“You could, Colonel?” His smile was sudden and appreciative. “That’d help a lot. And I could use fuel, a full load. Would that be possible?” “Could you fly down to the airfield?”
“I wouldn’t risk it, even if I could start her - too dangerous. No, I wouldn’t risk that.” Erikki shook his head. “The mechanic must come here.” He led the way along a corridor, opened the door to the small salon on the ground floor that Abdollah Khan had set aside for non-Islamic guests. It was called the European Room. The bar was well stocked. By custom, there were always full ice trays in the refrigerator, the ice made from bottled water, with club soda and soft drinks of many kinds - and chocolates and the halvah he had adored. “I’m having vodka,” Erikki said.
“Same for me, please,” Armstrong said. Hashemi asked for a soft drink. “I’ll have a vodka too, when the sun’s down.” Faintly the muezzins were still calling. “Prosit!” Erikki clinked glasses with Armstrong, politely did the same with Hashemi, and drank the tot in one swallow. He poured himself another. “Help yourself, Superintendent.” Hearing a car they all glanced out the window. It was the Rolls.
“Excuse me a minute, I’ll tell Hakim Khan you’re here.” Er-ikki walked out and greeted Azadeh and her brother on the steps. “What did the X rays show?” “No sign of bone damage for either of us.” Azadeh was happy, her face carefree. “How are you, my darling?”
“Fine. It’s wonderful about your backs. Wonderful!” His smile at Hakim was genuine. “I’m so pleased. You’ve some guests, the colonel and Superintendent Armstrong - I put them in the European Room.” Erikki saw Hakim’s tiredness. “Shall I tell them to come back tomorrow?”
“No, no thank you. Azadeh, would you tell them I’ll be fifteen minutes but to make themselves at home. I’ll see you later, at dinner.” Hakim watched her touch Erikki and smile and walk off. How lucky they are to love each other so much, and how sad for them. “Erikki, Ahmed’s dead, I didn’t want to tell her yet.”
Erikki was filled with sadness. “My fault he’s dead - Bayazid - he never gave him a chance. Matyeryebyets!”
“God’s will. Let’s go and talk a moment.” Hakim went down the corridor into the Great Room, leaning more and more on the crutches. The guards stayed at the door, out of listening range. Hakim went to a niche, put aside his crutches, faced Mecca, gasped with pain as he knelt, and tried to make obeisance. Even forcing himself, he failed again and had to be content with intoning the Shahada. “Erikki, give me a hand, will you please?” Erikki lifted him easily. “You’d better give that a miss for a few days.” “Not pray?” Hakim gaped at him.
“I meant… perhaps the One God will understand if you say it and don’t kneel. You’ll make your back worse. Did the doctor say what it was?” “He thinks it’s torn ligaments - I’ll go to Tehran as soon as I can with Azadeh and see a specialist.” Hakim accepted his crutches. “Thanks.” After a moment’s consideration he chose a chair instead of his usual lounging cushions and eased himself into it, then ordered tea.
Erikki’s mind was on Azadeh. So little time. “The best back specialist in the world’s Guy Beauchamp, in London. He fixed me up in five minutes after doctors said I’d have to lie in traction for three months or have two joints fused. Don’t believe an ordinary doctor about your back, Hakim. The best they can do is painkillers.”
The door opened. A servant brought in the tea. Hakim dismissed him and the guards, “See that I’m not disturbed.” The tea was hot, mint-flavored, sweet and drunk from tiny silver cups. “Now, we must settle what you’re to do. You can’t stay here.”
“I agree,” Erikki said, glad that the waiting was over. “I know I’m… I’m an embarrassment to you as Khan.”
“Part of Azadeh’s agreement and mine with my father, for us to be redeemed and me to be made heir, were the oaths we swore to remain in Tabriz, in Iran, for two years. So, though you must leave, she may not.” “She told me about the oaths.”
“Clearly you’re in danger, even here. I can’t protect you against police or the government. You should leave at once, fly out of the country. After two years when Azadeh can leave, she will leave.”
“I can’t fly. Fazir said he could give me a mechanic tomorrow, maybe. And fuel. If I could get hold of McIver in Tehran he could fly someone up here.” “Did you try?”
“Yes, but the phones are still out. I would have used the HF at our base but the office’s totally wrecked - I flew over the base coming back here, it’s a mess, no transport, no fuel drums. When I get to Tehran McIver can send a mechanic here to repair the 212. Until she can fly, can she stay where she is?”
“Yes. Of course.” Hakim poured himself some more tea, convinced now that Erikki knew nothing about the escape of the other pilots and helicopters. But that changes nothing, he told himself. “There aren’t any airlines servicing Tabriz or I’d arrange one of those for you. Still, I think you should leave at once; you are in very great danger, immediate danger.” Erikki’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure?” “Yes?” “What?”
“I can’t tell you. But it’s not in my control, it’s serious, immediate, does not concern Azadeh at the moment but could, if we’re not careful. For her protection this must remain just between us. I’ll give you a car, any one you want from the garage. There’re about twenty, I believe. What happened to your Range Rover?”
Erikki shrugged, his mind working. “That’s another problem, killing that matyeryebyets mujhadin who took my papers, and Azadeh’s, then Rakoczy blasting the others.”
“I’d forgotten about Rakoczy.” Hakim pressed onward. “There’s not much time.”
Erikki moved his head around to ease the tension in his muscles and take away the ache. “How immediate a danger, Hakim?”
Hakim’s eyes were level. “Immediate enough to suggest you wait till dark, then take the car and go - and get out of Iran as quickly as you can,” he added deliberately. “Immediate enough to know that if you don’t, Azadeh will have greater anguish. Immediate enough to know you should not tell her before you leave.”
“You swear it?”
“Before God I swear that is what I believe.”
He saw Erikki frown and he waited patiently. He liked his honesty and simplicity but that meant nothing in the balance. “Can you leave without telling her?”
“If it’s in the night, nearer to dawn, so long as she’s sleeping. If I leave tonight, pretending to go out, say to go to the base, she’ll wait for me, and if I don’t come back, it will be very difficult - for her and for you. The village preys on her. She’ll have hysterics. A secret departure would be wiser, just before dawn. She’ll be sleeping then - the doctor gave her sedatives. She’ll be sleeping and I could leave a note.”
Hakim nodded, satisfied. “Then it’s settled.” He wanted no hurt or trouble for or from Azadeh either.
Erikki had heard the finality and he knew beyond any doubt, now, that if he left her he would lose her forever.
IN THE BATHHOUSE: 7:15 P.M. Azadeh lowered herself into the hot water up to her neck. The bath was beautifully tiled and fifteen yards square and many tiered, shallow at one end with lounging platforms, the hot water piped from the furnace room adjoining. The room was warm and large, a happy place with kind mirrors. Her hair was tied up in a towel and she rested against one of the tilted backrests, her legs stretched out, the water easing her. “Oh, that’s so good, Mina,” she murmured.
Mina was a strong, good-looking woman, one of Azadeh’s three maidservants. She stood over her in the water, wearing just a loincloth, gently massaging her neck and shoulders. The bathhouse was empty but for Azadeh and the maidservant - Hakim had sent the rest of the family to other houses in Tabriz: “to prepare for a fitting Mourning Day for Abdollah Khan,” had been the excuse, but all were aware that the forty days of waiting was to give him time to inspect the palace at his leisure and reapportion suites as it pleased him. Only the old Khanan was undisturbed, and Aysha and her two infants.