anyone arriving unasked.” “But we’re asked, at least you are. Ordered is the real word. We could go over there, circle, and take a look, and if it seems all right, we could land.”
“We could land well away and walk in t - ”
“No walking. Not without guns.” He had been unable to obtain one in Tehran. Every damned hooligan has as many as he wants, he thought irritably. Have to get one. Don’t feel safe anymore. “We’ll go and look and then I’ll decide.” He switched to the Tabriz Tower frequency and called. No answer. He called again, then banked and went for the city. As they passed over their village of Abu Mard, Erikki pointed downward and Azadeh saw the little schoolhouse where she had spent so many happy hours, the glades nearby and there, just by the stream, was where she had first seen Erikki and thought him a giant of the forest and had fallen in love, miracle of miracles, to be rescued by him from a life of torment. She reached forward and touched him through the small window.
“You all right? Warm enough?” He smiled at her.
“Oh, yes, Erikki. The village was so lucky for us, wasn’t it?” She kept her hand on his shoulder. The contact pleased both of them.
Soon they could see the airport and the railroad that went north to Soviet Azerbaijan a few miles away, then on to Moscow, southeast it curled back to Tehran, three hundred and fifty miles away. The city was large. Now they could pick out the citadel andtrying to shove away the depression that sat heavily on all of them.
Azadeh was still badly shaken by the news of Emir Paknouri’s execution for “crimes against Islam” and by the even more terrible news about Sharazad’s father. “That’s murder,” she had burst out, horrified, when she had heard. “What crimes could he commit, he who has supported Khomeini and mullahs for generations?”
None of them had had any answer. The family had been told to collect the body and now were in deep and abject mourning, Sharazad demented with grief - the house closed even to Azadeh and Erikki. Azadeh had not wanted to leave Tehran but a second message had arrived from her father to Erikki, repeating the first: “Captain, I require my daughter in Tabriz urgently.” And now they were almost home.
Once it was home, Erikki thought. Now I’m not so sure.
Near Qazvin he had flown over the place where his Range Rover had run out of gas and Pettikin and Rakoczy had rescued Azadeh and him from the mob. The Range Rover was no longer mere. Then over the miserable village where the roadblock had been, and he had escaped to crush the fat-faced mujhadin who had stolen their papers. Madness to come back, he thought. “Mac’s right,” Azadeh had pleaded with him. “Go to Al Shargaz. Let Nogger fly me to Tabriz and fly me back to get on the next shuttle. I’ll join you in Al Shargaz whatever my father says.”
“I’ll take you home and bring you back,” he had said. “Finish.” They had taken off from Doshan Tappeh just after dawn. The base was almost empty, with many buildings and hangars now burned-out shells, wrecked Iranian Air Force airplanes, trucks, and one fire-gutted tank with the Immortals emblem on its side. No one cleaning up the mess. No guards. Scavengers taking away anything burnable - still hardly any fuel oil for sale, or food, but many daily and nightly clashes between Green Bands and leftists.
The S-G hangar and repair shop were hardly damaged. Many bullet holes in the walls but nothing had been looted yet and it was operating, more or less, with a few mechanics and office staff about their normal work. Some back salary from the money McIver had squeezed from Valik and the other partners had been the magnet. He had given some cash to Erikki to pay the staff at Tabriz One: “Start praying, Erikki! Today I’ve an appointment at the Ministry to iron out our finances and the money we’re owed,” he had told them just before they took off, “and to renew all our out-of-date licenses. Talbot at the embassy fixed it for me - he thinks there’s a better than good chance Bazargan and Khomeini can get control now and disarm the leftists. We’ve just got to keep our bottle, keep our cool.” Easy for him, Erikki thought.
Now they crested the pass. He banked and came down fast. “There’s the base!” Both pilots concentrated. The wind sock was the only thing that moved. No transport parked anywhere. No smoke from any of the cabins. “There should be smoke.” He circled tightly at seven hundred feet. No one came out to greet them. “I’ll take a closer look.”
They whirled in quickly and out again. Still nothing moved so they went back up to a thousand feet. Erikki thought a moment. “Azadeh, I could set her down in the forecourt of the palace or just outside the walls.” At once Azadeh shook her head. “No, Erikki, you know how nervous his guards are and how, how sensitive he is about anyone arriving unasked.” “But we’re asked, at least you are. Ordered is the real word. We could go over there, circle, and take a look, and if it seems all right, we could land.”
“We could land well away and walk in t - ”
“No walking. Not without guns.” He had been unable to obtain one in Tehran. Every damned hooligan has as many as he wants, he thought irritably. Have to get one. Don’t feel safe anymore. “We’ll go and look and then I’ll decide.” He switched to the Tabriz Tower frequency and called. No answer. He called again, then banked and went for the city. As they passed over their village of Abu Mard, Erikki pointed downward and Azadeh saw the little schoolhouse where she had spent so many happy hours, the glades nearby and there, just by the stream, was where she had first seen Erikki and thought him a giant of the forest and had fallen in love, miracle of miracles, to be rescued by him from a life of torment. She reached forward and touched him through the small window.
“You all right? Warm enough?” He smiled at her.
“Oh, yes, Erikki. The village was so lucky for us, wasn’t it?” She kept her hand on his shoulder. The contact pleased both of them.
Soon they could see the airport and the railroad that went north to Soviet Azerbaijan a few miles away, then on to Moscow, southeast it curled back to Tehran, three hundred and fifty miles away. The city was large. Now they could pick out the citadel and the Blue Mosque and polluting steel factories, the huts and hovels and houses of the six hundred thousand inhabitants.
“Look over there!” Part of the railway station was smoldering, smoke billowing. More fires near the citadel and no answer from Tabriz Tower and no activity on the airfield apron, though some small, feeder airplanes were parked there. A lot of activity at the military base, trucks and cars coming and going, but as far as they could see, no firing or battles or crowds in the streets, the whole area near the mosque curiously empty. “Don’t want to go too low,” he said, “don’t want to tempt some trigger-happy crackpot.” “You like Tabriz, Erikki?” Nogger asked, to cover his disquiet. He had never been here before.
“It’s a grand city, old and wise and open and free - the most cosmopolitan in Iran. I’ve had some grand times here, the food and drink of all the world cheap and available - caviar and Russian vodka and Scottish smoked salmon and once a week, in the good times, Air France brought fresh French breads and cheeses. Turkish goods and Caucasian, British, American, Japanese - anything and everything. It’s famous for its carpets, Nogger, and the beauty of its girls…” He felt Azadeh pinch his earlobe and he laughed. “It’s true, Azadeh, aren’t you Tabrizi? It’s a fine city, Nogger. They speak a dialect of Farsi which is more Turkish than anything else. For centuries it’s been a big trading center, part Iranian, part Russian, part Turkish, part Kurd, part Armenian, and always rebellious and independent and always wanted by the tsars and now the Soviets…”
Here and there knots of people stared up at them. “Nogger, see any guns?” “Plenty, but no one’s firing at us. Yet.”
Cautiously Erikki skirted the city and headed eastward. There the land climbed into close foothills and there was the walled palace of the Gorgons on a crest with the road leading up to it. No traffic on the road. Many acres of land within the high walls: orchards, a carpet factory, garages for twenty cars, sheds for wintering herds of sheep, huts and outhouses for a hundred-odd servants and guards, and the sprawling main cupolaed building of fifty rooms and small mosque and tiny minaret. A number of cars were parked near the main entrance. He circled at seven hundred feet. “That’s some pad,” Nogger Lane said, awed.
“It was built for my greatgrandfather by Prince Zergeyev on orders of the Romanov tsars, Nogger, as a pishkesh,” Azadeh said absently, watching the grounds below. “That was in 1890 when the tsars had already stolen our Caucasian provinces and once more were trying to split Azerbaijan from Iran and wanted the help of the Gorgon Khans. But our line has always been loyal to Iran though they have sought to maintain a balance.” She was watching the palace below. People were coming out of the main house and some of the outhouses - servants and armed guards. “The mosque was built in 1907 to celebrate the signing of the new Russian-British accord on their partitioning of us, and spheres of infl - Oh, look, Erikki, isn’t that Najoud and Fazulia and Zadi… and, oh, look, Erikki, isn’t that my brother Hakim - what’s Hakim doing there?”
“Where? Oh, I see him. No, I don’t th - ”
“Perhaps… perhaps Abdollah Khan’s forgiven him,” she said excitedly. “Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful!”
Erikki peered at the people below. He had only met her brother once, at their wedding, but he had liked him
