“Yeah, Captain, you did but I, er, I couldn’t sleep and… I don’t feel safe over in the base.” Wazari noticed McIver’s flushed face and the crude paper bandage. “You okay?”
“Yes, I’m all right, just cut my finger on the broken window.” McIver glanced at Lochart who was sweating as much as he was. “We’d better be going, Tom. Sergeant, we’re ground-testing the 212s.” He saw Lochart glance at him abruptly. “Yes sir. I’ll inform base,” Wazari said. “No need for that.” Momentarily McIver was at a loss, then the answer came to him. “For your own sake, if you’re going to hang around here, you’d better get ready for Minister Kia.” The color went out of the man’s face. “What?” “He’s due shortly for the return flight to Tehran. Weren’t you the only witness against him and poor bloody Hotshot?”
“Sure, but I heard them,” Wazari flared, needing to justify himself. “Kia’s a bastard and a liar and so’s Hotshot and they had this deal cooking. Have you forgotten Hotshot was the one who ordered Ayre beaten up? They would have killed him, have you forgotten mat? Esvandiary and Kia, everything 1 said was true, it was true.”
“I’m sure it was. I believe you. But he’s bound to be plenty bloody aggravated if he sees you, isn’t he? So will the office staff, they were all very angry. They’ll certainly give you away. Perhaps I can divert Kia,” McIver said as a sop, hoping to keep him on their side, “perhaps not. If I were you I’d make myself scarce, don’t hang around here. Come on, Tom.” McIver turned to go but Wazari stood in his way.
“Don’t forget I’m the one who stopped a massacre by saying Sandor’s load shifted, but for me he’d be dead, but for me you’d all be up before a komiteh… you’ve got to help me…” Tears were streaming down his face now, “you gotta help me…”
“I’ll do what I can,” McIver said, sorry for him, and walked out. Outside he had to stop himself from running over to the others, seeing their anxiety, then Lochart caught up with him.
“Whirlwind?” he asked, having to hurry to keep alongside. “Yes, Andy pressed the button on the dot at 0700 as planned, Scrag and Rudi copied and are probably already on their way,” McIver said, the words tumbling over one another, not noticing Lochart’s sudden despair. Now they reached Ayre and the mechanics. “Whirlwind!” McIver croaked and to all of them the word sounded like a clarion call.
“Jolly good.” Freddy Ayre kept his voice flat, holding his excitement inside. The others did not. “Why the delay? What happened?” “Tell you later, start up, let’s get on with it!” McIver headed for the first 212, Ayre the second, the mechanics already jumping into the cabins. At that moment a staff car with Colonel Changiz and some airmen swung into the compound and stopped outside the office building. All the airmen carried guns, all wore green armbands.
“Ah, Captain, you’re flying Minister Kia back to Tehran?” Changiz seemed a little flustered, and angry.
“Yes, yes, I am, at ten, ten o’clock.”
“I had a message that he wants to bring his departure forward to eight o’clock but you’re not to leave until ten as your clearance states. Clear?” “Yes, but th - ”
“I would have phoned but your phones are out again and there’s something wrong with your radio. Don’t you service your equipment? It was working then went off.” McIver saw the colonel look at the three choppers lined up, begin to go toward them. “I didn’t know you had revenue flights today.” “Just ground-testing one and the other has to test avionics for tomorrow’s crew change at Rig Abu Sal, Colonel,” McIver said hastily and to further divert him, “What’s the problem with Minister Kia?”
“No problem,” he said irritably, then glanced at his watch and changed his mind about inspecting the helicopters. “Get someone to fix your radio and you come with me. The mullah Hussain wants to see you. We’ll be back in good time.”
Lochart got his mouth moving. “I’d be glad to drive Captain McIver over in a minute, there’re a few things here he sho - ”
“Hussain wants to see Captain McIver, not you - now! You deal with the radio!” Changiz told his men to wait for him, got into the driver’s seat, and beckoned McIver to sit beside him. Blankly, McIver obeyed. Changiz drove off and his driver wandered toward the office, the other airmen spread out, peered at the choppers. Both 212s were crammed with the last of the important spares, loaded last night. Trying to be nonchalant, the mechanics closed the cabin doors, started polishing.
Ayre and Lochart stared after the departing car. Ayre said, “Now what?” “I don’t know - we can’t leave without him.” Lochart felt nauseous.
AT BANDAR DELAM: 7:26 A.M. The four 212s were out of the hangar parked for takeoff. Fowler Joines and the other three mechanics were pottering in the back of the cabins, waiting impatiently. Unwieldy forty-gallon drums of reserve gasoline were lashed in place. Many crates of spares. Suitcases hidden under tarpaulins.
“Com’ on, for effs sweet sake,” Fowler said and wiped the sweat off, the air of the cabin heavy with gasoline.
Through the open cabin door he could see Rudi, Sandor, and Pop Kelly still waiting in the hangar, everything ready as planned except for the last pilot, Dubois, ten minutes late and no one knowing if Base Manager Numir or one of the staff or Green Bands had intercepted him. Then he saw Dubois come out of his door and almost had a fit. With Gallic indifference, Dubois was carrying a suitcase, his raincoat over his arm. As he strolled passed the office, Numir appeared at the window.
“Let’s go,” Rudi croaked and went for his cabin as calmly as he could, clipped on his seat belt, and stabbed Engines Start. Sandor did likewise, Pop Kelly a second behind him, their rotors gathering speed. Leisurely, Dubois tossed his suitcase to Fowler, laid his raincoat carefully on a crate, and got into the pilot’s seat, at once started up, not bothering with his seat belt or checklist. Fowler was swearing incoherently. Their jets were building nicely and Dubois hummed a little song, adjusted his headset, and now, when all was prepared, fastened his seat belt. He did not see Numir rush out of his office.
“Where are you going?” Numir shouted to Rudi through his side window. “Iran-Toda, it’s on the manifest.” Rudi continued with the start-up drill. VHF on, HF on, needles coming into the Green.
“But you haven’t asked Abadan for engine start an - ”
“It’s Holy Day, Agha, you can do that for us.”
Numir shouted angrily, “That’s your job! You’re to wait for Zataki. You must wait for the col - ”
“Quite right, I want to make sure my chopper’s ready the instant he arrives - very important to please him, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but why was Dubois carrying a suitcase?”
“Oh, you know Frenchmen,” he said, saying the first thing that came into his head, “clothes are important; he’s sure he’s going to be based at Iran-Toda and he’s taking a spare uniform.” His gloved thumb hovered over the transmit switch on the col-umn. Don’t, he ordered himself, don’t be impatient, they all know what to do, don’t be impatient.
Then, behind Numir, through the haze, visibility down to a few hundred yards, Rudi saw the Green Band truck lumber through the main gate and stop, its noise covered by their jets. But it wasn’t Zataki, just some of their normal Green Band guards and they stood there in a group watching the 212s curiously. Never before had four 212s been started up at once. In his headphones he heard Dubois, “Ready, mon vieux,” then Pop Kelly, then Sandor, and he clicked the send switch and said into the boom mike, “Go!,” leaned closer to the window, and beckoned Numir. “No need for the others to wait, I’m waiting.”
“But you were ordered to go in a group and your clearances…” The base manager’s voice was drowned by the mass of engines shoved to full power, emergency takeoff procedure, conforming to the plan the pilots had secretly agreed on last night, Dubois going right, Sandor left, Kelly straight ahead like a covey of snipe scattering. In seconds they were airborne and away, staying very low. Numir’s face went purple, “But you were told th…” “This is for your safety, Agha, we’re trying to protect you,” Rudi called over the jets, beckoning him forward again, all his own needles in the Green; “this way’s better, Agha, this way we’ll do the job and no problem. We’ve got to protect you and IranOil.” In his earphones he heard Dubois break mandatory radio silence and say urgently, “There’s a car almost at the gates!”