Scragger peered through the haze. He could see the half-constructed rig, a work barge moored to one of its legs. Instrument needles all in the Green and - hey, wait a moment, temperature’s up, oil pressure’s down on number one engine. Benson had seen it too. He tapped the dial, bent closer. The oil pressure needle went up slightly then fell back again, temperature a few degrees above normal - no time to worry about that now, get ready! The deck crew had heard and seen them and stopped working, clearing away from the well-marked helipad. When he was fifty feet off the rig, Scragger said: “Kish, HVX landing now. G’day.”
“HVX. Report direct Kish next. Request engine start. I repeat, report direct Kish next,” all said clearly. “Do you read?”
But Scragger did not acknowledge, or land. At a few feet he just pulled into a hover, waved to the deck crew who recognized him and assumed it was just a practice of a familiarization-training run for a new pilot, a constant habit of Scragger’s. A last wave, then he got forward motion, dropped neatly over the side, and hugging the sea, turned southwest at full throttle.
AT KOWISS AIR BASE: 10:21 A.M. The mullah Hussain was driving, and he stopped the car outside the office building. McIver got out. “Thank you,” he said, not knowing what to expect now, for Hussain had been silent since they had left the office. Lochart, Ayre, and the others were over by the helicopters. Kia stalked out of the office, stopped on seeing the mullah, then came down the steps. “Good morning, Excellency Hussain, greetings, how pleasant to see you.” He used a ministerial voice for an honored guest, but not an equal, then to McIver in English, curtly, “We should leave at once.” “Er, yes, Agha. Just give me a couple of minutes to get organized.” Glad I’m not Kia, he told himself as he walked off, his stomach churning, and turned to Lochart. “Hello, Tom.”
“You all right, Mac?”
“Yes.” He added quietly, “We’ll have to play this cautiously for the next few minutes. Don’t know what the mullah’s up to. Have to wait and see what he does about Kia, don’t know whether Kia’s in the creek or not. Soon as we know we can move.” He dropped his voice even more. “I can’t avoid taking Kia - unless Hussain grabs him. I plan to take him part of the way, just over the hills out of VHF range, pretend an emergency, and land. When Kia’s out of the cockpit and cooling his heels, I’ll take off and skirt this area and meet you at the rendezvous.”
“Don’t like that idea, Mac. Better let me do it. You don’t know the place and those sand dunes are look-alikes for miles. I’d better take him.” “I’ve thought about that, but then I’d be flying one of the mecs without a license. I’d rather put Kia at risk than them. Besides, you might be tempted to keep on going back to Tehran. All the way. Eh?”
“Better that I drop him off and meet you at the rendezvous. Safer.”
McIver shook his head, feeling rotten about putting his friend into a corner. “You’d go on, wouldn’t you?”
After a strange pause, Lochart said, “While I was waiting for you, if I could’ve gotten airborne I’d’ve put him aboard and gone.” He smiled a twisted smile. “The airmen said no way, to wait. Better watch them, Mac, some of them speak English. What happened to you?”
“Hussain just questioned me about Kia - and Duke.”
Lochart stared at him. “Duke? What about?”
“Everything about him. When I asked Hussain why, all he’d say was: ‘Just because he interests me.’” McIver saw a tremor go through Lochart. “Mac, I think it’s best if I take Kia. You might miss the rendezvous - you can go in tandem with Freddy. I’ll get off first and wait for you.” “Sorry, Tom, can’t risk that - you’ll keep on going. If I were you I’d do the same and the hell with the risk. But I can’t let you go back. To go back now’d be a disaster. It’d be a disaster for you - I’m sure of that, Tom - as well as for the rest of us. That’s the truth.”
“Hell with the truth,” Lochart said bitterly. “All right, but by God, the moment we touch down at Kuwait, I’m on the month’s leave I’m owed, or resigned from S-G, whichever you want - from the very second.” “Fair enough but it has to be from Al Shargaz. We’ll have to refuel in Kuwait and get out of there as fast as we can - if we’re lucky enough to get there and if they’ll let us fly out.” “No. Kuwait’s the end of the line for me.” “Please yourself,” McIver said, hardening. “But I’ll make sure you don’t get a plane into Tehran, Abadan, or anywhere else in Iran.” “You’re a bastard,” Lochart said, sick that McIver had read his intentions so clearly. “Goddamn you to hell!”
“Yes, sorry. From Al Shargaz I’ll help all I c - ” McIver stopped, seeing Lochart mutter a curse. He turned around. Kia and Hussain were still conversing by the car. “What’s the matter?”
“In the tower.”
McIver looked up. Then he noticed Wazari, half-hidden by one of the boarded windows, beckoning them clearly. No way to pretend that they had not seen him. As they watched, Wazari beckoned them again and moved back into cover. “Goddamn him,” Lochart was saying. “I checked the tower just after you’d left to make sure he hadn’t slipped up there and he hadn’t so I thought he’d made a run for it.” His face flushed with rage. “Come to think of it, I didn’t go right up into the room so he could’ve hidden on the roof - the sonofabitch must’ve been there all the time.”
“Christalmighty! Maybe he found the broken wire.” McIver was rocked. Lochart’s face closed. “You stay here. If he tries to give us any trouble I’ll kill him.” He stalked off.
“Wait, I’ll come too. Freddy,” he called out, “we’ll be back in a moment.” As they passed Hussain and Kia, McIver said, “I’m just going to ask for clearance, Minister. Takeoff in five minutes?”
Before Kia could answer, the mullah said cryptically, “Insha’ Allah.” Kia said curtly to McIver, “Captain, you haven’t forgotten I told you I must be in Tehran for an important meeting at 7:00 P.M.? Good,” turned his back on them, again concentrating on Hussain. “You were saying, Excellency?” The two pilots went into the office, seething at Kia’s rudeness, bypassed Pavoud and the other staff, and headed for the tower staircase.
The tower was empty. Then they saw the door to the roof ajar and heard Wazari whisper, “Over here.” He was just outside, crouched by the wall. Wazari did not move. “I know what you’re up to. There’s no radio malfunction,” he said, hardly able to contain his excitement. “Four choppers have pushed off from Bandar Delam and vanished. Your managing director Siamaki’s screaming like a stuck pig because he can’t raise Lengeh, us, or Al Shargaz and Mr. Gavallan there - they’re just sitting tight, that’s it, isn’t it? Huh?”
“What’s that got to do with us?” Lochart said tautly.
“Everything, of course everything, because it all fits. Numir at Bandar Delam says all expats’ve gone, there’s no one left at Bandar. Siamaki says the same about Tehran, he even told Numir your houseboy, Captain McIver, your houseboy says most of your personal things and a Captain Pettikin’s’re out of the apartment.”
McIver shrugged and went to switch on the VHF. “Safety precautions while Pettikin’s on leave and I’m away. Been lots of robberies.” “Don’t make a call yet. Please. Listen, for crissake, listen, I’m begging you… there’s no way you can stop the truth. Your 212s and guys have gone from Bandar, Lengeh’s silent, so they’re the same, Tehran’s closed down, the same, there’s only here left and you’re all set.” Wazari’s voice was curious and they could not tell yet what was under it. “I’m not gonna give you away, I want to help you. I want to help. I swear I want to help you.” “Help us do what?”
“Get away.”
“Why should you do that, even if what you say’s true?” Lochart said angrily. “You were right not to trust me before, Captain, but I swear to God you can trust me now, I’m together now, earlier I wasn’t but now I am and you’re my only hope to get out. I’m up before the komiteh tomorrow and… and look at me, for crissake!” he burst out. “I’m a mess, and unless I can get to a proper doctor I’ll be a mess forever and maybe even a dead man - there’s something pressing here, hurts like hell,” Wazari touched the top of his mashed nose. “Since that bastard Zataki beat me my head’s been aching and I’ve been crazy, sure I have, I know it, but I can still help. I can cover you from here if you’ll take me with you, just let me sneak aboard the last chopper - I swear I’ll help.” Tears filled his eyes. The two men stared at him.
McIver clicked on the VHF sender. “Kowiss Tower, IHC testing, testing.” A long pause, then in heavily accented English, “This the tower, IHC, you five by five.”
“Thank you. We seem to have cleared the fault. Our 206 charter to Tehran will leave in ten minutes, also our morning flight to rigs Forty, Abu Sal, and Gordy with spares.”
“Okay. Report airborne. Your Bandar Delam is been try to contact you.” McIver felt the sweat start. “Thanks, Tower. Good day.” He looked at Lochart, then switched on the HF. At once they heard Janan’s voice in Farsi and Lochart began interpreting: “Janan’s saying the last sighting of their flight was northeast, inland from the coast… that Zataki…” For a moment his voice faltered, “… that Zataki had ordered the four choppers to service Iran-Toda and should be at Iran-Toda by now and is sure to call or send a message…” Then McIver recognized Siamaki. Lochart was sweating. “Siamaki’s saying he’ll be off the air for half an hour to an hour but he’ll call when he gets back and to keep trying to raise us and Al Shargaz… Janan says okay and he’ll wait out and if he has any news he’ll
