Kurds but the Khan doubts it. They surprised theing his clothes, and Azadeh shouted after him, “Now show it to me!”
“Oh, Highness, I didn’t hear you knock, what’s going on?” the old manservant called out, rushing from the kitchen area.
Angrily she wiped the perspiration off her face and told him. “God curse you, Ali, I’ve told you twenty times to meet me downstairs with the dog. I’m on time, I’m always on time. Have you no brains?”
The old man apologized but a rough voice behind her cut him short. “Go and get the dog!” She looked around. Her stomach twisted.
“Good evening, Highness.” It was Ahmed Dursak, tall, bearded, chilling, standing in the doorway of the living room. Insha’Allah, she thought. The waiting is over and now it begins again. “Good evening, Ahmed.” “Highness, please excuse me, I didn’t realize about people in Tehran or I would have waited downstairs myself. Ali, get the dog!”
Afraid and still mumbling apologies, the servant scuttled down the stairs. Ahmed closed the door and watched Azadeh use the heel fork to take off her boots, slip her small feet into curved Turkish slippers. She went past him into the comfortable, West-em-style living room and sat down, her heart thumping. A fire flickered in the grate. Priceless carpets, others used as wall hangings. Beside her was a small table. On the table was the kookri that Ross had left her. “You have news of my father and my husband?” “His Highness the Khan is ill, very ill an - ” “What illness?” Azadeh asked, at once genuinely concerned. “A heart attack.”
“God protect him - when did this happen?” “On Thursday last.” He read her thought. “That was the day you and… and the saboteur were in the village of Abu Mard. Wasn’t it?”
“I suppose so. The last few days have been very confused,” she said icily. “How is my father?”
“The attack on Thursday was mild, thanks be to God. Just before midnight Saturday he had another. Much worse.” He watched her.
“How much worse? Please don’t play with me! Tell me everything at once!” “Ah, so sorry, Highness, I did not mean to toy with you.” He kept his voice polite and his eyes off her legs, admiring her fire and pride and wanting to toy with her very much. “The doctor called it a stroke and now the left side of His Highness is partially paralyzed; he can still talk - with some difficulty - but his mind is as strong as ever. The doctor said he would recover much quicker in Tehran but the journey is not possible yet.” “He will recover?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Highness. As God wants. To me he seems very sick. The doctor, I don’t think much of him, all he said was His Highness’s chances would be better if he was here in Tehran.” “Then bring him here as soon as possible.” “I will, Highness, never fear. Meanwhile I have a message for you. The Khan, your father, says, ‘I wish to see you. At once. I do not know how long I will live but certain arrangements must be made-and confirmed. Your brother is with me now and - ’”
“God protect him,” Azadeh burst out. “Is my father reconciled with Hakim?” “His Highness has made him his heir. But pl - ” “Oh, that’s wonderful, wonderful, God be praised! But h - ” “Please be patient and let me finish his message: ‘Your brother Hakim is with me now and I have made him my heir, subject to certain conditions, from you and from him.’” Ahmed hesitated and Azadeh wanted to rush into the gap, her happiness brimming and her caution brimming. Her pride stopped her.
“‘It is therefore necessary that you return with Ahmed at once.’ That is the end of the message, Highness.”
The front door opened. Ali relocked it and unleashed the dog. At once the dog loped into the living room and put his head in Azadeh’s lap. “Well done, Reza,” she said petting him, welcoming the moment to collect her wits. “Sit. Go on, sit! Sit!” Happily the dog obeyed, then lay at her feet, watching the door and watching Ahmed who stood near the other sofa. Absently her hand played with the hilt of the kookri, its touch giving her reassurance. Obliquely Ahmed was conscious of it and its implications. “Before God you have told me the truth?” “Yes, Highness. Before God.”
“Then we will go at once.” She got up. “You came by car?” “Yes, Highness. I brought the limousine and chauffeur. But there’s a little more news - good and bad. A ransom note came to His Highness. His Excellency your husband is in the hands of bandits, tribesmen…” She tried to maintain her composure, her knees suddenly weak. “… somewhere near the Soviet border. Both him and his helicopter. It seems that these… these bandits claim to be Kurds but the Khan doubts it. They surprised the Soviet Cimtarga and his men and killed them all, capturing His Excellency and the helicopter, early Thursday they claimed. Then they flew to Rezaiyeh where he was seen and appeared unharmed before flying off again.”
“Praise be to God,” was all her pride allowed herself. “Is my husband ransomed?”
“The ransom note arrived late on Saturday, through intermediaries. As soon as His Highness regained consciousness yesterday he gave me the message for you and sent me here to fetch you.”
She heard the “fetch” and knew its seriousness but Ahmed made nothing of it openly and reached into his pocket. “His Highness Hakim gave me this for you.” He handed her the sealed envelope. She ripped it open, startling the dog. The note was in Hakim’s handwriting: “My darling, His Highness has made me his heir and reinstated both of us, subject to conditions, wonderful conditions, easy to agree. Hurry back, he’s very ill, and he will not deal with the ransom until he sees you. Salaam.”
Swamped with happiness she hurried out, packed a bag in almost no time, scribbled a note for McIver, telling Ah’ to deliver it tomorrow. As an afterthought she picked up the kookri and walked out, cradling it. Ahmed said nothing, just followed her.
Tuesday - February 27
Chapter 52
BANDAR DELAM: 8:15 A.M. Kasigi was hurrying after the grim-faced police officer through the drab crowded corridors of the hospital - the radio mechanic, Minoru, a few paces behind him. Sick and wounded men and women and children were on stretchers or chairs or standing or simply lying on the floor, waiting for someone to help them, the very sick mixed with the lightly sick, a few relieving themselves, a few eating and drinking provisions brought by their visiting relatives who abounded - and all who could, complained loudly. Harassed nurses and doctors went in and out of rooms, all medical women dressed in chador except a few British, Queen Alexandra nurses whose severe headdress was almost the equivalent and acceptable.
Eventually the policeman found the door he sought and pushed his way into the crowded ward. Beds lined both sides with another row in the middle, all occupied by men patients - their visiting families chattering or complaining, children playing, and over in one comer, an old woman cooking on a portable stove.
Scragger had one wrist and one ankle handcuffed to an old iron bedstead. He was lying on a straw mattress in his clothes and shoes, a bandage around his head, unshaven and dirty. When he saw Kasigi and Minoru behind the policeman his eyes lit up. “Hello, mates,” he said, his voice raw.
“How are you, Captain?” Kasigi said, appalled by the handcuffs. “If I could get free I’d be fine.”
Irritably the policeman interrupted loudly in Farsi for the benefit of the watchers, “This is the man you wanted to see?”
“Yes, Excellency,” Minoru said for Kasigi.
“So now you’ve seen him. You can report to your government or whomever you wish that clearly he’s been given treatment. He will be tried by the traffic komiteh.” Pompously he turned to go.
“But the captain pilot wasn’t the driver,” Kasigi said patiently in English, Minoru translating for him, having said it for most of the night and since dawn this morning to various policemen of various ranks, always getting varying degrees of the same answer: “If the foreigner wasn’t in Iran the accident would never have happened, of course he’s responsible.” “It doesn’t matter he wasn’t the driver, he’s still responsible!” the policeman said angrily, his voice echoing off the walls. “How many times must you be told? He was in charge of the car. He ordered it. If he hadn’t ordered it the accident would never have happened, people were killed and injured, of course he’s responsible!”
“But, I repeat, my assistant here was an eyewitness and will give evidence that the accident was caused by the other car.”
“Lies in front of the komiteh will be dealt with seriously,” the man said darkly, one of those who had been in the police car.
“Not lies, Agha. There are other witnesses,” Kasigi said, not that he had any, his voice sharpening. “I insist this man be released. He’s an employee of my government which has invested billions of dollars in our Iran-Toda petrochemical plant, to the benefit of Iran and particularly all people in Bandar Delam. Unless he is released at
