No sweat.”
“No sweat. All systems go for a long and happy year. How about you?” Another pause. “Everything five by five. All systems go for a long and happy year and vive the Imam!”
“Quite right. Reason for the call is that HQ Aberdeen urgently wants information about your ‘updated impress file.’” This was code for Whirlwind’s preparations. “Is it ready?”
“Yes, yes, it is. Where should I send it?” Code for: Do we still head for Al Shargaz?
“Gavallan’s in Al Shargaz on an inspection trip so send it there - it’s important you make a special effort and get it there quickly. I heard in Tehran there was a BA flight going into Abadan tomorrow. Get it on that flight for Al Shargaz tomorrow, all right?”
“Loud and clear. I’ve been working on the details all day.” “Excellent. How’s your crew change situation?”
“Great. Outgoing crew’ve gone, incoming replacements due Saturday, Sunday at the latest. Everything’s prepared for their arrival. I’ll be on the next crew change.”
“Good, I’m here if you want me. How’s your weather?”
A pause. “Stormy. It’s raining now. We’ve a southeaster.” “Same here. No sweat.”
“By the way, Siamaki called Numir, our IranOil manager, a couple of times.” “What about?” McIver said.
“Just checking on the base, Numir said.”
“Good,” McIver said carefully. “Glad he’s interested in our operations. I’ll call tomorrow, everything’s routine. Happy landings.”
“You too, thanks for calling.”
McIver signed off cursing Siamaki. Nosy bloody bastard! He looked outside. Wazari still had his back to him, kneeling beside the base of the aerial, near the skylight of the office below, totally concentrated, so he left him to it and made the call to Lengeh.
Scragger was quickly on the other end. “Hello, sport. Yes, we heard you were on the routine side trip escorting a VIP - Andy called from Al Shargaz. What’s the poop?”
“Routine. Everything’s as planned. HQ Aberdeen needs information of your ‘updated impress file.’ Is it ready?”
“Ready as she’ll ever be. Where should I send it?”
“Al Shargaz, that’s easiest for you. Can you get it over tomorrow?” “Gotcha, old sport, I’ll plan on it. How’s your weather?” “Southeasterly, thirty to thirty-five knots. Johnny said it might lighten tomorrow. You?”
“About the same. Let’s hope she dies down. No problem for us.” “Good. I’ll call tomorrow. Happy landings.”
“Same to you. By the way, how’s Lulu?”
McIver cursed under his breath, because in the excitement of the change of plan, having to escort Kia, he had totally forgotten his pledge to his car to save her from a fate worse than. He had just left her in one of the hangars as a further indication to the staff there he was returning tomorrow. “She’s fine,” he said. “How’s your medical?”
“Fine. How’s yours, old sport?”
“See you soon, Scrag.” Wryly McIver clicked off the sender. Now he was very tired. He stretched and got up, noticed that the Green Band had gone and Wazari was standing at the doorway from the roof, his face strange. “What’s the matter?”
“I… nothing, Captain.” The young man closed the door, chilled, was startled to see the tower empty but for the two of them. “Where’s the Green Band?”
“I don’t know.” Quickly Wazari checked the stairwell, then turned on him and dropped his voice: “What’s going on, Captain?”
McIver’s fatigue left him. “I don’t understand.”
“All those calls from Siamaki, telexes, guys leaving Tehran without permits, all the guys leaving here, spares going out, sneaked out.” He jerked a thumb at the skylight. “Minister arriving all of a sudden.”
“Crews need replacements, spares become redundant. Thanks for your help.” McIver began to walk around him but Wazari stood in his way. “Something’s mighty goddamn crazy! You can’t tell me th - ” He stopped, footsteps approaching from downstairs. “Listen, Captain,” he whispered urgently, “I’m on your side, I’ve a deal with your Captain Ayre, he’s gonna help me…”
The Green Band came stomping up the stairs into the room, said something in Farsi to Wazari, whose eyes widened.
“What did he say?” McIver asked.
“Esvandiary wants you below.” Wazari smiled sardonically, then went back out onto the roof again and squatted beside the connector, fiddling with it.
EN ESVANDIARY’S OFFICE: 5:40 P.M. Tom Lochart was frozen with rage, and so was McIver. “But our exit permits are valid and we’ve clearance to send personnel out today, right now!”
“With Minister Kia’s approval the permits’re held up until the replacements arrive,” Esvandiary said curtly. He sat behind the desk, Kia beside him, Lochart and McIver standing in front of him. On the desk was the pile of permits and passports. It was nearing sunset now. “Agha Siamaki agrees too.” “Quite correct.” Kia was amused and pleased at their discomfiture. Damned foreigners. “No need for all this urgency, Captain. Much better to do things in an orderly fashion, much better.”