It was the voice of François Menange, the manager of the rig they had just passed, and he cursed the man’s vigilance. To close him down, he clicked on the transmit: “Mum’s the word, François, quiet, eh? Practicing. Be quiet, eh?”
Now the voice was laughing. “Bien sur, but you’re crazy to practice low on a day like today. Adieu.”
Sweat was beginning again. Four more rigs to pass before he could turn into the open sea.
They went through the first squall line, the wind buffeting them, rain loud on the windows, streaking them, plenty of sheet lightning all around. Willi and Vossi were tight on station and he was pleased to be flying with them. Forty times I thought Qeshemi was going to say, “You comealongame” and take me down to the pokey. But then he didn’t and here we are and in an hour forty-odd minutes we’ll be home and Iran only a memory.
Chapter 62
AT KOWISS AIR BASE HQ: 9:46 A.M. The mullah Hussain said patiently, “Tell me more about Minister Kia, Captain.” He sat behind the desk in the base commander’s office. A hard-faced Green Band guarded the door. “I’ve told you everything I know,” McIver said exhaustedly. “Then please tell me about Captain Starke.” Polite, insistent, and unhurried as though there were all day and all night and all tomorrow. “I’ve told you about him, too, Agha. I’ve told you about them both for almost a couple of hours. I’m tired and there’s nothing more to tell.” McIver got up from his chair and stretched and sat down again. No use trying to leave. He had done that once and the Green Band had silently motioned him back. “Unless you have something specific I can’t think of anything to add.” He had not been surprised at the mullah probing about Kia and had repeated over and over-how a few weeks ago Kia had suddenly been made a director out of nowhere, about his own limited dealings with him in the last few weeks, though not about the checks on banks in Switzerland that had greased the way for the 125 and got three 212s out of the cauldron. Damned if I’m going to do a Wazari on Kia, he had told himself.
Kia’s understandable, but why Duke Starke? Where Duke went to school, what he eats, how long he’s been married, one wife or more, how long with the company, is he Catholic or Protestant - anything and everything and then tell it all again. Insatiable. And always the same quiet, evasive answer to his question, Why?
“Because he interests me, Captain.”
McIver looked out of the window. A speckle of rain. Clouds low. Distant thunder. There’d be updrafts and a few real whirlwinds in the thunderclouds eastward - great cover for the dash across the Gulf. What’s happening with Scrag and Rudi and their lads? rushed back into the forefront of his mind. With an effort he pushed that away for later - and his weariness, and worry - and what the hell he was going to do when this interrogation finished. If it finished. Beware! Concentrate! You’ll make a mistake if you’re not a hundred percent, then you’ll all be lost.
He knew his reserves were badly depleted. Last night he had slept badly and that had not helped. Nor had Lochart’s enormous sadness over Sharazad. Difficult for Tom to face the truth, impossible to say it to him: Wasn’t it bound to fall apart, Tom, old friend? She’s Muslim, she’s rich, you’ll never be, her heritage’s bound in steel, yours in gossamer, her family’s her lifeblood, yours isn’t, she can stay, you can’t, and the final sword hanging over you, HBC. So sad, he thought. Did it ever have a chance? With the Shah, maybe. With the inflexibility of the new?
What would I do if I were Tom? With an effort he stopped his mind wandering. He could feel the mullah’s eyes boring into him. They had hardly wavered once since Changiz had brought him here and had gone away. Ah, yes, Colonel bloody Changiz. In the car coming over here and during the waiting he too had been probing. But his probing was just to establish exactly when and how often their 125 was scheduled for Kowiss, how many Green Bands were stationed on their side of the base, when they arrived, how many stayed on the base, and did they surround and guard the 125 all the time she was on the ground. The questioning had been casual, nothing asked that could not be more than just interest, but McIver was certain the real reason was to erect an escape route - if necessary. The final cement, the barter: “Even in a revolution mistakes happen, Captain. Friends are needed in high places more than ever, sad but true.” You scratch my back or I’ll claw yours. The mullah got up. “I will take you back now.” “Oh. Very well, thank you.” McIver guardedly studied Hussain. The brown-black eyes under the heavy eyebrows gave nothing away, skin stretched over his high cheekbones, a strange, handsome face masking a spirit of enormous resolution. For good or for bad? McIver asked himself.
IN THEIR RADIO TOWER: 9:58 A.M. Wazari was hunched down near the door to the roof, still waiting. When McIver and Lochart had left him in the office he had been torn between fleeing and staying, then Changiz and the airmen had arrived, almost simultaneously Pavoud with other staff, so he had sneaked up here unseen and ever since had been in hiding. Just before 8:00 A.M. Kia had driven up in a taxi.
From his vantage point up here he had seen Kia go into a paroxysm of rage because McIver was not waiting beside the 206, ready for takeoff. The green-banded airmen relayed what Changiz had ordered. Kia had protested loudly. More apologetic shrugs and Kia stormed into the building, loudly proclaiming he would phone Changiz and radio Tehran at once, but Lochart had intercepted Kia at the bottom of the stairs and told him the phones were out, the set malfunctioning, and no radio repairer available until tomorrow. “Sorry, Minister, there’s nothing we can do about it - unless you want to go over to HQ yourself,” Wazari had heard Lochart say. “I’m sure Captain McIver won’t be long, the mullah Hussain sent for him.” At once most of the bombast had gone out of Kia and that had pleased him but did not allay his grinding anxiety and he had stayed there in the wind and the cold, forlorn, lost, and in misery.
His temporary safety did nothing to cast off his anxieties or fears or suspicions, about Kia today and up before the komiteh again tomorrow - “You’re needed for further questioning” - and why were those bastards Lochart and McIver so nervous, huh? Why did they lie to that sonofabitch turncoat Changiz about a crew change at Rig Abu Sal? No goddamn crew change needed there, not unless it was ordered in the night. Why’re we down to three pilots and two mecs with a load of work starting Monday - why so many spares shipped out? Oh, God, get me to hell outta here.
It was so cold and blustery he came back inside the tower but left the door ajar for a quick retreat. Cautiously he looked out of the windows and through cracks in the boards. If he was careful he could see most of the base without being seen. Ayre, Lochart, and the mechanics were over by the 212s. The main gate was well guarded by regular Green Bands. No activity over at the base that he could see. A chill went through him. Rumors of another purge by the komiteh, that now he was high on their list because of his evidence against Esvandiary and Minister Kia: “By the Prophet, I heard they want to see you tomorrow. You took your life in your hands speaking out like that, don’t you know the first rule of survival here for four thousand years has been to keep your tongue silent and your eyes closed on the doings of those above or, very soon, you’ll have neither left in your head? Of course those above are corrupt, has it ever been different?” Wazari moaned, helpless in the maelstrom and near breaking. Ever since Zataki had beaten him so badly, nose smashed - can’t seem to breathe anymore - four teeth knocked out, and an almost perpetual headache, his spirit had left him and so had his courage. He had never been beaten before. So Hotshot and Kia were both guilty, so what, so what? What business was it of yours? And now your stupidity will consume you too. Tears spilled down the bruises. “For crissake, for crissake, help, help me…” Then “malfunction” jumped into his head and he seized on it. What malfunction? The set was working fine yesterday.