“She’s a nice girl.”
The foyer was crowded. Across it and out of the cool air-conditioning to the sunset’s warmth and onto the entrance steps. Gavallan stopped astonished. Every one of the S-G contingent was there: Scragger, Vossi, Willi, Rudi, Pop Kelly, Sandor, Freddy Ayre, and all the others and all the mechanics. All were motionless, watching the approaching car. It swung up to them. Newbury got out. “Hello, Andrew,” he said, but now they were all transfixed, for Kasigi stood beside him, not the Iranian, and Kasigi was beaming, Newbury saying in a perplexed voice, “Really don’t quite understand what’s happening but the ambassador, the Iranian ambassador, canceled at the last minute, so did the Sheik, and Mr. Kasigi called for me to go to the Japanese reception so there’ll be no inspection tonight…”
Gavallan let out a cheer and then they were all pummeling Kasigi, thanking him, talking, laughing, stumbling over each other and Kasigi said, “… and there won’t be an inspection tomorrow even if we have to kidnap him…” and more laughter and cheers and Scragger was dancing a hornpipe. “Hooray for Kasigi…”
Gavallan fought his way through to Kasigi and gave him a bear hug, and shouted over the bedlam, “Thanks, thanks, by God. You’ll have some of your birds in three days, the rest at the weekend …” then added incoherently, “Christ Almighty, give me a second, Christ Almighty I’ve got to tell Mac, Duke, and the others… celebration’s on me…”
Kasigi watched him hurry away. Then he smiled to himself.
AT THE HOSPITAL: 6:32 P.M. Shakily Starke put down the phone, glowing with happiness, and came back onto the veranda. “Goddamn, Manuela, goddamn, we made it, no inspection! Whirlwind made it; Andy doesn’t know how Kasigi did it but he did it and… Goddamn!” He put his arm around her and leaned against the balustrade. “Whirlwind made it, now we’re safe, now we’ll get out and now we can plan. Goddamn! Kasigi, the son of a bitch, he did it! Allah-u Akbar,” he added triumphantly without thinking.
The sun touched the horizon. From the city a muezzin began, just one, the voice peerless, beckoning. And the sound filled his ears and his being and he listened, all else forgotten, his relief and joy mingled with the words and the beckoning and the Infinite - and he went away from her. Helplessly she waited, alone. There in the going down of the sun she waited, afraid for him, sad for him, sensing the future was in balance. She waited as only a woman can.
The beckoning ceased. Now it was very quiet, very still. His eyes saw the old city in all its ancient splendor, the desert beyond, infinity beyond the horizon. And now he saw it for what it was. Sound of a jet taking off and seabirds calling. Then the puttputt of a chopper somewhere and he decided. “Thou,” he said to her in Farsi, “thou, I love thee.”
“Thou, I love thee forever,” she murmured, near tears. Then she heard him sigh and knew they were together again.
“Time to go home, my darlin’.” He gathered her into his arms. “Time for all of us to go home.”
“Home’s where you are,” she said, not afraid anymore.
AT THE OASIS HOTEL: 11:52 P.M. In the darkness the telephone jangled discordantly, jerking Gavallan out of a deep sleep. He groped for it, switching on his side-table light. “Hello?”
“Hello, Andrew, this is Roger Newbury, sorry to call so late but th - ” “Oh, that’s all right, I said to call up till midnight, how did it go?” Newbury had promised to phone and tell him what happened at the rest of the reception. Normally Gavallan would have been awake but tonight he had excused himself from the celebration just after ten and within seconds was asleep. “What about tomorrow?”
“Delighted to tell you His Excellency Abadani’s accepted an invitation from the Sheik to spend the day hawking at Al Sal oasis, so it looks very good he’ll be isolated all day. Personally, I don’t trust him, Andrew, and we strongly advise you to get your planes and all personnel out as quickly and discreetly as possible, also to close down here for a month or two till we can give you the word. All right?”
“Yes, great news. Thanks.” Gavallan lay back, a new man, the bed seductive, sleep beckoning. “I’d already planned to close down,” he said with a mighty yawn. “Everyone’s confirmed out before sunset.” He had heard the nervousness in Newbury’s voice but put it down to all the excitement, stifled another yawn, and added, “Scragger and I will be the last - we’re on the plane to Bahrain with Kasigi to see McIver.”
“Good. How the hell you managed Abadani I don’t know - and I don’t want to know either - but our collective hat’s off to you. Now, er, now hate to bring bad tidings along with the good but we’ve just had a telex from Henley in Tabriz.”
Sleep vanished from Gavallan. “Trouble?”
“Afraid so. It sounds bizarre but this’s what it says.” There was a rustle of paper, then, “Henley says: ‘We hear there was some sort of attack yesterday or last night on Hakim Khan’s life, Captain Yokkonen is supposed to be implicated. Last night he fled for the Turkish border in his helicopter, taking his wife Azadeh with him, against her will. A warrant for attempted murder and kidnapping has been issued in Hakim Khan’s name. A great deal of fighting between rival factions is presently going on in Tabriz which is making accurate reporting somewhat difficult. Further details will be sent immediately they are available.’ That’s all there is. Astonishing, what?” Silence. “Andrew? Are you there?”
“Yes… yes, I am. Just… just, er, trying to collect my wits. There’s no chance there’d be a mistake?”
“I doubt that. I’ve sent an urgent signal for more details; we might get something tomorrow. I suggest you contact the Finnish ambassador in London, alert him. The embassy number is 01-7668888. Sorry about all this.” Gavallan thanked him and, dazed, replaced the phone.
Sunday - March 4
Chapter 72
AT THE TURKISH VILLAGE: 10:20 A.M. Azadeh awoke with a start. For a moment she could not remember where she was, then the room came into focus - small, drab, two windows, the straw mattress of the bed hard, clean but coarse sheets and blankets - and she recalled that this was the village hotel and last night at sunset, in spite of her protests and not wanting to leave Erikki, she had been escorted here by the major and a policeman. The major had brushed aside her excuses and insisted on dining with her in the tiny restaurant that had emptied immediately they had arrived. “Of course you must eat something to keep up your strength. Please sit down. I will order whatever you eat for your husband and have them send it to him. Would you like that?”
“Yes, please,” she said, also in Turkish, and sat down, understanding the implied threat, the hackles on her neck twisting. “I can pay for it.” The barest touch of a smile moved his full lips. “As you wish.” “Thank you, Major Effendi. When can my husband and I leave, please?” “I will discuss that with you tomorrow, not tonight.” He motioned to the policeman to stand guard on the door. “Now we will speak English,” he said, offering her his silver cigarette case.
“No, thank you, I don’t smoke. When can I have my jewelry back, please, Major Effendi?”
He selected a cigarette and began tapping the end on the case, watching her. “As soon as it is safe. My name is Abdul Ikail. I’m stationed at Van and responsible for this whole region, up to the border.” He used his lighter, exhaled smoke, his eyes never leaving her. “Have you been to Van before?” “No, no I haven’t.”