the mullah Tehrani.” Then he glanced at Lochart and switched to Farsi. “As His Excellency Tehrani does not speak English, you will interpret for me. Your name, please.”
“Lochart, Captain Lochart.”
“Please sit down, both of you. His Excellency says you are married to an Iranian. What was her maiden name?”
Lochart’s eyes hardened. “My private life is my private life, Excellency.” “Not for a foreign helicopter pilot in the middle of our Islamic revolution against foreign domination,” the major said angrily, “nor one who knows traitors to the state. Do you have something to hide, Captain?” “No, no, of course not.”
“Then please answer the question.”
“Are you police? By what authority do y - ”
The mullah said, “I am a member of the Doshan Tappeh komiteh - you prefer to be summoned officially? Now? This minute?”
“I prefer not to be questioned about my private life.”
“If you have nothing to hide you can answer the question. Please choose.” “Bakravan.” Lochart saw the name register on both men. His stomach became even more queasy.
“Jared Bakravan - the bazaari moneylender? One of his daughters?” “Yes.”
“Her name, please.”
Lochart held on to his blinding rage, compounded by Karim’s murder. It is murder, he wanted to shout, whatever you say. “Her Excellency, Sharazad.” McIver had been watching intently. “What’s all this about, Tom?” “Nothing. Nothing, I’ll tell you later.”
The major made a note on a piece of paper. “What is your relationship to the traitor Karim Peshadi?”
“I’ve known him for about two years, he was one of my student pilots. He’s my wife’s first cousin - was my wife’s first cousin - and I can only repeat it’s inconceivable that he would be a traitor to Iran or Islam.” The major made another note on the pad, the pen scratching loudly. “Where are you staying, Captain?”
“I… I’m not sure. I was staying at the Bakravan house near the bazaar. Our… our apartment was commandeered.”
The silence gathered in the room, making it claustrophobic. The major finished writing then picked up a page of notes and looked directly at McIver. “First, no foreign helicopters may be moved in or out of Tehran airspace without air force HQ clearance.”
Lochart translated and McIver nodded noncommittally. This was nothing new, except that the komiteh at Tehran International Airport had just issued official written instructions on behalf of the all-powerful Revolutionary Komiteh that the komiteh alone could authorize and grant such clearances. McIver had got permission to send out his remaining 212 and one of his Alouettes to Kowiss “on temporary loan” just in time, he thought grimly, concentrating on the major, but wondering what the sharp Farsi exchange with Lochart had been all about.
“Second: we require a complete list of all helicopters under your present control, where they are in Iran, their engine numbers, and the amount and type of spares you are carrying per helicopter.”
Lochart saw McIver’s eyes widen, his own mind locked into Sharazad and why they wanted to know where he lived and her relationship with Karim, hardly listening to the words as he translated back and forth. “Captain McIver says: ‘Very well. It will take me a little time, because of communications, but I will get it for you as soon as possible.’”
“I would like it tomorrow.”
“If I can get it by then, Excellency, rest assured you will have it. You will have it as soon as possible.”
“Third: all your helicopters in the Tehran area will be assembled here starting tomorrow, and from now on will operate only out of here.” “I will certainly inform my superiors in IranOil of your request, Major. Instantly.”
The major’s face hardened. “The air force is the arbiter of this.” “Of course. I will inform my superiors at once. Was that all, Major?” The mullah said, “About the helicopter.” He referred to a note on the desk in front of him. “HBC. We w - ”
“HBC!” McIver allowed his panic to explode into a righteous anger that Lochart had a hard time keeping up with: “Security’s the responsibility of the air force on the base and how they could have been so lax to allow HBC to be hijacked I don’t know! Time and again I’ve complained about laxness, sentries never appearing, no guards at night. A million dollars of theft! Irreplaceable! I am instituting a claim against the air force for negligence an - ”
“It wasn’t our fault,” the major began angrily, but McIver paid no attention and continued the offensive, allowing him no opening, nor did Lochart, who turned McIver’s tirade into apt Iranian words and phrases for an even more slashing attack on air force perfidy.
“…unbelievable negligence - I might even say deliberate treachery and collusion by other officers - to allow some unknown American to get into our hangar under the very noses of our supposed guardians, to be given clearance to fly off by our supposed protectors, and then allowed to do damage to the great Iranian state! Unforgivable! Of course it was treachery and preplanned by ‘persons unknown holding officer rank,’ and I must ins - ” “How dare you imply th - ”
“Of course it must have been with air force officer collusion - who controls the base? Who controls the airwaves, who sits in the tower? We hold the air force responsible and I’m registering the complaint to the highest level of IranOil demanding restitution and… and next week, next week I will apply for redress to the illustrious Revolutionary Komiteh and the Imam himself, may God protect him! Now, Excellency, if you will excuse us we will go about our business. Peace be with you!”
McIver went for the door, Lochart following, both men overloaded with adrenaline, McIver feeling terrible, his chest aching.
“Wait!” the mullah ordered.
“Yes, Excellency?”
“How do you explain that the traitor Valik - who ‘happens’ to be a partner of your company and kinsman of the usurer and Shah supporter Bakravan - arrived in Isfahan in this helicopter to pick up other traitors, one of whom was General Seladi, another kinsman of Jared Bakravan - father-in-law to one of your senior pilots?” Lochart’s mouth was very dry as he spoke the doom-filled words but McIver did not hesitate and came back to the attack. “I did not appoint General Valik to our board, he was appointed by high-up Iranians according to your then current law - we did not seek Iranian partners, it was Iranian law that we had to have them, they were forced upon us. Nothing to do with me. As to the rest, Insha’Allah - the Will of God!” Heart thundering, he opened the door and stalked off. Lochart finished translating. “Salaam.” He followed. “You’ve not heard the last of this,” the major shouted after him.
NEAR THE UNIVERSITY: 6:07 P.M. They were lying side by side on soft carpets in front of the wood fire that burned merrily in the pleasant room. Sharazad and Ibrahim Kyabi. They were not touching, just watching the fire, listening to the good, modern music from the cassette player, lost in thought, each too aware of the other.
“Thou, gift of the Universe,” he murmured, “thou of the ruby lips and breath like wine, thou, tongue of Heaven …”
“Oh, Ibrahim,” she laughed. “What is this ‘tongue of Heaven’?” He raised himself onto an elbow and looked down at her, blessing fate that had allowed him to save her from the insane zealot at the Women’s March, the same fate that would soon guide him to Kowiss to revenge his father’s murder. “I was quoting the Rubaiyat,” he said, smiling at her. “I don’t believe a word of it! I think you made it up.” She returned his smile, then shielded her eyes from the glow of his love by looking again at the embers.
After the first Protest March, now six days ago, long into that evening they had talked together, discussing the revolution and finding common cause in the murder of her father and his father, both of them children of loneliness now, their mothers not understanding, only weeping and Insha’Allah and never the need for revenge. Their lives turned upside down like their country, Ibrahim no longer a Believer - only in the strength and purpose of the People - her belief shaken, questioning for the first time, wondering how God could permit such evil and all the other evils that had come to pass, the corruption of the land and its spirit. “I agree, Ibrahim, you’re right. We haven’t rid ourselves of one despot to acquire another! You’re right, the despotism of the mullahs daily becomes more clear,” she had said. “But why does Khomeini oppose the rights that the Shah gave to us, reasonable rights?”
“They’re your inalienable rights as a human being, not the Shah’s to give, or anyone’s - like your body’s your own, not a ‘field to be plowed.’” “But why is the Imam opposed?”
