“The flight is orderly, Minister Kia,” McIver said tight-lipped. “We’ve the permits. I insist the plane leaves as planned!”
“This is Iran, not England.” Esvandiary sneered. “Even there I doubt if you could insist on anything.” He was very pleased with himself. Minister Kia had been delighted with his pishkesh - the revenue from a future oil well - and had at once offered him a seat on the IHC board. Then, to his vast amusement, Kia had explained that exit permits should have fees attached to them: Let the foreigners sweat, the minister had added. By Saturday they will be most anxious of their own accord to press on you say three hundred U.S. dollars in cash, per head. “As the minister says,” he said importantly, “we should be orderly. Now I’m busy, good aftern - ”
The door swung open and now Starke was in the small office, his face blotchy, his good fist bunched, left arm in a sling. “What the hell’s with you, Esvandiary? You can’t cancel the permits!”
McIver burst out, “For God’s sake, Duke, you shouldn’t be here!” “The permits’re postponed, not canceled. Postponed!” Esvandiary’s face contorted. “And how many times do I have to tell you ill-mannered people to knock? Knock! This isn’t your office, it’s mine, I run this base, you don’t, and Minister Kia and I are having a meeting that you’ve all interrupted! Now get out, get out the lot of you!” He turned to Kia as though the two of them were alone and said in Farsi in a new voice, “Minister, I do apologize for all of this, you see what I have to deal with. I strongly recommend we nationalize all foreign airplanes and use our own p - ”
Starke’s jaw jutted. He bunched his fist. “Listen you sonofabitch.” “GET OUT!” Esvandiary reached into his drawer where there was an automatic. But he never pulled it out. The mullah Hussain came through the door, Green Bands behind him. A sudden silence pervaded the room.
“In the Name of God, what’s going on here?” Hussain said in English, cold hard eyes on Esvandiary and Kia. At once Esvandiary got up and began to explain, speaking Farsi, Starke cut in with their side, and soon both men were getting louder and louder. Impatiently Hussain held up his hand. “First you, Agha Esvandiary. Please speak Farsi so my komiteh can understand.” He listened impassively to the long-winded Farsi address, his four Green Bands crowding the door. Then he motioned to Starke. “Captain?” Starke was carefully brief and blunt.
Hussain nodded at Kia. “Now you, Excellency Minister. May I see your authority to override Kowissi authority and exit permits?” “Override, Excellency Mullah? Postpone? Not I,” Kia said easily. “I’m merely a servant of the Imam, God’s peace upon him, and of his personally appointed prime minister and his government.”
“Excellency Esvandiary said you approved the postponement.” “I merely agreed with his wish for an orderly rearrangement of foreign personnel.”
Hussain looked down at the desk. “Those are the exit permits with passports?”
Esvandiary’s mouth went dry. “Yes, Excellency.”
Hussain scooped them up and handed them to Starke. “The men and airplane will leave at once.”
“Thank you, Excellency,” Starke said, the strain of standing getting to him. “Let me help.” McIver took the passports and permits from him. “Thank you, Agha,” he said to Hussain, elated with their victory.
Hussain’s eyes were just as cold and hard as ever. “The Imam has said, ‘If foreigners want to leave, let them leave, we have no need of them.’” “Er, yes, thank you,” McIver said, not liking to be near this man at all. He went out. Lochart followed.
Starke was saying in Farsi, “I’m afraid I have to go on the airplane too, Excellency.” He told him what Doc Nutt had said, adding in English, “I don’t want to go but well, that’s it. Insha’Allah.”
Hussain nodded absently. “You won’t need an exit permit. Go aboard. I will explain to the komiteh. I will see the airplane leave.” He walked out and went up to the tower to inform Colonel Changiz of his decision. It took no time at all for the 125 to be filled. Starke was last to the gangway, legs very shaky now. Doc Nutt had given him enough painkillers to get him aboard. “Thank you, Excellency,” he said to Hussain over the howl of the jets, still afraid of him yet liking him, not knowing why. “God’s peace be with you.”
Over Hussain now hung a strange pall. “Corruption and lies and cheating are against the laws of God, aren’t they?”
“Yes, yes they are.” Starke saw Hussain’s indecision. Then the moment passed.
“God’s peace be with you, Captain.” Hussain turned and stalked off. The wind freshened slightly.
Weakly Starke climbed the steps, using his good hand, wanting to walk tall. At the top he held onto the handrail and turned back a moment, head throbbing, chest very bad. So much left here, so much, too much, not just choppers and spares and material things - so much more. Goddamn, I should be staying, not leaving. Bleakly he waved farewell to those who were left behind and gave them a thumbs-up, achingly aware that he was thankful not to be among them.
In the office Esvandiary and Kia watched the 125 taxiing away. God’s curse on them, may they all bum for interfering, Esvandiary thought. Then he threw off his fury, concentrating on the vast feast that selected friends who desperately wished to meet Minister Kia, his friend and fellow director, had arranged, the entertainment of dancers to follow, then the temporary marriages …
The door opened. To his astonishment, Hussain came in, livid with rage, Green Bands crowding after him. Esvandiary got up. “Yes, Excellency? What can I d - ” He stopped as a Green Band roughly pulled him out of the way to allow Hussain to sit behind the desk. Kia sat where he was, perplexed. Hussain said, “The Imam, God’s peace on him, has ordered komitehs to cast out corruption wherever it is to be found. This is the Kowiss air base komiteh. You are both accused of corruption.”
Kia and Esvandiary blanched and both started talking, claiming that this was ridiculous and they were falsely accused. Hussain reached over and jerked the gold band of the gold watch on Esvandiary’s wrist. “When did you buy this and with what did you pay?”
“My… my savings and - ”
“Liar. Pishkesh for two jobs. The komiteh knows. Now, what about your scheme to defraud the state, secretly offering future oil revenues to corrupt officials for future services?”
“Ridiculous, Excellency, lies all lies!” Esvandiary shouted in panic. Hussain looked at Kia who also had gone pasty gray. “What officials, Excellency?” Kia asked, keeping his voice calm, sure that his enemies had set him up to be trapped far away from the seat of his influence. Siamaki! It has to be Siamaki!
Hussain motioned to one of the Green Bands who went out and brought in the radio operator, Wazari. “Tell them, before God, what you told me,” he ordered.
“As I told you earlier, I was on the roof, Excellency,” Wazari said nervously; “I was checking one of our lines and overheard them through the skylight. I heard him make the offer.” He pointed a blunt finger at Esvandiary, delighted for an opportunity for revenge. If it hadn’t been for Esvandiary, I’d’ve never have been picked on by that madman Zataki, never been beaten and hurt, never been almost killed. “They were speaking English and he said, I can arrange to divert oil revenues from new wells, I can keep the wells off the lists and can divert funds to you…”
Esvandiary was appalled. He had carefully sent all the Iranian staff out of the office building and further, for safety, talked English. Now he was damned. He heard Wazari finish and Kia begin to speak, quietly, calmly, avoiding all complicity, saying he was only leading this corrupt and evil man on: “I was asked to visit here for just this purpose, Excellency, sent here by the Imam’s government, God protect him, for just this purpose: to root out corruption wherever it existed. May I congratulate you on being so zealous. If you will allow me, the moment I get back to Tehran, I will commend you directly to the Revolutionary Komiteh itself - and of course to the prime minister.”