wot I owe you. “Kish, this is HST. Abeam Kish, steady at one thousand.”
“Kish. Maintain one thousand. You have traffic due east at ten thousand.” “I have them in sight.” They were two fighters. He pointed for Kasigi who had not seem them. “They’re FMs, probably out of Bandar Abbas,” he said. Kasigi did not reply, just nodded, and this made Scragger feel worse. The minutes passed. Droning onward. Then Scragger decided, hating having to do it. “Sorry,” he said gruffly, “but you’ll have to wait until Al Shargaz. Andy Gavallan can help, I can’t.” “He can help? In what way? What’s the trouble?”
After a pause Scragger said, “If anyone can help, he can. Let’s leave it at that, cobber.”
Kasigi heard the finality but dismissed it and let the matter rest for a moment, his mind abuzz with fresh danger signals. That Scragger had not fallen into his trap and told him the secret made him respect the man more. But that doesn’t forgive him, he thought, his fury building. He’s told me enough to forewarn me, now it’s up to me to find out the rest. So Gavallan’s the key? To what?
Kasigi felt his head about to burst. Haven’t I promised that madman Zataki we would be in business at once? How dare these men jeopardize our whole project - our National Project. Without choppers we can’t start! It’s tantamount to treason against Japan! What is it they’re planning? With a great effort he kept his face bland. “I’ll certainly see Gavallan as soon as possible, and let’s hope you’ll head up our new operation, eh?” “Whatever Andy Gavallan says, it’s up to him.”
Don’t be too sure, Kasigi was thinking, because whatever happens I will have choppers, at once - yours, Guerney’s, I don’t care whose. But by my samurai ancestors, the Iran-Toda will not be put to further risk! It will not! Nor will I!
Chapter 53
TABRIZ - AT THE KHAN’S PALACE: 10:50 A.M. Azadeh followed Ahmed into the Western-style room and over to the four-poster bed, and now that she was again within the walls she felt her skin crawling with fear. Sitting near the bed was a nurse in a starched white uniform, a book half open in her lap, watching them curiously through her glasses. Musty brocade curtains covered the windows against drafts. Lights were dimmed. And the stench of an old man hung in the air.
The Khan’s eyes were closed, his face pasty and breathing strangled, his arm connected to a saline drip that stood beside the bed. Half asleep in a chair nearby was Aysha, curled up and tiny, her hair disheveled and her face tear-stained. Azadeh smiled at her tentatively, sorry for her, then said to the nurse in a voice not her own, “How is His Highness, please?” “Fair. But he mustn’t have any excitement, or be disturbed,” the nurse said softly in hesitant Turkish. Azadeh looked at her and saw that she was European, in her fifties, dyed brown hair, a red cross on her sleeve. “Oh, you’re English, or French?”
“Scots,” the woman replied in English with obvious relief, her accent slight. She kept her voice down, watching the Khan. “I’m Sister Bain from the Tabriz Hospital and the patient is doing as well as can be expected - considering he will no’ do as he’s told. And who might you be, please?” “I’m his daughter, Azadeh. I’ve just arrived from Tehran - he sent for me. We’ve… we’ve traveled all night.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, surprised that someone so beautiful could have been created by a man so ugly. “If I might suggest, lassie, it would be better to leave him sleeping. As soon as he wakes I’ll tell him you’re here and send for you. Better he sleeps.”
Ahmed said irritably, “Please, where’s His Highness’s guard?” “There’s no need for armed men in a sickroom. I sent him away.”
“There will always be a guard here unless the Khan orders him out or I order him out.” Angrily Ahmed turned and left. Azadeh said, “It’s just a custom, Sister.” “Aye, very well. But that’s another custom we can do without.” Azadeh looked back at her father, hardly recognizing him, trying to stop the terror that possessed her. Even like that, she thought, even like that he can still destroy us, Hakim and me - he still has his running dog Ahmed. “Please, really, how is he?”
The lines on the nurse’s face creased even more. “We’re doing all we can.” “Would it be better for him to be in Tehran?” “Aye, if he has another stroke, yes, it would.” Sister Bain took his pulse as she talked. “But I wouldna recommend moving him, not at all, not yet.” She made a notation on a chart and then glanced at Aysha. “You could tell the lady there’s no need to stay, she should get some proper rest too, poor child.”
“Sorry, I may not interfere. Sorry, but that’s a custom too. Is … is it likely he’ll have another stroke?”
“You never know, lassie, that’s up to God. We hope for the best.” They looked around as the door opened. Hakim stood there beaming. Azadeh’s eyes lit up and she said to the nurse, “Please call me the instant His Highness awakes,” then hurried across the room, out into the corridor, closed the door, and hugged him.
“Oh, Hakim, my darling, it’s been such a long time,” she said breathlessly. “Oh, is it really true?”
“Yes, yes, it is but how did…” Hakim stopped, hearing footsteps. Ahmed and a guard turned into the corridor and came up to them. “I’m glad you’re back, Ahmed,” he said politely. “His Highness will be happy too.” “Thank you, Highness. Has anything happened in my absence?” “No, except that Colonel Fazir came this morning to see Father.” Ahmed was chilled. “Was he allowed in?”
“No. You left instructions no one was to be admitted without His Highness’s personal permission; he was asleep at the time and he’s been asleep most of the day - I check every hour and the nurse says he’s unchanged.” “Good. Thank you. Did the colonel leave a message?”
“Only that he was going to Julfa today as arranged with his ‘associate.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
“No, Highness,” Ahmed lied blandly. He glanced from one to the other but before he could say anything, Hakim said, “We’ll be in the Blue Salon; please summon us the moment my father awakens.”
Ahmed watched them go arm in arm down the corridor, the young man tall and handsome, the sister willowy and desirable. Traitors? Not much time to get the proof, he thought. He went back into the sickroom and saw the pallor of the Khan, his nostrils rebelling against the smell. He squatted on his haunches, careless of the disapproving nurse, and began his vigil. What did that son of a dog Fazir want? he asked himself. Saturday evening when Hashemi Fazir and Armstrong had come back from Julfa without Mzytryk, Fazir had angrily demanded to see the Khan. Ahmed had been present when the Khan had seen them, declared himself as mystified as they that Mzytryk was not with the helicopter. “Come back tomorrow - if the man brings me a letter you can see it,” the Khan had said.
“Thank you, but we will wait - the Chevy can’t be far behind us.” So they had waited, the Khan seething but unable to do anything, Hashemi’s men spread around the palace in ambush. An hour later the Chevy had arrived. He himself had admitted the chauffeur while Hashemi and the Farsispeaking Infidel hid in the room next door. “I have a private message for His Highness,” the Soviet had said.
In the sickroom the Soviet said, “Highness, I’m to give it to you when you’re alone.”
“Give it to me now. Ahmed is my most trusted counselor. Give it to me!” Reluctantly the man obeyed and Ahmed remembered the sudden flush that had rushed into the Khan’s face the moment he began to read it. “There is an answer?” the Soviet had said truculently.
Choked with rage the Khan had shaken his head and dismissed the man and had handed Ahmed the letter. It read: “My friend, I was shocked to hear about your illness and would be with you now but I have to stay here on urgent matters. I have bad news for you: it may be that you and your spy ring are betrayed to Inner Intelligence or SAVAMA - did you know that turncoat Abrim Pahmudi now heads this new version of SAVAK? If you’re betrayed to Pahmudi, be prepared to defect at once or you’ll quickly see the inside of a torture chamber. I have alerted our people to help you if necessary. If it appears safe, I will arrive Tuesday at dusk. Good luck.”
The Khan had had no option but to show the message to the two men. “Is it true? About Pahmudi?”
“Yes. He’s an old friend of yours, isn’t he?” Fazir had said, taunting him. “No… no he is not. Get out!”
“Certainly, Highness. Meanwhile this palace is under surveillance. There’s no need to defect. Please do nothing to interfere with Mzytryk’s arrival on Tuesday, do nothing to encourage any more revolt in Azerbaijan. As to Pahmudi and SAVAMA, they can do nothing here without my approval. I’m the law in Tabriz now. Obey and I’ll protect you, disobey and you’ll be his pishkesh!”
Then the two men had left, and the Khan had exploded with rage, more angry than Ahmed had ever seen him. The paroxysm became worse and worse then suddenly it ceased, the Khan was lying on the floor, and he was looking down on him, expecting to see him dead but he was not. Just a waxen pallor and twitching, breathing choked.
“As God wants,” Ahmed muttered, not wanting to relive that night.
IN THE BLUE SALON: 11:15 A.M. When they were quite alone, Hakim swung Azadeh off her feet. “Oh, it’s
