“What’s up, Mac?” he said, the chill wind tugging at their winter clothes and billowing the snow around them.
“Trouble, Andy.”
“I know that. Tell it to me quickly.”
McIver leaned closer. “I’ve just heard we’ve barely a week, before we’re grounded pending nationalization.”
“What?” Gavallan was suddenly numb. “Talbot told you?”
“No, Armstrong, a few minutes ago when the colonel was in the loo and we were alone.” McIver’s face twisted. “The bastard told me with his smooth, put-on politeness, ‘I wouldn’t bet on more than ten days if I were you - a week’d be safe - and don’t forget, Mr. McIver, a closed mouth catches no flies.’”
“My God, does he know we are planning something?” A gust speckled them with powdered snow.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know, Andy.”
“What about HBC? Did he mention her?”
“No. When I asked about the papers, all he said was, “They’re safe.’” “Did he say when we’re to meet today?”
McIver shook his head. ” ‘If I’m back in time I’ll be in touch.’ Bastard.” He jerked his car door open.
In turmoil Gavallan brushed off the excess snow and slid into the warmth. The windows were fogged up. McIver switched the defrost and fan to maximum, heat already at maximum, then pushed the music cassette home, jacked the sound up, turned it down again, cursing.
“What else’s up, Mac?”
“Just about everything,” McIver blurted out. “Erikki’s been kidnapped by Soviets or the KGB and he’s somewhere up near the Turkish border with his 212, doing Christ knows what - Nogger thinks he’s being forced to help them clean out secret U.S. radar sites. Nogger, Azadeh, two of our mechanics and a British captain barely escaped from Tabriz with their lives, they got back yesterday and they’re at my place at the moment - at least they were when I left this morning. My God, Andy, you should have seen the state they were in when they arrived. The captain was the same one who saved Charlie at Doshan Tappeh and whom Charlie dropped off at Bandar-e Pahlavi…” “He what?”
“It was a secret op. He’s a captain in the Gurkhas… name’s Ross, John Ross, he and Azadeh were both pretty incoherent, Nogger too was pretty excited, and, at least they’re safe now but…” McIver’s voice became brittle. “Sony to tell you we’ve lost a mechanic at Zagros, Effer Jordon, he was shot an - ”
“Jesus Christ! Old Effer dead?”
“Yes… yes, I’m afraid so and your son was nicked… not badly,” McIver added hastily as Gavallan blanched. “Scot’s all right, he’s okay an - ” “How badly?”
“Bullet through the fleshy part of the right shoulder. No bones touched, just a flesh wound - JeanLuc said they’ve penicillin, a medic, the wound’s clean. Scot won’t be able to ferry the 212 out tomorrow to Al Shargaz so I asked JeanLuc to do it and take Scot with him, then come back to Tehran on the next 125 flight and we’ll get him back to Kowiss.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know exactly. I got a relayed message from Starke this morning who’d just picked it up from JeanLuc. It seems that terrorists are operating in the Zagros, I suppose the same bunch that attacked Bellissima and Rosa, they must’ve been hiding in ambush in the forests around our base. Effer Jordon and Scot were loading spares into the 212 just after dawn this morning and got sprayed. Poor old Effer got most of the bullets and Scot just one…” Again McIver added hurriedly, seeing Gavallan’s face, “JeanLuc assured me Scot’s all right, Andy, honest to God!”
“I wasn’t thinking just about Scot,” Gavallan said heavily. “Effer’s been with us damn nearly since we started - hasn’t he got three kids?” “Yes, yes, he has. Terrible.” McIver let in the clutch and eased the car through the snow back toward their office. “They’re all still at school, I think.”
“I’ll do something about them soon as I get back. Go on about Zagros.” “Nothing much more. Tom Lochart wasn’t there - he had to stay overnight at Kowiss Friday. JeanLuc said they didn’t see any of the attackers, no one did, the shots just came out of the forest - the base’s in chaos anyway what with our birds working overtime, bringing men from all the outlying rigs and ferrying them in batches to Shiraz, everyone pitching in to clear out before the deadline tomorrow at sunset.”
“Will they make it?”
“More or less. We’ll get out all our oilers and our chaps, most of our valuable spares and all choppers to Kowiss. The rig support equipment’ll have to be left but that’s not our responsibility. God knows what’ll happen to the base and rigs without servicing.”
“It’ll all go back to wilderness.”
“I agree, bloody stupid waste! Bloody stupid! I asked Colonel Fazir if there was anything he could do. The bastard just smiled his thin rotten smile and said it was hard enough to find out what the hell was going on at the office next door in Tehran, let alone so far south. I asked him what about the komiteh at the airport - could they help? He said no, that komitehs have almost no liaison with anyone else, even in Tehran. To quote him: ‘Up in the Zagros among the half-civilized nomads and tribesmen, unless you’ve guns, you’re Iranian, preferably an ayatollah, you’d best do what they say.’” McIver coughed and blew his nose irritably. “The bastard wasn’t laughing at us, Andy. Even so, he wasn’t unhappy either.” Gavallan was in dismay, so many questions to ask and to be answered, everything in jeopardy, here and at home. A week to doomsday? Thank God that Scot… poor old Effer… Christ Almighty, Scot shot! Gloomily he looked out of the windshield and saw they were nearing the freight area. “Stop the car for a minute, Mac, better to talk in private, eh?”
“Sorry, yes, I’m not thinking too clearly.”
“You’re all right? I mean your health?”
“Oh, that’s fine, if I get rid of this cough… It’s just that… it’s just that I’m afraid.” McIver said it flat but the admission spiked through Gavallan. “I’m out of control, I’ve already lost one man, there’s HBC still hanging over us, old Erikki’s in danger, we’re all in danger, S-G and everything we’ve worked for.” He fiddled with the wheel. “Gen’s fine?” “Yes, yes, she is,” Gavallan said patiently, concerned for him. This was the second time he had answered that question. McIver had asked him the moment he had come down the steps of the 125. “Genny’s fine, Mac,” he said, repeating what he had said earlier, “I’ve mail from her, she’s talked to both Hamish and Sarah, both families’re fine and young Angus has his first tooth. Everyone’s well at home, all in good shape and I’ve a bottle of Loch Vay in my briefcase from her. She tried to talk her way past Johnny Hogg onto the 125 - to stow away in the loo - even after I’d said no, so sorry.” For the first time he saw a glimmer of a smile on McIver. “Gen’s ornery, no doubt about it. Glad she’s there and not here, very glad, curious though how you miss ‘em.” McIver stared ahead. “Thanks, Andy.” “Nothing.” Gavallan thought a moment. “Why get JeanLuc to take the 212? Why not Tom Lochart? Wouldn’t it be better to have him out?”
“Of course, but he won’t leave Iran without Sharazad… there’s another problem.” The music on the tape went out and he turned it over and started it again. “I can’t track her down. Tom was worried about her, asked me to go to her family’s home near the bazaar which I did. Couldn’t get an answer, didn’t seem to be anyone there, Tom’s sure she was on the Women’s Protest March.”
“Christ! We heard about the riots and arrests on the BBC-and attacks by nutters on some of the women. You think she’s in jail?” “I hope to God she isn’t - you heard about her father? Oh, of course, I told you myself last time you were here, didn’t I?” McIver wiped the windshield absently. “What would you like to do - wait here until the bird comes back?” “No. Let’s go into Tehran - do we have time?” Gavallan glanced at his watch. It read 12:25.
“Oh, yes. We’ve got a load of ‘redundant’ stores to put aboard. We’ll have time if we leave now.”
“Good. I’d like to see Azadeh and Nogger - and this man Ross - and particularly Talbot. We could go past the Bakravan house on the off chance. Eh?”
“Good idea. I’m glad you’re here, Andy, very glad.” He eased in the clutch, the wheels skidding.
“So’m I, Mac. Actually I’ve never been so down either.”
McIver coughed and cleared his throat. “Home news is lousy?” “Yes.” Idly Gavallan wiped away the condensation from his side window with the back of his glove. “There’s a special board meeting of Struan’s Monday. I’ll have to come up with answers about Iran. Damned nuisance!” “Will Linbar be there?”
“Yes. That bugger’s going to ruin the Noble House before he’s through. Stupid to expand into South America when China’s on the threshold of opening up.”
