“Insha’Allah,” she echoed brokenly, “but the whole world’s gone mad… thrown into a filthy outhouse like criminals … what’s going to happen to us …”
“With the Help of God we’ve got this far, so why not all the way to Kuwait?” They had arrived here yesterday just before noon. The flight from the pickup outside of Tehran had been without incident, all airwaves silent. His trusted chauffeur of fifteen years had driven his car back to Tehran, with orders to tell no one that they had “gone to their house on the Caspian.” “In this escape we trust no one,” Valik had told his wife while they were waiting for the chopper to arrive.
She had said, “Of course, but we should have brought Sharazad, that would have helped her and Tom Lochart and guaranteed he would take us onward.” “No, she’d never have left, why should she?” Valik had said. “With or without Sharazad, he is not to be trusted - he’s alien and not one of us.” “It would have been wiser to have brought her.”
“No,” he had said, knowing what would have to be done with Lochart. All the way from Tehran to Isfahan he had sat in the front with Lochart. They had stayed low, avoiding towns and airfields. When Lochart had called Isfahan Military Base Control they were obviously expected. The tower had given them directions where to land with an order not to call again and to observe radio silence. Air Force Brigadier General Mohammed Seladi, Valik’s uncle, who had arranged for them to land and to refuel, met them at the helipad. The general had greeted them somberly. As it was near lunchtime he said they should eat on the base before going on.
“But, Mohammed Excellency, we’ve enough food here on the aircraft,” Valik had told him.
“I must insist,” Seladi had said nervously, “I must insist, Excellency. You should pay your respects to the commandant. It is necessary, and, er, we must talk.”
It was during this time that the Green Bands and the mob had burst through the gates, swarmed over the station, arrested them all, and had taken Lochart to another part of the base. Sons of dogs, Valik thought angrily, may they all burn in hell! I knew at the time we should have just refueled and gone on at once. Seladi’s a blundering fool. It’s all his fault… In an upper story of a barrack a quarter of a mile away. Tom Lochart was sleeping fitfully. Suddenly he was awakened by a scuffle outside in the corridor, the door burst open, and he was half blinded by a flashlight. “Quick,” a voice said in American English and two men helped him stand. At once the two half-seen figures turned and ran off. A split second to collect himself then Lochart rushed in pursuit, along the corridor, down three flights of stairs, and into the open. There he stopped with the others, his breathing heavy. He just had time to see that both men were officers, a captain and a major, before they were off again in the semidarkness, running hard. Dawn brightened the eastern sky. Snow fell lightly, helping to hide them, and muffling their footsteps.
Ahead was a guardhouse with a wood fire outside, a few sleepy inattentive revolutionaries huddled around it. The three men diverted and ran down between a line of barracks, diverted again into an alleyway as a truck filled with chanting guards came around a corner, then rushed into the open, along the boundary road for the far hangar and the 212. In the lee of the hangar, they stopped to catch their breath.
“Listen, pilot,” the major said, panting, “when I give the word, we run for the chopper and take off. Ready?”
“What about the others?” Lochart asked, a stitch in his side and hardly able to talk. “What about General Valik and his fam - ”
“Forget them. Ali,” the major jerked his thumb at the other man, “Ali goes in front with you and I’m in the back. How long will it take to get airborne once you start up?”
“Minimum.”
“Make it less,” the major said. “Come on!”
They rushed for the 212, Lochart and Ali, the captain, heading for the cockpit. At that moment Lochart saw a car without headlights charging along the boundary road toward them and his heart seemed to stop. “Look!” “In God’s name, hurry, pilot!”
Lochart redoubled his efforts, jumped into the pilot’s seat, shoved in the circuit breakers, switched on, and began to crank her up. At the same moment the major reached the sliding door and tore it open. He almost fainted when the carbine was shoved in his face by Valik.
“Oh, it’s you, Major! Praise be to God…”
“Praise be to God you’re here and made your escape, Excellency,” the major gasped, forced his panic away, and clambered in, the engines already winding the blades but nowhere near airspeed yet. “Praise be to God you made your escape… but where’s the soldier?”
“He just took the money and fled.”
“Did he bring the guns?”
“No, this is all h - ”
“Son of a dog!” the major said furiously, then shouted at Lochart, “In the Name of God hurryyyyyyy!” He whirled and looked at the approaching car. It was closing fast. He grabbed the carbine from Valik, kneeled in the doorway, aimed at the driver, and squeezed the trigger. The burst was high - as behind him Annoush and the children cried out in terror - the car hurtled off the road taking evading action and swung behind a row of sheds, came into view for an instant to dart around the hangar and disappear again. Lochart had his headset on and was watching the needles climbing, willing them to hurry. “Come on, goddamnit,” he muttered, hands and feet ready on the controls, the scream of the jets growing, the captain beside him praying openly. He could not hear Annoush sobbing in the back or the petrified children who had scrambled out of their hiding place to bury themselves in her skirts, or Valik and the major raging at him to hurry. Needles climbing. Still climbing. Still climbing. Almost in the Green. Now! His left hand started to raise the collective lever but the car whirled around the hangar and came at them head-on to stop fifteen yards away. Five men jumped out of it - one rushed directly at the cockpit and pointed an automatic rifle at him, the others went for the cabin door. He was almost airborne but knew he was a dead man if he went the extra inches and he saw the man angrily motion him to stop. He obeyed, then swung around to look into the back. The other men were clambering in. They were all officers, Valik and the major were embracing them and being embraced, then he heard, “Take off, for crissake!” in his headset and felt a shove in the ribs. It was Ali, the captain, beside him.
“Take off!” Ali said again, his English American-accented, and gave a thumbs-up to the man outside still aiming at them. The man rushed for the door, got in, and slammed the door closed. “Hurry, goddamnit, look over there!” He pointed at the other side of the runway. More cars were heading their way. Sparks of machine-gun fire from someone leaning out of a window. In seconds Lochart was airborne, all senses concentrating on escape. Behind him some of the officers cheered, hung on as the chopper took evading action, and sorted themselves into seats. Most were colonels. Some were shaken, particularly General Seladi who sat between Valik and the major. “I wasn’t sure it was you, General Excellency,” the major was saying, “so I fired high just as a warning. Praise be to God the plan worked so well.” “But you were going to take off. You were going to leave us! You w - ” “Oh, no, Excellency Uncle,” Valik interrupted smoothly, “it was the British pilot, he was panicking and didn’t want to wait! They’ve no balls, Britishers! Never mind him,” he added, “we’re armed, we’ve food, and we’re safe! Praise be to God! And more praise that I had time to plan.” Yes, he thought, if it hadn’t been for me and my money we’d all be dead - money to bribe the man who released us and you, and the major and captain to release Lochart whom I need just a little longer.