McIver clicked on the VHF sender. “Kowiss Tower, IHC testing, testing.” A long pause, then in heavily accented English, “This the tower, IHC, you five by five.”
“Thank you. We seem to have cleared the fault. Our 206 charter to Tehran will leave in ten minutes, also our morning flight to rigs Forty, Abu Sal, and Gordy with spares.”
“Okay. Report airborne. Your Bandar Delam is been try to contact you.” McIver felt the sweat start. “Thanks, Tower. Good day.” He looked at Lochart, then switched on the HF. At once they heard Janan’s voice in Farsi and Lochart began interpreting: “Janan’s saying the last sighting of their flight was northeast, inland from the coast… that Zataki…” For a moment his voice faltered, “… that Zataki had ordered the four choppers to service Iran-Toda and should be at Iran-Toda by now and is sure to call or send a message…” Then McIver recognized Siamaki. Lochart was sweating. “Siamaki’s saying he’ll be off the air for half an hour to an hour but he’ll call when he gets back and to keep trying to raise us and Al Shargaz… Janan says okay and he’ll wait out and if he has any news he’ll call.” Static for a moment. Then Janan’s voice in English: “Kowiss, this is Bandar Delam, do you read?”
Lochart muttered, “If the tower’s been picking all this up, why aren’t we all in the slammer?”
“It’s Friday. No reason for them to monitor your company frequency.” Wazari wiped the tears away, back in control now. “Friday crew’s minimal and trainee - no flying, nothing happening, the komiteh sacked all radar officers and five of the sergeants - sent them to the stockade.” He shuddered then hurried on: “Maybe one of the guys picked up Bandar Delam once or twice. So Bandar’ve lost contact with some of their choppers, so what, they’re foreigners and it happens all the time. But, Captain, if you don’t close Bandar and Tehran down, they’ve gotta… someone’s gotta get steamed up.” He took out a grubby handkerchief and wiped a trickle of blood from his nose. “If you switch to your alternate channel you’ll be safe enough, the tower don’t have that.”
McIver stared at him. “You’re sure?”
“Sure, listen why don’t y - ” He stopped. Footsteps were approaching. Noiselessly he ducked back onto the roof into hiding. Kia.stomped halfway up the stairs. “What’s keeping you, Captain?”
“I’m… I’m waiting for clearance to be confirmed, Minister. Sorry, I’ve been told to wait. Nothing I can do.”
“Of course there is! We can take off and leave! Now! I’m tired of wait - ” “I’m tired too but I don’t want my head blown off.” McIver’s temper snapped and he flared, “You’ll wait! Wait! Understand? You bloody wait and if your bloody manners don’t improve I’ll cancel the whole trip and mention a pishkesh or two to the mullah Hussain I happened to forget at the questioning. Now get to hell out of here!”
For a moment they thought Kia was going to explode, but he thought better of it and went away. McIver rubbed his chest, cursing himself for losing his temper. Then he jerked a thumb at the roof and whispered, “Tom, what about him?”
“We can’t leave him behind. He could give us away in a minute.” Lochart looked around. Wazari was at the doorway.
“I swear I’ll help,” he whispered desperately. “Listen, when you take off with Kia, what d’you plan, to dump him, huh?” McIver did not answer, still unsure. “Jesus, Captain, you gotta trust me. Look, call Bandar on the alternate and chew Numir out like you did that bastard’n tell him you ordered all the choppers here. That’ll take the heat off for an hour or two.” McIver glanced at Lochart.
Lochart said excitedly, “Why not? Hell, that’s a good idea, then you take off with Kia and… and Freddy can get going. I’ll wait here and…” The words trailed off. “Then what, Tom?” McIver said.
Wazari came over and switched to the alternate channel, said quickly to Lochart, “You stall for a while, Cap, and when Cap McIver’s gone and Ayre’s out of the area, you tell Numir you’re sure his four choppers’ve just switched off their HF, no need to use it, and they’re on VHF. That gives you the excuse to get airborne and wander around, then you rush off to the fuel cache.” He saw their look. “Jesus, Cap, anyone’s gotta know you can’t make it in one across the Gulf, no way, so you’ve gotta have stashed spare fuel somewheres. Onshore, or on one of the rigs.”
McIver took a deep breath and pressed the transmit. “Bandar Delam, this is Captain McIver at Kowiss, do you read?”
“Kowiss - Bandar Delam, we’ve been trying to reach you for hours an - ” “Janan, put Agha Numir on,” McIver said curtly. A moment, then Numir came on but before the IranOil manager could launch into a tirade, McIver cut in with his own. “Where are my four helicopters? Why haven’t they reported in? What’s going on down there? And why are you so inefficient that you don’t know I ordered my helicopters and personnel here…?”
AT AL SHARGAZ HQ: “… and why don’t you remember that crew replacements are due in Bandar Delam after the weekend?” McIver’s voice was faint but clear over the loudspeaker, and Gavallan, Scot, and Manuela were staring at it, aghast that McIver was still in place at Kowiss - did that mean Lochart, Ayre, and the others too?
“But we’ve been calling you all morning, Captain,” Numir said, his voice fainter. “You ordered our copters to Kowiss? But why? And why wasn’t I informed? Our copters were supposed to go to Iran-Toda this morning but never landed and have vanished! Agha Siamaki’s also been trying to reach you.”
“There’s been a fault on our HF. Now listen here, Numir, I ordered my choppers to Kowiss. I never approved an Iran-Toda contract, know nothing about an Iran-Toda contract, so that’s the end to it. Now stop creating a stink about nothing!”
“But they are our helicopters and everyone’s left, everyone, mechanics and all pilots an - ”
“Goddamnit, I ordered them all here pending an investigation. I repeat I am very dissatisfied with your operation. And will so report to IranOil! Now stop calling!”
In the office they were all still in shock. That McIver was still in Kowiss was a disaster. Whirlwind was going badly awry. It was 10:42 A.M. and Rudi and his three were overdue Bahrain. “… but we don’t know their actual headwind, Dad,” Scot had said, “or how long they’ll take to inflight refuel. They could be three quarters to an hour late and still be okay - say an ETA at Bahrain of eleven to eleven-fifteen.” But everyone knew that there could not safely be that amount of fuel on board.
Nothing yet from Scrag and his two but that’s to be expected - they don’t have HF aboard, Gavallan thought. Their flight to Al Shargaz should take about an hour and a half. If they’d left at say seven-thirty and did the pickup and got out without incident, say at seven-forty-five, their ETA’s nine-fifteen whichever way you figure it. “No need to worry, Manuela, you understand about headwinds,” he had said, “and we don’t actually know when they left.”
So many things to go wrong. My God, this waiting’s rotten. Gavallan felt very old, picked up the phone and dialed Bahrain. “Gulf Air de France? JeanLuc Sessonne, please? JeanLuc, anything?”