and fresh bread for you. What else would you like?”
“Just to be let go, my husband and I.”
“So?” He came into the room and closed the door and took the chair and sat down, his back to the sunlight that streamed in from the window. “With your cooperation that might be arranged.”
When he had moved into the room, without being obvious she had retreated and now sat on the edge of the bed, her hand within inches of the pillow. “What cooperation, Major Effendi?”
“It might be wise not to have a confrontation,” he said curiously. “If you cooperate… and go back to Tabriz of your own free will this evening, your husband will remain in custody tonight and be sent to Istanbul tomorrow.” She heard herself say, “Sent where in Istanbul?”
“First to prison - for safekeeping - where his ambassador will be able to see him and, if it’s God’s will, to be released.”
“Why should he be sent to prison, he’s done noth - ”
“There’s a reward on his head. Dead or alive.” The major smiled thinly. “He needs protection - there are dozens of your nationals in the village and near here, all on the edge of starvation. Don’t you need protection too? Wouldn’t you be a perfect kidnap victim, wouldn’t the Khan ransom his only sister at once and lavishly? Eh?”
“Gladly I’ll go back if that will help my husband,” she said at once. “But if I go back, what… what guarantee do I have that my husband will be protected and be sent to Istanbul, Major Effendi?”
“None.” He got up and stood over her. “The alternate is if you don’t cooperate of your own free will, you’ll be sent to the border today and he… he will have to take his chances.”
She did not get up, nor take her hand away from the pillow. Nor look up at him. I’d do that gladly but once I’m gone Erikki’s defenseless. Cooperate? Does that mean bed this man of my own free will? “How must I cooperate? What do you want me to do?” she asked and was furious that her voice seemed smaller than before.
He half laughed and said sardonically, ‘To do what all women have difficulty in doing: to be obedient, to do what they’re told without argument, and to stop trying to be clever.” He turned on his heel. “You will stay here in the hotel. I will return later. I hope by then you’ll be prepared… to give me the correct answer.” He shut the door after him.
If he tries to force me, I will kill him, she thought. I cannot bed him as a barter - my husband would never forgive me, nor could I forgive myself, for we both know the act would not guarantee his freedom or mine, and even if it did he could not live with the knowledge and would seek revenge. Nor could I live with myself.
She got up and went to the window and looked out at the busy village, snow-covered mountains around it, the border over there, such a little way. “The only chance Erikki has is for me to go back,” she muttered. “But I can’t, not without the major’s approval. And even then…”
AT THE POLICE STATION: 11:58 A.M. Gripped by Erikki’s great fists, the lower end of the central iron bar in the window came free with a small shower of cement. Hastily he pushed it back into its hole, looked out of the cage door and down the corridor. No jailer appeared. Quickly he stuffed small pieces of cement and nibble back around the base camouflaging it - he had been working on this bar most of the night, worrying it as a dog would a bone. Now he had a weapon and a lever to bend the other bars out of shape. It’ll take me half an hour, no more, he thought, and sat back on his bunk, satisfied. After bringing the food last evening, the police had left him alone, confident in the strength of their cage. This morning they had brought him coffee that had tasted vile and a hunk of rough bread and had stared at him without understanding when he asked for the major and for his wife. He did not know the Turkish for “major” nor the officer’s name, but when he pointed at his lapel, miming the man’s rank, they had understood him and had just shrugged, spoken more Turkish that he did not understand, and gone away again. The sergeant had not reappeared.
Each of us knows what to do, he thought, Azadeh and I, each of us is at risk, each will do the best we can. But if she’s touched, or hurt, no god will help him who touched her while I live. I swear it.
The door at the end of the corridor opened. The major strode toward him. “Good morning,” he said, his nostrils crinkling at the foul smell. “Good morning, Major. Where’s my wife, please, and when are you letting us go?”
“Your wife is in the village, quite safe, rested. I’ve seen her myself.” The major eyed him thoughtfully, noticed the dirt on his hands, glanced keenly at the lock on the cage, the window bars, the floor, and the ceiling. “Her safety and treatment are dependent on you. You do understand?” “Yes, yes, I do understand. And I hold you as the senior policeman here responsible for her.”
The major laughed. “Good,” he said sardonically, then the smile vanished. “It seems best to avoid a confrontation. If you cooperate you will stay here tonight, tomorrow I’ll send you under guard to Istanbul - where your ambassador can see you if he wants - to stand trial for the crimes you’re accused of, or to be extradited.”
Erikki dismissed his own problems. “I brought my wife here against her will. She’s done nothing wrong, she should go home. Can she be escorted?” The major watched him. “That depends on your cooperation.” “I will ask her to go back. I’ll insist, if that’s what you mean.”
“She could be sent back,” the major said, taunting him. “Oh, yes. But of course it’s possible that on the way to the border or even from the hotel, she could be ‘kidnapped’ again, this time by bandits, Iranian bandits, bad ones, to be held in the mountains for a month or two, eventually to be ransomed to the Khan.” Erikki was ashen. “What do you want me to do?” “Not far away is the railway. Tonight you could be smuggled out of here and taken safely to Istanbul. The charges against you could be quashed. You could be given a good job, flying, training our fliers - for two years. In return you agree to become a secret agent for us, you supply us with information about Azerbaijan, particularly about this Soviet you mentioned, Mzytryk, information about Hakim Khan, where and how he lives, how to get into the palace - and anything else that is wanted.” “What about my wife?” “She stays in Van of her own free will, hostage to your behavior… for a month or two. Then she can join you, wherever you are.”
“Provided she’s escorted back to Hakim Khan today, safely, unharmed and it’s proved to me she’s safe and unharmed, I will do what you ask.” “Either you agree or you don’t,” the major said impatiently. “I’m not here to bargain with you!”
“Please, she’s nothing to do with any crimes of mine. Please let her go. Please.”
“You think we’re fools? Do you agree or don’t you?” “Yes! But first I want her safe. First!” “Perhaps first you’d like to watch her spoiled. First.” Erikki lunged for him through the bars and the whole cage door shuddered under the impact. But the major stood there just out of range and laughed at the great hand clawing for him impotently. He had judged the distance accurately, far too practiced to be caught unawares, far too experienced an investigator not to know how to taunt and threaten and tempt, how to jeer and exaggerate and use the prisoner’s own fears and terrors, how to twist truths to break through the curtain of inevitable lies and half-truths - to get at the real truth.
His superiors had left it up to him to decide what to do about both of them. Now he had decided. Without hurrying he pulled out his revolver and pointed it at Erikki’s face. And cocked the pistol. Erikki did not back off, just held the bars with his huge hands, his breath coming in great pants. “Good,” the major said calmly, holstering the gun. “You have been warned your behavior gauges her treatment.” He walked away. When Erikki was alone again, he tried to tear the cage door off its hinges. The door groaned but held firm.
AL SHARGAZ INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT: 4:39 P.M.
From the driver’s seat of his car Gavallan watched the loading hatch of a 747 freighter close on half the 212s, crates of spares and rotors. Pilots and mechanics were feverishly loading the second jumbo, just one more 212 carcass to get aboard, a dozen crates and piles of suitcases. “We’re on schedule, Andy,” Rudi, the loading master, said, pretending not to notice his friend’s pallor. “Half an hour.”
“Good.” Gavallan handed him some papers. “Here are clearances for all mechanics to go with her.”
“No pilots?”
“No. All pilots’re on the BA flight. But make sure they’re in Immigration by six-ten. BA can’t hold the flight. Make sure everyone’s there, Rudi. They’ve got to be on that flight - I guaranteed it.”
“Don’t worry. What about Duke and Manuela?”
“They’ve already gone. Doc Nutt went with them, so they’re launched. I… that’s about all.” Gavallan was finding it hard to think. “You and Scrag’re still on the six-thirty-five to Bahrain?” “Yes. JeanLuc‘11 meet us. We’re taking Kasigi to set up his op and get ready for his Iran-Toda birds. I’ll see you all off.”
“See you in Aberdeen.” Rudi shook his hand firmly and rushed away, Gavallan let in the clutch, ground the gears and cursed, then went back to the office.
