The mullah turned and shouted, “Excellency Esvandiary!”
Kuram Esvandiary, or “Hotshot” as he was nicknamed, was in his early thirties, popular with the expats, very efficient, and S-G trained - he had had two years of training at S-G HQ at Aberdeen on a Shah grant. He came from the back and, for a moment, not one of the S-G men recognized their station manager. Normally he was a meticulous dresser and cleanshaven, but now he had three or four days’ growth of heavy beard, and wore rough clothes with a green armband, slouch hat, an M16 slung over his shoulder. “The trip’s sanctioned, here,” he said, giving Ayre the usual forms, “I’ve signed them and they’re stamped.”
“But, Hotshot, surely you realize this isn’t a legitimate CASEVAC?” “My name’s Esvandiary - Mr. Esvandiary,” he said without a smile and Ayre flushed. “And it’s a legitimate order from IranOil who employ you under contract here in Iran.” His face hardened. “If you refuse a legitimate order in good flying conditions, you’re breaking your contract. If you do that without cause then we’ve the right to seize all assets, aircraft, hangars, spares, houses, equipment, and order you out of Iran at once.” “You can’t do that.”
“I’m IranOil’s chief representative here now,” Esvandiary said curtly. “IranOil’s owned by the government. The Revolutionary Komiteh under the leadership of the Imam Khomeini, peace be upon him, is the government. Read your IranOil contract - also the contract between S-G and Iran Helicopters. Are you flying the charter or refusing to?”
Ayre held on to his temper. “What about… what about Prime Minister Bakhtiar and the gov - ”
“Bakhtiar?” Esvandiary and the mullah stared at him. “Haven’t you heard yet? He’s resigned and fled, the generals capitulated yesterday morning, the Imam and the Revolutionary Komiteh are Iran’s government now.”
Ayre and Dubois and those expats nearby gaped at him. The mullah said something in Farsi they did not understand. His men laughed. “Capitulated?” was all Ayre could say.
“It was the Will of God the generals came to their senses,” Hussain said, his eyes glittering. “They were arrested, the whole General Staff. All of them. As all enemies of Islam will be arrested now. We got Nassiri too - you’ve heard of him?” the mullah asked witheringly. Nassiri was the hated head of SAVAK whom the Shah had arrested a few weeks ago and who was in jail awaiting trial. “Nassiri was found guilty of crimes against humanity and shot - along with three other generals, Rahimi, martial law governor of Tehran, Naji, governor general of Isfahan, Paratrooper Commander Khosrowdad. You’re wasting time. Are you flying or not?”
Ayre was barely able to think. If what they say is true, then Peshadi and his wife are as good as dead. It’s all so fast, all so impossible. “We… of course we will fly a… a legal charter. Just exactly what is it you want?” “To transport His Excellency mullah Hussain Kowissi to Isfahan at once - with his personnel. At once,” Esvandiary interrupted impatiently, “with the prisoner and his wife.”
“They’re… Colonel and Mrs. Peshadi’re not on the manifest.” Even more impatiently Esvandiary ripped the paper out of his hands, wrote on it. “Now they are!” He motioned past Ayre and Dubois to where Manuela was standing in the background, her hair carefully tucked into a hat, wearing overalls. He had noticed her the moment he had arrived - enticing as always, unsettling as always. “I should arrest her for illegal trespass,” he said, his voice raw. “She has no right on this base - there are no married quarters, nor’re any allowed by base and S-G rules.”
Over by the 212, Colonel Peshadi angrily shouted in English, “Are you flying today or not? We’re getting cold. Hurry it up, Ayre - I want to spend as little time as possible with these vermin!”
Esvandiary and the mullah flushed. Ayre called back, feeling better for the man’s bravery, “Yes, sir. Sorry. Okay, Marc?”
“Yes.” To Esvandiary, Dubois said, “Where’s my military clearance?”
“Attached to the manifest. Also for your return trip tomorrow.” Esvandiary added in Farsi to the mullah: “I suggest you board, Excellency.” The mullah walked off. Guards motioned Peshadi and his wife aboard. Heads high, they went up the steps without faltering. Armed men piled in after them and the mullah took the front left seat beside Dubois. “Wait a minute,” Ayre began, now over the shock. “We’re not flying armed men. It’s against the rules - yours and ours!”
Esvandiary shouted an order, jerked a thumb at Manuela. At once four armed men surrounded her. Others moved much closer to Ayre. “Now, give Dubois a thumbs-up!”
Grimly aware of the danger, Ayre obeyed. Dubois acknowledged and started up. Quickly he was airborne. “Now into the office,” Esvandiary said above the howl of the engines. He called the men off Manuela and ordered them back into the cars. “Leave one car here and four guards - I have more orders for these foreigners. You,” he added toughly to Pavoud, “you get an up-to-date on all aircraft here, all spares, all transport, as well as the quantity of gasoline, also numbers of personnel, foreign and Iranians, their names, jobs, passport numbers, residence permits, work permits, flying licenses. Understand?”
“Yes, yes, Excellency Esvandiary. Yes, cert - ”
“And I want to see all passports and permits tomorrow. Get busy!” The man left hurriedly. Esvandiary was bowed through the front door. He led the way into Starke’s office and took the main chair and sat behind the desk, Ayre following him. “Sit down.”
“Thanks, you’re so kind,” Ayre said witheringly, taking the chair opposite him. The two men were of an age and they watched each other. The Iranian took out a cigarette and lit it. “This will be my office from now on,” he said. “Now that at long last Iran is back in Iranian hands we can begin to make the necessary changes. For the next two weeks you will operate under my personal guidance until I am sure the new way is understood. I am the top IranOil authority for Kowiss and I’ll issue all flight permits; no one takes off without written approval and always with an armed guard an - ”
“It’s against air law and Iranian law and it’s forbidden. Apart from that it’s bloody dangerous. Finish!”
There was a big silence. Then Esvandiary nodded. “You will carry guards who will have guns - but no ammunition.” He
smiled. “There, you see, we can compromise. We can be reasonable, oh, yes. You’ll see, the new era will be good for you too.”
“I hope it is. For you too.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning every revolution I’ve ever read about always begins by feeding off itself, friends quickly become enemies and even quicker die.” “Not with us.” Esvandiary was totally confident. “It won’t be that way with us. Ours was a real people’s revolution - of all the people. Everyone wanted the Shah out - and his foreign masters.”
“I hope you’re right.” You poor bastard, Ayre thought, once having liked him. If your leaders can judge, condemn, and shoot four top generals - all good men except for Nassiri - in less than twenty-four hours, can arrest and abuse fine patriots like Peshadi and his wife, God help you. “Are you finished with me for the present?”
“Almost.” A shaft of anger went through Esvandiary. Through the windows he noticed Manuela walking back to the bungalow with some of the pilots, and his lust increased his rage. “It would be good to learn manners and that Iran is an Asian, an Oriental country, a world power and never, never again to be exploited by British, Americans, or even Soviets. Never again.” He slouched in his chair and put his feet on the desk as he had seen Starke and Ayre do a hundred times, the soles of his feet toward Ayre, always an insult in this part of the world. “British were worse than the Americans. They’ve caused us national shame for a hundred and fifty years, treating our ancient Peacock Throne and country as their private fief, using the defense of India as an excuse. They’ve dictated to our rulers, occupied us three times, forced unequal treaties on us, bribed our leaders to grant them concessions. For a hundred and fifty years British and Russians have partitioned my country, the British helped those other hyenas to steal our northern provinces, our Caucasus, and helped put Reza Khan on the throne. They occupied us, with the Soviets, in your world war and only our own supreme efforts broke the chain and threw them out.” Abruptly the man’s face contorted and he screamed, “Didn’t they?”