“Of course. But a man of your importance and learning would understand there are rules of honor and hospitality in Azerbaijan, and in my tribe. He is my brother-in-law and even SAVAMA understands family honor.” Both men knew this was just an opening gambit in a delicate negotiation - delicate because neither wanted SAVAMA’s wrath on their heads, neither knew yet how far to go, or even if a private deal was wanted. “I presume many know of this… this treason?”
“Only me, here in Tabriz, Highness. At the moment,” Hashemi said at once, conveniently forgetting Armstrong to whom he had suggested this phony telex this morning: “There’s no way that son of a dog, Hakim, can expose it as a hoax, Robert,” he had said, delighted with his own brilliance. “He’s got to barter. We barter the Finn for Mzytryk at no cost to ourselves. That bloodthirsty maniac Finn can fly off into the sunset when we get what we want - until then we bottle him up.”
“Say Hakim Khan won’t agree, won’t or can’t deliver Mzytryk?” “If he doesn’t want to barter, we seize Erikki anyway. Whirlwind’s bound to leak soon and I can use Erikki for all sorts of concessions - he’s hostage at least for $15 million worth of planes… or perhaps I barter him to the tribesmen as a peace offering… The fact that he’s a Finn helps. I could link him closely with Rakoczy and the KGB and cause the Soviets all sorts of mischief, equally the CIA, eh? Even MI6, eh?” “The CIA’ve never harmed you. Or MI6.” “Insha’Allah! Don’t interfere in this, Robert. Erikki and the Khan are an internal Iranian matter. On your own head, don’t interfere. With the Finn I can get important concessions.” But important only to me, Robert, not to SAVAMA, Hashemi had thought and smiled to himself. Tomorrow or the next day we will return to Tehran and then my assassin follows you into the night and then, poof, you’re blown out like a candle. “He’ll deliver him,” he had said calmly.
“If Hakim gives up Erikki, he’ll get hell and damnation and no peace from his beloved sister. I think she’d go to the stake for him.” “She may have to.”
Hashemi remembered the glow of joy he had felt and now it was even better. He could see Hakim Khan’s disquiet and was sure he had him trapped. “I’m sure you’ll understand, Highness, but I have to answer this telex quickly.” Hakim Khan decided on a partial offer. “Treason and conspiracy should not go unpunished. Anywhere it is to be found. I’ve sent for the traitor you wanted. Urgently.”
“Ah. How long will it take for Mzytryk to answer?” “You’d have a better idea of that than me. Wouldn’t you?”
Hashemi heard the flatness and cursed himself for making the slip. “I would be astonished if Your Highness wasn’t answered very quickly,” he said with great politeness. “Very quickly.” “When?”
“Within twenty-four hours, Highness. Personally or by messenger.” He saw the young Khan shift painfully and tried to decide whether to delay or to press home his advantage, sure the pain was genuine. The doctor had given him a detailed diagnosis of the Khan’s possible injuries and those of his sister. To cover every eventuality he had ordered the doctor to give Erikki some heavy sedation tonight, just in case the man tried to escape. “The twenty-four hours will be up at seven this evening, Colonel.” “There is so much to do in Tabriz, Highness, following your advice of this morning, that I doubt if I could deal with the telex before then.” “You destroy the leftist mujhadin headquarters tonight?”
“Yes, Highness,” now that we have your permission, and your guarantee of no repercussions from the Tudeh, Hashemi wanted to add but did not. Don’t be stupid! This young man’s not as three-faced as the dog Abdollah, may he burn in hell. This one’s easier to deal with - providing you have more cards than he has and are not afraid to show your fangs when needed. “It would be unfortunate if the captain was not available for… for questioning this evening.”
Hakim Khan’s eyes narrowed at the unnecessary threat. As if I didn’t understand, you rude son of a dog. “I agree.” There was a knock on the door. “Come in.”
Azadeh opened it. “Sorry to interrupt, Highness, but you told me to remind you half an hour before it was time to go to the hospital for X rays. Greetings, peace be with you, Colonel.”
“And God’s peace be with you, Highness.” I’m glad such beauty will be forced into chador soon, Hashemi was thinking. She’d tempt Satan, let alone the unwashed illiterate scum of Iran. He looked back at the Khan. “I should be going, Highness.”
“Please come back at seven, Colonel. If I’ve any news before then I’ll send for you.”
“Thank you, Highness.”
She closed the door after him. “How’re you feeling, Hakim, darling?” “Tired. Lots of pain.”
“Me too. Do you have to see the colonel later?”
“Yes. It doesn’t matter. How’s Erikki?”
“Asleep.” She was joyous. “We’re so lucky, the three of us.” * IN TABRIZ CITY: 4:06 P.M. Robert Armstrong checked the action of the small automatic, his face grim. “What’re you going to do?” Henley asked, not liking the gun at all. He was also English, but much smaller, with a wispy mustache, and he wore glasses and sat behind the desk in the untidy, grubby office, under a picture of Queen Elizabeth.
“Best you don’t ask that. But don’t worry, I’m a copper, remember? This’s just in case some villain tries to do me. Can you get the message to Yokkonen?”
“I can’t go to the palace uninvited, what the hell’d be my excuse?” Henley’s eyebrows soared. “Do I say to Hakim Khan, ‘Terribly sorry, old boy, but I want to speak to your brother-in-law about getting a chum out of Iran by private helicopter.’” His banter vanished. “You’re quite wrong about the colonel, Robert. There’s no proof whatsoever the colonel’s responsible for Talbot.”
“If you had you wouldn’t admit it,” Armstrong said, angry with himself for exploding when Henley had told him about the “accident.” Again his voice rasped. “Why the devil did you wait till today to tell me Talbot was blown up? For God’s sake it happened two days ago!”
“I don’t decide policy, I just carry messages and anyway we’ve just heard. Besides, you’ve been difficult to track down. Everyone thought you’d left, last seen boarding a British aircraft bound for Al Shargaz. Damn it, you’ve been ordered out for almost a week and you’re still here, not on any assignment I know of, and whatever you’ve decided to do, don’t, except kindly remove yourself from Iran because if you’re caught and they get you to the third level, a lot of people are going to be very bloody peed off.” “I’ll try not to disappoint them.” Armstrong got up and put on his old raincoat with the fur collar. “See you soon.”
“When?”
“When I bloody choose.” Armstrong’s face tightened. “I’m not under your authority and what I do and when I come and go is not up to you. Just see my report’s kept in the safe until you’ve a diplomatic bag to pass it urgently to London, and keep your bloody mouth shut.”
“You’re not usually so rude, or so touchy. What the hell’s up, Robert?” Armstrong stalked out and down the steps and out into the cold of the day. It was overcast and promised to snow again. He went down the crowded street. Passersby and street merchants pretended not to notice him, presumed he was Soviet, and cautiously went about their own business. Though he was watching to see if he was being followed, his mind was sifting ways and means to deal with Hashemi. No time to consult his superiors, and no real wish to. They would have shaken their heads: “Good God, our old friend Hashemi? Send him onwards on suspicion he levitated Talbot? First we’d need proof…”
But there’ll never be any proof and they won’t believe about Group Four teams or about Hashemi fancying himself as a modern Hasan ibn al-Sabbah. But I know. Wasn’t Hashemi bursting with happiness about assassinating General Janan? Now he’s got bigger fish to skewer. Like Pahmudi. Or the whole Rev Komiteh, whoever they are - I wonder if he’s pegged them yet? I wonder if he’d go for the Imam himself? No telling. But one way or another he’ll pay for old Talbot - after we’ve got Petr Oleg Mzytryk. Without Hashemi I’ve no chance of getting him, and through him the sodding traitors we all know are operating up top in Whitehall, Philby’s bosses, the fourth, fifth, and sixth man - in the Cabinet, MI5, or MI6. Or all three.