quantities of valuable Iranian spares have been whisked away. No mo - ”
“Reported by whom?”
“The IHC managing director, Siamaki. Even more serious, all IHC foreign personnel, pilots and mechanics and office staff, have vanished as well. Everyone, so of course it was a conspiracy. It seems that yesterday there were perhaps twenty of them all over Iran, last week forty, today none. There are no S-G, or more correctly IHC foreigners left in all Iran. Except Captain Yokkonen.”
At once the implication of Erikki’s importance leaped into Hakim’s mind and he cursed himself for allowing his face to give him away when Hashemi said blithely, “Ah, yes, of course you see it too! SAVAMA told me that even if the captain is innocent of complicity in the conspiracy, he’s the essential means to persuade the ringleaders and criminals, Gavallan and McIver - and certainly the British government which must have been party to the treason - to return our airplanes, our spares, to pay an indemnity of very serious proportions, to return to Iran and stand trial for crimes against Islam.” Hakim Khan shifted uneasily on his cushions, the pain in his back surfacing, and wanted to shout with rage because all the pain and anguish had been unnecessary, and now, hardly able to stand without pain, he might be permanently injured. Put that aside for later, he told himself grimly, and deal with this dangerous son of a dog who sits there patiently like an accomplished salesman of precious carpets who has laid out his wares and now waits for the negotiation to begin. If I want to buy.
To buy Erikki out of the trap I shall have to give this dog a personal pishkesh, of value to him not SAVAMA, God curse them by any name. What? Petr Oleg Mzytryk at least. I could pass him over to Hashemi without a belch, if he comes, when he comes. He’ll come. Yesterday Ahmed sent for him in my name - I wonder how Ahmed is, did his operation go well? I hope the fool doesn’t die; I could use his knowledge for a while more. Fool to be caught off guard, fool! Yes he’s a fool but this dog isn’t. With the gift of Mzytryk and more help in Azerbaijan, and a promise of future friendship, I can buy Erikki out of the trap. Why should I?
Because Azadeh loves him? Unfortunately she is sister to the Khan of all the Gorgons and this is a khan’s problem, not a brother’s problem. Erikki’s a hazard to me and to her. He’s a dangerous man with blood on his hands. The tribesmen, be they Kurds or not, will seek vengeance - probably. He’s always been a bad match though he brought her great joy, still brings her happiness - but no children - and now he cannot stay in Iran. Impossible. No way for him to stay. I couldn’t buy him two years of protection and Azadeh’s sworn by God to stay here at least two years - how cunning my father was to give me power over her. If I buy Erikki out of the trap she can’t go with him. In two years many estrangements could happen by themselves. But if he’s no good for her, why buy him out? Why not let them take Erikki to checkmate a treason? It’s treason to steal our property. “This is too serious a matter to answer at once,” he said. “There is nothing for you to answer, Highness. Only Captain Yokkonen. I understand he’s still here.”
“The doctor ordered him to rest.”
“Perhaps you would send for him, Highness.”
“Of course. But a man of your importance and learning would understand there are rules of honor and hospitality in Azerbaijan, and in my tribe. He is my brother-in-law and even SAVAMA understands family honor.” Both men knew this was just an opening gambit in a delicate negotiation - delicate because neither wanted SAVAMA’s wrath on their heads, neither knew yet how far to go, or even if a private deal was wanted. “I presume many know of this… this treason?”
“Only me, here in Tabriz, Highness. At the moment,” Hashemi said at once, conveniently forgetting Armstrong to whom he had suggested this phony telex this morning: “There’s no way that son of a dog, Hakim, can expose it as a hoax, Robert,” he had said, delighted with his own brilliance. “He’s got to barter. We barter the Finn for Mzytryk at no cost to ourselves. That bloodthirsty maniac Finn can fly off into the sunset when we get what we want - until then we bottle him up.”
“Say Hakim Khan won’t agree, won’t or can’t deliver Mzytryk?” “If he doesn’t want to barter, we seize Erikki anyway. Whirlwind’s bound to leak soon and I can use Erikki for all sorts of concessions - he’s hostage at least for $15 million worth of planes… or perhaps I barter him to the tribesmen as a peace offering… The fact that he’s a Finn helps. I could link him closely with Rakoczy and the KGB and cause the Soviets all sorts of mischief, equally the CIA, eh? Even MI6, eh?” “The CIA’ve never harmed you. Or MI6.” “Insha’Allah! Don’t interfere in this, Robert. Erikki and the Khan are an internal Iranian matter. On your own head, don’t interfere. With the Finn I can get important concessions.” But important only to me, Robert, not to SAVAMA, Hashemi had thought and smiled to himself. Tomorrow or the next day we will return to Tehran and then my assassin follows you into the night and then, poof, you’re blown out like a candle. “He’ll deliver him,” he had said calmly.
“If Hakim gives up Erikki, he’ll get hell and damnation and no peace from his beloved sister. I think she’d go to the stake for him.” “She may have to.”
Hashemi remembered the glow of joy he had felt and now it was even better. He could see Hakim Khan’s disquiet and was sure he had him trapped. “I’m sure you’ll understand, Highness, but I have to answer this telex quickly.” Hakim Khan decided on a partial offer. “Treason and conspiracy should not go unpunished. Anywhere it is to be found. I’ve sent for the traitor you wanted. Urgently.”
“Ah. How long will it take for Mzytryk to answer?” “You’d have a better idea of that than me. Wouldn’t you?”
Hashemi heard the flatness and cursed himself for making the slip. “I would be astonished if Your Highness wasn’t answered very quickly,” he said with great politeness. “Very quickly.” “When?”
“Within twenty-four hours, Highness. Personally or by messenger.” He saw the young Khan shift painfully and tried to decide whether to delay or to press home his advantage, sure the pain was genuine. The doctor had given him a detailed diagnosis of the Khan’s possible injuries and those of his sister. To cover every eventuality he had ordered the doctor to give Erikki some heavy sedation tonight, just in case the man tried to escape. “The twenty- four hours will be up at seven this evening, Colonel.” “There is so much to do in Tabriz, Highness, following your advice of this morning, that I doubt if I could deal with the telex before then.” “You destroy the leftist mujhadin headquarters tonight?”
“Yes, Highness,” now that we have your permission, and your guarantee of no repercussions from the Tudeh, Hashemi wanted to add but did not. Don’t be stupid! This young man’s not as three-faced as the dog Abdollah, may he burn in hell. This one’s easier to deal with - providing you have more cards than he has and are not afraid to show your fangs when needed. “It would be unfortunate if the captain was not available for… for questioning this evening.”
Hakim Khan’s eyes narrowed at the unnecessary threat. As if I didn’t understand, you rude son of a dog. “I agree.” There was a knock on the door. “Come in.”
Azadeh opened it. “Sorry to interrupt, Highness, but you told me to remind you half an hour before it was time to go to the hospital for X rays. Greetings, peace be with you, Colonel.”
“And God’s peace be with you, Highness.” I’m glad such beauty will be forced into chador soon, Hashemi was thinking. She’d tempt Satan, let alone the unwashed illiterate scum of Iran. He looked back at the Khan. “I should be going, Highness.”
“Please come back at seven, Colonel. If I’ve any news before then I’ll send for you.”
“Thank you, Highness.”
She closed the door after him. “How’re you feeling, Hakim, darling?” “Tired. Lots of pain.”
“Me too. Do you have to see the colonel later?”
“Yes. It doesn’t matter. How’s Erikki?”
“Asleep.” She was joyous. “We’re so lucky, the three of us.” * IN TABRIZ CITY: 4:06 P.M. Robert Armstrong checked the action of the small automatic, his face grim. “What’re you going to do?” Henley asked, not liking the gun at all. He was also English, but much smaller, with a wispy mustache, and he wore glasses and sat behind the desk in the untidy, grubby office, under a picture of Queen Elizabeth.
“Best you don’t ask that. But don’t worry, I’m a copper, remember? This’s just in case some villain tries to do me. Can you get the message to Yokkonen?”
“I can’t go to the palace uninvited, what the hell’d be my excuse?” Henley’s eyebrows soared. “Do I say to Hakim Khan, ‘Terribly sorry, old boy, but I want to speak to your brother-in-law about getting a chum out of Iran by private helicopter.’” His banter vanished. “You’re quite wrong about the colonel, Robert. There’s no proof whatsoever the colonel’s responsible for Talbot.”
“If you had you wouldn’t admit it,” Armstrong said, angry with himself for exploding when Henley had told him about the “accident.” Again his voice rasped. “Why the devil did you wait till today to tell me Talbot was blown
