The Persian Price (19 page)

So why had the Syrian contacted Logan Field? And why was the Syrian visiting an American amateur archaeologist, whose telephone number was in the pocket of a murdered man? A humble man, a talker round the coffee shops, but a friend of dissidents, and by coincidence hovering round Logan Field at that reception for the Minister. If it were coincidence …

What had begun as a puzzle without pieces was taking on a shape. One thing was certain. Whatever the reason motivating the Syrian government in anything they undertook, it was never in the best interests of Iran. If they had contacted Logan Field, it must be for a purpose that was injurious to the Shah and the country in some way.

Ardalan sent for his assistant Sabet. He offered him a cigarette and showed him the two reports. When he had finished reading them, he asked the assistant his opinion. Sabet hesitated. He didn't want to make a mistake. The Colonel wouldn't forget a hasty or ill-considered view.

‘I think,' he said, ‘that Logan Field is being pressured by Homsi. Whether this is personal or through the oil company, I don't know.'

Ardalan nodded. ‘I think so too. But it's unlikely to be personal blackmail. Homsi is acting for his government. If he is putting pressure upon Logan Field, then Syrian policy is guiding him. We have to know why, in case it concerns us.'

‘And you think it does?'

‘Yes,' Ardalan nodded again, ‘yes, I do. Homsi is involved with an American who is also somehow connected with that waiter at the Hilton who was murdered. The American worried me as much as Homsi. We've had him checked by Interpol. Nobody knows anything about him. He came through Munich at a time when there was a terrorist conference taking place there. There is no proof that he was connected with it in any way. He stayed at a hotel, went sight-seeing, left for Tehran and went to work at Persepolis from time to time.'

He paused and looked at Sabet, his eyes narrowed.

‘But I know he was in Munich for that conference. I feel it here.' Ardalan tapped his chest above the heart. ‘I can't say this, because it is only my instinct that tells me. I cannot say what I would like to say. Not yet. I have to add more pieces to my puzzle so that it makes some kind of picture. I have to be patient for a little longer and hope that something more comes to hand. Another little piece here and there. Just enough.'

He got up from his desk and Sabet did the same. The Colonel might treat his staff with informality but he didn't expect it to be returned.

‘You can't go to His Majesty, then?' Sabet said.

‘No, I cannot go to His Majesty with nothing but this.' He pointed to the reports. ‘There is not enough there to justify the action I want to take. We will have to wait and watch a little longer. I am sure that my friend Mr Kelly knows exactly what is happening. But he will protect his chairman and the oil company. He will lie as he lied last night. However, I might talk to him.' He stretched and yawned. ‘There is a reception at the French Embassy on Saturday. I will see him there.'

Janet sat on the arm of Logan's chair; her hand rested on his shoulder.

‘My God,' she said, ‘what are we going to do? It's like a nightmare.'

‘I don't know.'

He passed his hand over his head, sweeping the hair backwards. He felt comforted by having her with him. She had taken the news calmly; he couldn't have borne an hysterical reaction. She had listened, sitting with her arm around him, got up and refilled the glass with whisky and waited until he had told her everything.

‘There is no doubt about it?' That was her first question. ‘They have got her?'

‘No doubt at all. I'll have to meet their terms. There's no other way. Do you know, I haven't been sick for years …'

‘I'm not surprised,' Janet said gently. She leaned down and kissed him. ‘You've had a terrible shock. It'll take a little time to get over it. Drink your whisky.'

He had never associated her with tenderness; she wasn't a woman who wasted words or gestures. As a personality she had a diamond brightness; he didn't realize how much she had attracted him simply because she was the opposite of Eileen.

‘I've got to work out what to do next,' he said. ‘How to explain it to the Board. Christ, I
can't
explain it! It's all got to be done secretly.' He looked up at her. ‘How do I pull my company out of Iran without a reason? Ten million spent on exploration. Six bloody months of work and negotiation. A deal coming to the boil in Tokyo. A major breakthrough in oil prices! I'm responsible to my Board – and to the shareholders. Leave aside the wider issues!'

‘You can refuse to meet Khorvan's terms,' she reminded him. ‘Without Japan you couldn't go ahead with Imshan anyway.'

‘And let the bastard win,' Logan said. ‘Let him pull the rug from under us.'

‘I know you don't want to give in,' Janet said. She got up and took a drink for herself. She turned round and looked at him. ‘At the moment you don't see any alternative. If you don't do what these people say, they're going to cut off Eileen's fingers and send them to you, one by one. That's the real threat, isn't it?'

‘Yes,' Logan said. His head lowered for a moment. ‘Yes. That finished me.'

‘It would finish me too,' she said quietly, ‘except that I don't believe they'd ever do it.'

The room was very quiet, except for the faint buzz of the air conditioning. Logan looked at her. She was very pale and the tinted silver hair emphasized this; she sipped her whisky.

‘The people who've kidnapped Eileen don't go in for that kind of thing,' she said. ‘They're fanatics; they're absolutely ruthless and they don't mind getting themselves killed. I won't argue for a moment that if you refuse to do what they want, they'll murder Eileen. But I don't believe they've ever mutilated any victim or ever will. Keeping the West out of the Imshan oil-fields is a massive political stratagem, master-minded from the top. This isn't some crackpot revolutionary movement leading a raid on a kibbutz. This is the Arab world, backed by the Russians. They can't afford to do anything like that to Eileen because of world opinion. Think, if an atrocity like that was known … It's a bluff, darling. Make up your mind what you're going to do, but don't take that into consideration. Homsi just said it to frighten you.' She went and sat down.

‘What are you advising me?' He asked the question slowly. She was being practical and thinking clearly. He should have expected her to take an impersonal view.

‘I wouldn't dare advise you,' she answered. ‘How could I? If I tell you to be tough, I might be thinking of myself. You'd never forgive me for it. I know that.'

He didn't deny it. He waited. Perhaps she sensed that everything between them was in the balance at that moment.

‘So? What are you saying then?'

‘Don't be angry with me,' Janet said. ‘I'm trying to help you.'

To his amazement she turned to one side and began to cry. He came over to her.

‘It's so horrible,' she said. ‘So dreadful for you, facing this …'

‘I've got to give him an answer tomorrow,' Logan said. ‘It'll have to be yes. It'll give me time to think it through.'

He got up and brought back two cigarettes for them. He leaned forward, smoking. He had never seen Janet cry; it relieved him. At that moment he felt able to discuss his wife without excessive guilt.

‘You wouldn't risk going to the police – Interpol? Surely they could start looking for her without the story leaking?'

‘I suggested that to James,' Logan answered. ‘He said it was too dangerous. He said I'd have to play it straight across the board with them, if I wanted her released. You know he's in love with her?'

‘Then you must bear that in mind when he gives you advice,' she said. ‘He'll only be thinking of Eileen; not you or the company. Darling, there's one awful possibility I think you've got to face, before you do anything drastic.'

‘That something's already happened to her?'

‘No,' Janet shook her head. ‘No, I'm sure she's alive now. And probably quite well cared for. What I'm afraid of is that if you give in to them and back out of Imshan, they won't keep their part of the bargain. They'll have got what they wanted and there won't be any witness to stand up and say what happened. Or to identify them. That's what really frightens me.' She leaned towards him. ‘I'd do anything to help Eileen,' she said, ‘but I just don't see how they can ever let her go.'

‘What you're saying,' Logan muttered, ‘is that I could throw Imshan away for nothing – that I could play into the hands of Arab extremism by sabotaging Europe's interests, betray my own company, and incidentally finish my career, and Eileen is murdered anyway. Is that what you really think?'

‘Yes,' she said, ‘I'm afraid it is. I'm afraid she's a lost cause, Logan. It's the most horrible thing I've ever had to say in my life, but I don't believe you'll ever see her again.'

The telephone rang. She got up to answer it.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘Hello, James – yes, he's here.' She covered the mouthpiece. ‘He wants to talk to you,' she said.

‘Tell him to come up,' Logan said. ‘He'd better know the position. He's got to deal with Homsi while I'm in Japan.'

She held on to the telephone.

‘You're still going then?'

‘Yes,' Logan said.

She spoke to James Kelly.

‘Come to the hotel,' she said. ‘Logan wants to see you.' Then she said, ‘What are you going to tell him?'

‘The truth,' Logan answered. ‘That Imshan is the price. And he's to hold them off while I'm away. This can't be a snap decision. There's too much at stake. Apart from Eileen.'

‘You're going to be nice to me,' Resnais whispered. ‘Like you are to the American.'

The woman underneath him was so terrified that he misjudged her. He took his hand off her mouth and ripped the flimsy petticoat away.

Madeleine had come to meet Peters as he got out of the car. He had been irritated but suppressed it. He saw her looking at the box with the boutique label on it, but she didn't comment. She put her hand on his arm to detain him and he decided not to shake her off. He had promised to be fair.

‘Don't be angry with me,' she said. ‘I'm sorry about last night. And today. I don't want to quarrel with you. Come to our room. Let me make it up to you.'

They had walked inside the house; it was cool and white after the outside glare.

‘We've got to talk,' Peters said. ‘Where's Resnais?'

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘Sleeping in the shade somewhere …'

The scream was faint but very clear. It rose for a few seconds, sharp with pure terror, and then stopped. Peters flung the girl aside and leapt up the stairs. One push established that Eileen's door was locked. He stepped back and threw his full weight against it. The lock burst. He saw Resnais getting up from the bed and he reached him before the Frenchman was fully on his feet. Peters grabbed him with the left hand, the right smashed sideways into his face. Resnais fell backwards, hitting a chair, which shattered under him as he collapsed on the floor. Peters pulled him upright; his mouth was split and pouring blood. He hit him again. Then he dragged him to the door and threw him into the passage. He shouted for Madeleine. She came running up the stairs. He saw the terror on her face and knew that she had been a party to the rape. She cringed physically as he came near her.

‘Get him downstairs before I kill him,' Peters said. Then he kicked the broken door shut and went over to the bed.

No one had ever hurt Eileen; she had no experience of violence. It was unthinkable that a man should have held her down and inflicted agonizing pain on her. She had been stripped, assaulted. If Peters hadn't burst into the room, the Frenchman would have raped her. The shock was tremendous. Her vision swam as Peters bent over her. She was shivering violently and she reacted from pure instinct. She caught him round the neck and held on to him with all her strength, weeping hysterically. He lifted her and carried her into the room he used for himself. He put her into the bed and sat down, waiting for the fit of hysteria to wear itself out. He could feel the trembling in her body.

‘Easy now,' he said, ‘it's all over.'

‘Oh, God,' Eileen whispered, ‘don't leave me … please … don't leave me …'

‘I won't,' Peters said. ‘Tell me what happened.'

‘I was asleep,' she said. ‘I woke up and he was sitting on the bed. He had his hand over my mouth. He asked me if you were sleeping with me.'

She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them wide as if she were seeing Resnais and not him.

‘I wouldn't say yes,' she whispered. ‘He wanted me to; he hurt me. He went on and on hurting me … on my breasts. I couldn't scream …'

Peters pulled down the bed sheet. She had small breasts, beautifully shaped. They were beginning to purple with bruises. The pain must have been agonizing.

‘I didn't say it,' Eileen said. ‘I wouldn't. Then he said if I told you he'd kill me. He was going to rape me …'

‘Did Madeleine come with him?' Peters asked the question. ‘Or Ahmed?'

She shook her head.

‘No. Just him. I can't stop shaking.'

‘You'll be all right now,' he said.

She looked very pale. She was badly shocked and the rigor that was part of it was making the bed shake. Resnais had tortured her to implicate him. He could imagine what he had done to her breasts while he held her mouth closed. He drew the sheet up and covered them.

‘Why didn't you say what he wanted?'

‘Because it wasn't true. We haven't.'

‘No,' he said. ‘We haven't. I'm going to get you a brandy and put some ice on your breasts. That'll help the pain.'