Jesus wept!”
“That’s why I agreed to try. Have to. I’m equally trapped. We’re both trapped. But there’s more.” McIver told him about the money. Lochart gasped. “12 million rials, cash? Or the equivalent in Switzerland?” “Keep your voice down. Yes, 12 for me, and another 12 for the pilot. Last night he said his offer still stands and not to be ‘naive.’” McIver added grimly, “If Gen hadn’t been here, I’d’ve thrown him out.” Lochart was hardly listening. 12 million rials or cash elsewhere? Mac’s right. If Valik offered that here in Tehran what would he really pay when he’s in sight of the border? “Christ!”
McIver watched him. “What do you think, Tom? Do you still want to go.” “I can’t refuse. I can’t. Not now we’ve got the clearance.” It was on the kitchen table and he picked it up. It read: “EP-HBC cleared to Bandar Delam. Priority flight for urgent spares. Refuel at IIAF Base Isfahan. One crew: Captain Lane.” Lane had been crossed out, and marked, “Sick. Substitute pilot - - - ,” then a blank and it was not yet countersigned by McIver. McIver glanced at the kitchen door that was closed, then back to Lochart. “Valik wants to be picked up outside of Tehran, privately.” “This gets smellier and smellier. Where’s the pickup point?” “If you get to Bandar Delam, Tom, and that’s not even probable, he’ll pressure you to take them on to Kuwait.”
“Of course.” Lochart stared back at McIver.
“He’ll use any pressure, family, Sharazad, the lot. Particularly money.” “Millions. In cash - which we both know I can use.” Lochart’s voice was level. “But if I fly on to Kuwait without Iranian clearance, in an Iranian registered chopper, without Iranian or company approval, with unauthorized Iranian passengers trying to escape their still legal government, I’m a hijacker, subject to God knows how many criminal charges here and in Kuwait - the Kuwait authorities’d impound the chopper, shove me in jail, and certainly extradite me to Iran. In any event I’d’ve blown my future as a pilot and could never come back to Iran and Sharazad - SAVAK might even grab her so I’m not about to do that.”
“Valik’s a dangerous sod. He’ll come armed. He could put a gun to your head and force you to go on.”
“That’s possible.” Lochart’s voice stayed but his insides were churning. “I have no option. I’ve got to help him, and I will - but I’m not goddamn stupid.” After a pause, he added, “Does Nogger know about this?” “No.” In the watches of the night, after weighing possible plans, McIver had decided to go himself and not risk Nogger Lane or Lochart. The hell with the medical and that I’d be illegal, he had told himself - the whole flight’s mad so a little extra madness won’t hurt.
His plan was simple: after talking it out with Tom Lochart he would just say he had decided not to authorize the flight and would not countersign the clearance, that he would drive to the pickup point with enough gasoline for Valik to make the journey by road. Even if Lochart wanted to come with him, it would be easy to fix a rendezvous, then never go to it but just drive to Galeg Morghi, put his own name on the clearance as pilot and take off. At the pickup point…
“What?” he asked.
“There are only three possibilities,” Lochart said again. “You refuse to authorize the flight, you authorize me or you authorize someone else. You’ve canceled Nogger, Charlie’s not here, so that leaves you or me. You can’t go, Mac. You just can’t, it’s too dangerous.”
“Of course I wouldn’t go, my license h - ”
“You can’t go, Mac,” Lochart said firmly. “Sorry. You just can’t.” McIver sighed, his wisdom overcame his obsession to fly and he decided on his second plan. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. I agree. So listen carefully: if you want to do it, that’s up to you, I’m not ordering it. I will authorize you if you want but there are conditions. If you get to the pickup point and it seems clean, pick them up. Then go on to Isfahan. Valik said he’d fix that. If Isfahan’s okay, go on. Maybe Mr. Fixit Iran can do just that, all the way. That’s what we’d have to gamble on.”
“That’s what I’m gambling on.”
“Bandar Delam’s the end of the line. You don’t go over the border. Agreed?” McIver put out his hand.
“Agreed,” Lochart said, shaking hands with a prayer that he could keep his promise.
McIver told him the pickup point, signed the clearance, and noticed his hands were trembling. If anything goes wrong, guess who SAVAK‘11 come after? Both of us. And even maybe Gen, McIver thought, again filled with dread. He did not tell Lochart that she had overheard Valik last night and figured out the rest. “But I agree, Duncan,” she had said gravely. “It’s terribly risky but you’ve got to try to help them, Tom too, he’s equally trapped. There isn’t any option.” McIver handed Lochart the clearance. “Tom, you’re specifically ordered not to go over the border. If you do, I think you really will lose everything, including Sharazad.”
“This whole scheme’s crackpot, but, there you are.”
“Yes. Good luck.”
Lochart nodded, smiled back at him, and left.
McIver closed the front door. I hope that’s the right decision, he thought, his head aching. Madness to go myself, and yet… I wish I was going and not him. I wish …
“Oh,” he said, startled. Genny was standing by the kitchen door, a warm robe over her nightdress. She was not wearing her glasses and she peered at him. “I’m… I’m awfully glad you didn’t go, Duncan,” she said in a tiny voice. “What?”
“Oh, come on, silly, I know you too well. You hardly slept a wink trying to decide - nor did I, worrying about it for you. I know if I’d been you I’d’ve gone, or wanted to go. But, Duncan, Tom’s strong and he’ll be all right and I do so hope he takes Sharazad and never comes back…” The tears began running down her cheeks. “I’m ever so glad you didn’t go.” She brushed the tears away and went to the stove and put on the kettle. “Damn, sorry, I really do get into a tizzy sometimes. Sorry.”
He put his arms around her. “Gen, if the 125 comes today, will you get on it? Please.”
“Certainly, dear. If you get on it too.”
“But Gen. You must.”
“Duncan, listen a moment, please.” She turned and put her arms around him and rested her head against his chest and continued in the same small voice that troubled him greatly, “Three of your partners have already fled with their families and all the money they can, the Shah and his family’ve gone with all their money, thousands of others, most of the people we know’ve gone, you said so yourself and now if even the great General Valik’s running away, even with all his contacts and they’ve got to be on both sides of the fence, and … and if even the Immortals haven’t squashed the little rebellion at Doshan Tappeh of a few air force cadets and badly armed civilians - practically on their home ground - it’s time we should close down and leave.”
“We can’t, Gen,” he burst out, and she could hear his heart in his chest and her concern for him increased. “That’d be a disaster.”
“It’d only be for a short time, until things get better.” “If I scuttled Iran it’d ruin S-G.”
“I don’t know about that, Duncan, but surely the decision’s up to Andy, not you - he sent us here.”
“Yes, but he’d ask me what I thought and I couldn’t recommend quitting and leaving $20-to $30-odd million worth of choppers and spares behind - in this mess they wouldn’t last a week, they’d be looted or damaged, we’d lose everything, everything - don’t forget, Gen, all our retirement money’s tied up in S-G, everything.”
“But, Duncan, don’t you think th - ”
“I won’t leave our choppers and spares.” McIver felt flushed and in momentary panic at the thought. “I just can’t.”
“Then take them with you.”
“For God’s sake, we can’t get ‘em out, we can’t get the clearances, can’t get off Iranian registry - we can’t - we’re stuck here until the war’s over.”
“We’re not. Duncan, not you or me or our lads, you’ve got to think of them too. We have to get out. They’ll throw us out anyway, whoever wins, most of all Khomeini.” A tremor went through her as she thought of his first speech at the cemetery: “I pray God to cut off the hands of all foreigners …”
Chapter 16
AT TABRIZ ONE: 9:30 A.M. The red Range Rover came out of the gates of the Khan’s palace and headed down the rise toward Tabriz and the road for Tehran. Erikki was driving, Azadeh beside him. It had been her cousin, Colonel Mazardi, the chief of police, who had persuaded Erikki not to drive to Tehran on Friday: “The road would be highly dangerous - it’s bad enough during the day,” he said. “The insurgents won’t return now, you’re quite safe. Much better to go and see His Highness the Khan and ask his advice. That would be much wiser.”
Azadeh had agreed. “Erikki, of course we will do whatever you want but I would really feel happier if we went home for the night and saw Father.” “My cousin’s right, Captain; of course you may do as you wish, but I swear by
