He put his arms around her. “Gen, if the 125 comes today, will you get on it? Please.”
“Certainly, dear. If you get on it too.”
“But Gen. You must.”
“Duncan, listen a moment, please.” She turned and put her arms around him and rested her head against his chest and continued in the same small voice that troubled him greatly, “Three of your partners have already fled with their families and all the money they can, the Shah and his family’ve gone with all their money, thousands of others, most of the people we know’ve gone, you said so yourself and now if even the great General Valik’s running away, even with all his contacts and they’ve got to be on both sides of the fence, and … and if even the Immortals haven’t squashed the little rebellion at Doshan Tappeh of a few air force cadets and badly armed civilians - practically on their home ground - it’s time we should close down and leave.”
“We can’t, Gen,” he burst out, and she could hear his heart in his chest and her concern for him increased. “That’d be a disaster.”
“It’d only be for a short time, until things get better.” “If I scuttled Iran it’d ruin S-G.”
“I don’t know about that, Duncan, but surely the decision’s up to Andy, not you - he sent us here.”
“Yes, but he’d ask me what I thought and I couldn’t recommend quitting and leaving $20-to $30-odd million worth of choppers and spares behind - in this mess they wouldn’t last a week, they’d be looted or damaged, we’d lose everything, everything - don’t forget, Gen, all our retirement money’s tied up in S-G, everything.”
“But, Duncan, don’t you think th - ”
“I won’t leave our choppers and spares.” McIver felt flushed and in momentary panic at the thought. “I just can’t.”
“Then take them with you.”
“For God’s sake, we can’t get ‘em out, we can’t get the clearances, can’t get off Iranian registry - we can’t - we’re stuck here until the war’s over.”
“We’re not. Duncan, not you or me or our lads, you’ve got to think of them too. We have to get out. They’ll throw us out anyway, whoever wins, most of all Khomeini.” A tremor went through her as she thought of his first speech at the cemetery: “I pray God to cut off the hands of all foreigners …”
Chapter 16
AT TABRIZ ONE: 9:30 A.M. The red Range Rover came out of the gates of the Khan’s palace and headed down the rise toward Tabriz and the road for Tehran. Erikki was driving, Azadeh beside him. It had been her cousin, Colonel Mazardi, the chief of police, who had persuaded Erikki not to drive to Tehran on Friday: “The road would be highly dangerous - it’s bad enough during the day,” he said. “The insurgents won’t return now, you’re quite safe. Much better to go and see His Highness the Khan and ask his advice. That would be much wiser.”
Azadeh had agreed. “Erikki, of course we will do whatever you want but I would really feel happier if we went home for the night and saw Father.” “My cousin’s right, Captain; of course you may do as you wish, but I swear by the Prophet, God keep His words safe forever, that Her Highness’s safety is just as important to me as to you. If you still feel so inclined, leave tomorrow. I can assure you there’s no danger here. I’ll post guards. If this so-called Rakoczy or any other foreigner or this mullah comes within half a mile of here or the Gorgon palace they’ll regret it.”
“Oh, yes, Erikki, please,” Azadeh said enthusiastically. “Of course, my darling, we’ll do whatever you like but it might be you would want to consult His Highness, my father, about what you plan to do.” Reluctantly Erikki had agreed. Arberry and the other mechanic, Dibble, had decided to go into Tabriz to the International Hotel and spend the weekend there. “Spares’re due Monday, Captain. Old Skinflint McIver knows our 212’s got to be working by Wednesday or he’ll have to send another one and he won’t like that. We’ll just sit tight and get the job done and get her airborne. Our apology for a base manager can come and fetch us. We’re British, we’ve nothing to worry about - no one’s going to touch us. And don’t forget we’re working for their guver’ment, whoever’s the bleeding guver’ment, and we’ve no quarrel with any of these bleeding wo - these bleeders, begging your pardon. Now don’t you worry about us, you and the Missus. We’ll just sit tight and expect you back by Wednesday. Have a fun time in Tehran.”
So Erikki had gone in convoy with Colonel Mazardi to the outskirts of Tabriz. The sprawling palace of the Gorgon Khans was set in mountain foothills, in acres of gardens and orchards behind high walls. When they arrived, the whole house awoke and congregated - stepmother, half sisters, nieces, nephews, servants, and children of servants, but not Abdollah Khan, her father. Azadeh was received with open arms and tears and happiness and more tears, and immediate plans were made for a luncheon feast the next day to celebrate their good fortune in having her home at long last - “But, oh, how terrible! Bandits and a rogue mullah daring to come on your land? Hasn’t His Highness, our revered father, donated barrels of rials and hundreds of acres of land to various mosques in and around Tabriz!”
Erikki Yokkonen was welcomed politely, and guardedly. All of them were afraid of him, the enormity of his size, his quickness with a knife, the violence of his temper, and could not understand his gentleness toward his friends and the vast love he radiated for Azadeh. She was the fifth of six half sisters, and an infant half brother. Her mother, dead now many years, had been Abdollah Khan’s second, concurrent wife. Her own adored blood brother, Hakim, a year older than she, had been banished by Abdollah Khan and was still in disgrace at Khoi to the northwest - banished for crimes against the Khan that both Hakim and Azadeh swore he was not guilty of.
“First a bath,” her half sisters said gaily, “and you can tell us all that happened, every detail, every detail.” Happily, they dragged Azadeh away. In the privacy of their bathhouse, warm and intimate and luxurious and completely outside the domain of all men, they chatted and gossiped until the dawn. “My Mahmud hasn’t made love to me for a week,” Najoud, Azadeh’s eldest half sister, said with a toss of her head.
“It has to be another woman, darling Najoud,” someone said. “No, it’s not that. His erection is giving him trouble.”
“Oh, you poor darling! Have you tried giving him oysters …” “Or tried using oil of roses on your breasts …”
“Or rubbed him with extract of jacaranda, rhino horn, and musk…” “Jacaranda, musk with rhino horn? I haven’t heard of that one, Fazulia.” “It’s brand new from an ancient recipe from the time of Cyrus the Great. This is a secret but the Great King’s penis was quite small as a young man, but after he conquered the Medes, miraculously it became the envy of the host! It seems that he obtained a magic potion from the Medes that if rubbed on over a period of a month… Their high priest gave it to Cyrus in return for his life, providing the Great King swore to keep the secret in his family alone. It’s come down from father to son over the centuries and now, dear sisters, the secret’s in Tabriz!”
“Oh, who, dearest darling Sister Fazulia, who? The Blessings of God be upon thee forever, who? My rotten husband Abdullah, may his three remaining teeth fall out, he hasn’t had an erection for years. Who?”
“Oh, be quiet, Zadi, how can she talk if you talk! Go on, Fazulia.” “Yes, be quiet, Zadi, and bless your good fortune - my Hussan is erect morning, noon, and night and so filled with desire for me he gives me no time to even wash my teeth!”