“No, Andy. I’ve just called the tower and there’s nothing in the system. Pas problčme. Rudi’ll be conserving fuel. The tower said they’d call me the instant they see them. Anything about anyone else?”
“We just found out Mac’s still in Kowiss.” Gavallan heard the gasp and the obscenities. “I agree. I’ll call you.” He dialed Kuwait. “Charlie, is Genny with you?” “No, she’s at the hotel. Andy, I - ” “We’ve just heard Mac’s still at Kowiss an - ” “Christalmighty, what’s happened?” “Don’t know, he’s still transmitting. I’ll call back when I’ve something definite. Don’t tell Genny yet. ‘Bye.”
Again the nauseating waiting, then the HF came alive. “Tehran, this is Kowiss, Captain McIver. Go ahead.”
“Kowiss, Tehran, we’ve been calling all morning. Agha Siamaki has been trying to reach you. He’ll be back in about an hour. Please confirm that you ordered the four 212s to Kowiss.”
“Tehran, this is Kowiss. Bandar Delam, you copy too.” McIver’s voice was slower and clearer but very angry. “I confirm, I have all my 212s - I repeat all my 212s - under my control. All of them. I will be unavailable to talk to Agha Siamaki as I am cleared to leave here for Tehran with Minister Kia in five minutes but will expect Agha Siamaki to meet the 206 at Tehran International. In a few moments we will be closing down for repairs - on orders from the authorities - and will be operating only on VFR. For your information Captain Ayre will be leaving in five minutes for rig Abu Sal with spares and Captain Lochart will remain on standby to meet my Bandar Delam 212s. Did you copy, Tehran?”
“Affirmative, Captain McIver, but can you please te - ”
McIver cut in over him: “Did you copy, Numir, or are you more useless than ever?”
“Yes, but I must insist that we be infor - ”
“I’m tired of all this nonsense. I’m managing director of this operation and as long as we operate in Iran that’s the way it is going to be, simple, direct, and no fuss. Kowiss is closing down to make repairs as ordered by Colonel Changiz and will report as soon as we are on the air again. Remain on this channel but keep it clear for testing. Everything will proceed as planned. Over and out!”
Just then the door opened and Starke came in, an anxious young nurse with him. Manuela was dumbfounded. Gavallan leaped up and helped him to a chair, his chest heavily bandaged. He wore pajama bottoms and a loose terry dressing gown. “I’m okay, Andy,” Starke said. “How are you, honey?” “Conroe, are you crazy?” “No. Andy, tell me what’s happening?” The nurse said, “We really can’t take responsibil - ” Starke said patiently, “I promise only a couple of hours and I’ll be real careful. Manuela, please take her back to the car, would you, honey?” He looked at her with that special look husbands have for wives and wives for husbands when it’s not the time to argue. At once she got up and ushered the nurse out and when they had both gone, Starke said, “Sorry, Andy, couldn’t stand it anymore. What’s going on?”
AT KOWISS: 10:48 A.M. McIver came down the tower steps, feeling sick and empty and not sure he would make it to the 206, let alone put the rest of the plan into effect. You’ll make it, he told himself. Get yourself together.
The mullah Hussain was still talking to Kia, leaning against the car, his AK47 slung over one shoulder. “We’re all set, Minister,” McIver said. “Of course, if it’s all right, Excellency Hussain?”
“Yes, as God wants,” Hussain said, with a strange smile. Politely he put out his hand. “Good-bye, Minister Kia.”
“Good-bye, Excellency.” Kia turned and walked off briskly for the 206. Uneasily McIver offered his hand to the mullah. ‘“Bye, Excellency.” Hussain turned to watch Kia get into the cockpit. Again the strange smile. “It is written: ‘The mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small.’ Don’t they, Captain?”
“Yes. But why do you say that?”
“As a parting gift. You can tell your friend Kia when you land at Tehran.” “He’s not my friend, and why then?”
“You’re wise not to have him as a friend. When will you see Captain Starke again?”
“I don’t know. Soon I hope.” McIver saw the mullah glance back at Kia, and his disquiet increased. “Why?”
“I would like to see him soon.” Hussain unslung the gun and got into the car and, with his Green Bands, drove off.
“Captain?” It was Pavoud. He was shaky and upset.
“Yes, Mr. Pavoud, just a minute. Freddy!” McIver beckoned Ayre who came at a run. “Yes, Mr. Pavoud?”
“Please, why are the 212s loaded with spares and luggage and all th - ”
“A crew change,” McIver said at once and pretended not to notice Ayre’s eyes crossing. “I’ve four 212s due here from Bandar Delam. You’d better get accommodations ready. Four pilots and four mechanics. They’re due in about two hours.”
“But we’ve no manifest or reason to h - ”
“Do it!” McIver’s tension boiled over again. “I gave the orders. Me! Me personally! I ordered my 212s here! Freddy, what the hell’re you waiting for? Get going with your spares.”
“Yessir. And you?”
“I’m taking Kia, Tom Lochart’s in charge until I get back. Off you go. No, wait, I’ll go with you. Pavoud, what the devil are you waiting for? Captain Lochart will be very bloody irritable if you’re not ready in time.” McIver stomped off with Ayre, praying that Pavoud was convinced. “Mac, what the hell’s going on?”
“Wait till we get to the others.” When McIver reached the 212s he turned his back to Pavoud who still stood on the office steps and quickly told them what was going on. “See you at the coast.”
“You all right, Mac?” Ayre said, very concerned with his color.
“Of course I am. Take off!”
OFF BAHRAIN: 10:59 A.M. Rudi and Pop Kelly were still in tandem battling the headwind, nursing their engines - their fuel gauges reading empty, red warning lights on. Half an hour ago they had both gone into hover. The mechanics had swung the cabin doors open and leaned out, taking off the tank caps. Then they had uncurled the hoses and stuck the nozzle into the tank neck and come back into the cabin. With the makeshift pumps, laboriously they had pumped the first of the forty-gallon drums dry, then the second. Neither of the mechanics had ever refueled in the air like this. Both had been violently sick when they finished. But the operation was successful.
The haze was still strong, sea swell heavy under the wind, and since the near miss with the tanker all had been routine, grinding along, seeking maximum range, adjusting, always adjusting, and praying. Rudi had seen nothing of Dubois or Sandor. One of Rudi’s jets coughed but picked up almost at once.
Faganwitch winced. “How far we got to go?”
“Too fat.” Rudi switched on his VHF, breaking their radio silence. “Pop, switch to HF, listen out,” he said rapidly and switched over. “Sierra One, this is Delta One, do you read?”
“Loud and clear, Delta One,” Scot’s voice came back instantly, “go ahead.” “Off Boston” - their code for Bahrain - “at seven hundred, heading 185, low on fuel. Delta Two is with me, Three and Four on their own.” “Welcome from Britain to sunny lands, G-HTXX and G-HJZI, repeat G-HTXX and G-HJZI! JeanLuc is waiting for you. We’ve no news yet of Delta Three and Four.”
“HTXX and HJZI!” Immediately Rudi acknowledged with their new British call signs. “What about Lima Three and Kilo Two?” Lima for Lengeh’s three, Kilo for Kowiss’s two.
“No news yet except that Kilo Two is still in place.” Rudi and Pop Kelly were shocked. Then they heard, “This is Tehran HQ, Al Shargaz, do you read?” quickly followed by Siamaki’s voice: “This is Tehran, who is calling on this channel? Who is Kilo Two and Lima Three? Who is Sierra One?” Scot’s voice cut in loudly, “No sweat, HTXX, some twit’s using our channel. Phone us on landing,” he added to caution against unnecessary talk. Pop Kelly butted in excitedly, “Sandbanks ahead, HTXX!”