“He would have had me strangled.” Not for a millionth of a second was Hakim Khan tempted to tell Ahmed that he had sent the assassins whom Erikki had killed, or about the poison attempt that had also failed. “A week ago he would have ordered me mutilated, and you would have done it happily.” Ahmed looked up at him, eyes deep-set and filled with death. “How do you know so much?”
“The Will of God.”
The ebb had begun. Both men knew it. Hakim said, “Colonel Fazir showed me a telex about Erikki.” He told Ahmed the contents. “Now I have no Mzytryk to barter with, not immediately. I can give Erikki to Fazir or help him escape. Either way my sister is committed to stay here and cannot go with him. What is your advice?”
“For you it is safer to give the Infidel to the colonel as a pishkesh and pretend to her there’s nothing you can do to prevent the… the arrest. In truth there isn’t if the colonel wants it that way. He of the Knife… he will resist and so he will be killed. Then you can promise her secretly to the Tbilisi… But never give her to him, then you will control… then you may control him…but I doubt it.”
“And if He of the Knife ‘happens’ to escape?”
“If the colonel allowed it… he will require payment.”
“Which is?”
“Mzytryk. Now or sometime… sometime in the future. While He of the Knife lives, Highness, she will never divorce him - forget the saboteur, he was another lifetime - and when the two years are… are over she will go to him, that is if… if he allows her to… to stay here. I doubt if even Your Highness…” Ahmed’s eyes closed and a tremor went through him. “What happened with Bayazid and the bandits? Ahmed…”
Ahmed did not hear him. He was seeing the steppes now, the vast plains of his homeland and ancestors, the seas of grass from whence his forebears came forth to ride near the cloak of Genghis Khan, and then that of the grandson Kubla Khan and his brother Hulagu Khan who came down into Persia to erect mountains of skulls of those who opposed him. Here in the golden lands since ancient times, Ahmed thought, lands of wine and warmth and wealth and women of great doe-eyed beauty and sensuality, prized since ancient times like Azadeh… ah, now I will never take her like she should be taken, dragged off by the hair as spoils of war, shoved across a saddle to be bedded and tamed on the skins of wolves …
From a long way off he heard himself say, “Please, Highness, I would beg a favor, I would like to be buried in my own land and in our own fashion…” Then I can live forever with the spirits of my fathers, he thought, the lovely space beckoning him.
“Ahmed, what happened with Bayazid and the bandits when you landed?” With an effort Ahmed came back. “They weren’t Kurds, just tribesmen pretending to be Kurds and He of the Knife killed them all, Highness, with very great brutality,” he said with strange formality. “In his madness he killed them all - with knife and gun and hands and feet and teeth, all except Bayazid who, because of his oath to you, would not come against him.” “He left him alive?” Hakim was incredulous.
“Yes, God give him peace. He… put a gun in my hand and held the Bayazid near the gun and I…” The voice trailed away, waves of grass beckoning as far as eyes could see…”
“You killed him?”
“Oh, yes, looking… looking into his eyes.” Anger came into Ahmed’s voice. “The son of a… a dog shot me in the back, twice, without honor, the son of a dog, so he died without honor and without… without manhood, the son of a dog.” The bloodless lips smiled and he closed his eyes. He was dying fast now, his words imperceptible. “I took vengeance.”
Hakim said quickly, “Ahmed, what haven’t you told me that I need to know?” “Nothing …” In a little while his eyes opened and Hakim saw into the pit. “There is no… no other God but God and…” A little blood seeped out of the side of his mouth. “.. .I made you Kh …” The last of the word died with him.
Hakim was uncomfortable under the frozen stare.
“Doctor!” he called out.
At once the man came in, and the guard. The doctor closed his eyes. “As God wills. What should we do with the body, Highness?”
“What do you usually do with bodies?” Hakim moved his crutches and walked away, the guard followed. So, Ahmed, he was thinking, so now you’re dead and I’m alone, cut from the past and obliged to no one. Made me Khan? Is that what you were going to say? Did you know there were spy holes in that room too?
A smile touched him. Then hardened. Now for Colonel Fazir, and Erikki, “He of the Knife” as you called him.
AT THE PALACE: 6:48 P.M. In the failing light Erikki was carefully repairing one of the bullet holes in the plastic windshield of the 212 with clear tape. It was difficult with his arm in a sling but his hand was strong and the forearm wound shallow - no sign of infection. His ear was heavily taped, part of his hair shaved away for cleanliness, and he was mending fast. His appetite was good. The hours of talk that he had had with Azadeh had given him a measure of peace.
That’s all it is, he thought, it’s only a measure, not enough to forgive the killings or the danger that I am. So be it. That’s what gods made me and that’s what I am. Yes, but what about Ross and what about Azadeh? And why does she keep the kookri so close by her: “It was his gift to you, Erikki, to you and to me.”
“It’s unlucky to give a man a knife without taking money, at once, just a token, in return. When I see him I will give him money and accept his gift.” Once again he pressed Engine Start. Once again the engine caught, choked, and died. What about Ross and Azadeh?
He sat back on the edge of the cockpit and looked at the sky. The sky did not answer him. Nor the sunset. The overcast had broken up in the west, the sun was down and the clouds menacing. Calls of the muezzins began. Guards on the gate faced Mecca and prostrated themselves; so did those inside the palace and those working in the fields and carpet factory and sheep pens. Unconsciously his hand went to his knife. Without wishing to, his eyes checked that the Sten gun was still beside his pilot’s seat and armed with a full clip. Hidden in the cabin were other weapons, weapons from the tribesmen. AK47s and M16s. He could not remember taking them or hiding them, had discovered them this morning when he made his inspection for damage and was cleaning the interior.
With the tape over his ear he did not hear the approaching car as soon as he would have normally, and was startled when it appeared at the gate. The Khan’s guards there recognized the occupants and waved the car through to stop in the huge forecourt
near the fountain. Again he pressed Engine Start, again the engine caught for a moment, then shuddered the whole airframe as it died. “Evening, Captain,” the two men said, Hashemi Fazir and Armstrong. “How are you feeling today?” the colonel asked.
“Evening. With luck, in a week or so I’ll be better than ever,” Erikki said pleasantly but his caution was complete.
“The guards say that Their Highnesses are not back yet - the Khan expects us, we’re here at his invitation.”
“They’re at the hospital being X-rayed. They left while I was asleep, they shouldn’t be long.” Erikki watched them. “Would you care for a drink? There’s vodka, whisky, and tea, of course coffee.”
“Thank you, whatever you have,” Hashemi said. “How’s your helicopter?” “Sick,” he said disgustedly. “I’ve been trying to start her for an hour. She’s had a miserable week.” Erikki led the way up the marble steps. “The avionics are messed. I need a mechanic badly. Our base’s closed as you know and I tried to phone Tehran but the phones are out again.” “Perhaps I can get you a mechanic, tomorrow or the next day, from the air base.”