"back in a second, charlie." mciver followed her into the hotel lobby and went straight for the toilet. there he was very sick. it took him some time to recover. when he came out she was getting off the phone.
"sandwiches any second, your drink's poured, and i've booked you a call to andy." she led the lay out to a table on the sumptuous bar terrace. three ice-cold perriers with sliced lemon, and a double tot of whisky straight, no ice, just the way he liked it. he downed the first perrier without stopping. "my god, i needed that..." he eyed the whisky but did not touch it. thoughtfully he sipped the second glass of perrier, and watched her. when it was half gone he said, "gee, i think i'd like you to come along."
she was startled. then she said, "thank you, duncan. i'd like that. yes, yes, i would."
the lines in his face crinkled. "you'd've come anyway. wouldn't you?"
she gave a little shrug. her eyes dropped to the whisky. "you're not flying, duncan. the whisky would be good for you. it would settle the sum."
"you noticed, eh?"
"only that you're very tired. more tired than i've ever seen you, but you've done wonderfully, you've done a smashing job, and you should rest. you've... you've been taking your pills and all that rubbish?"
"oh, yes, though i'll need a refill soon. no problem, but i felt pretty bloody a couple of times." at her sudden anxiety, "i'm fine now, gen. fine."
she knew better than to probe. now that she was invited she could relax a little. since he had landed she had been watching him very carefully, her concern growing. with the sandwiches she had ordered some aspirins, she had codeinelaced veganin in her bag and the secret survival kit dr. nutt had given her. "what was it like flying again? really?"
"from tehran down to kowiss was grand, the rest not so good. this last leg wasn't good at all." the thought of being hunted by the fighters and so near to disaster so many times made him feel bilious again. don't think about that, he ordered himself, that's over. whirlwind's almost over, erikki and azadeh're safe, but what about dubois and fowler, what the hell's happened to them? and tom? i could bloody strangle tom, poor bugger.
"you all right, duncan?"
"oh, yes, i'm fine. just tired it's been quite a couple of weeks."
"what about tom? what'll you tell andy?"
"i was just thinking about him. i'll have to tell andy."
"that's one hell of a spanner in whirlwind, isn't it?"
"he's... he's on his own, gen. maybe he can get sharazad and sneak out again. if he's caught... we'll have to wait and see and hope," he said. but he was thinking when he's caught. mciver reached over and touched her, glad to be with her, not wanting to worry her more than she was now. tough on her, all this. i think i'm going to die.
"please excuse me, sahib, memsahib, your order's been taken out to the helicopter," the waiter said.
mciver handed him a credit card and the waiter left. "which reminds me, what about your hotel bill, and charlie's? we'll have to take care of them before we leave."
"oh, i phoned mr. hughes while you were in the loo," she said, "and asked him if he'd take care of our bills and ship our bags and everything if i didn't call back in an hour. i've my handbag, passport, and... what're you smiling about?"
"nothing... nothing, gen."
"it was just in case you asked me. i thought..." she watched the bubbles in her glass. again the tiny shrug and she looked up and smiled so happily. "i'm ever so glad you asked me, duncan. thank you."
al shargaz~on the outskirts of the city: 6:01 p.m. gavallan got out of his car and walked briskly up the steps toward the front door of the moroccan-style villa that was enclosed by high walls.
"mr. gavallan!"
"oh, hello, mrs. newbury!" he changed direction to join the woman who was half hidden, kneeling down, planting some seedlings near the driveway. "your garden looks wonderful."
"thank you. it's such fun and keeps me fit," she said. angela newbury was tall and in her thirties, her accent patrician. "roger's in the gazebo and expecting you." with the back of her gloved hand she wiped the perspiration off her forehead and left a smudge in its wake. "how's it going?"
"great," he told her, omitting the news about lochart. "nine out of ten so far."
"oh, super, oh, that is a relief. congratulations, we've all been so concerned. wonderful, but for god's sake don't tell roger i asked, he'd have a fit. nobody's supposed to know!"
he returned her smile and walked around the side of the house through the lovely gardens. the gazebo was in a clump of trees and flower beds, with chairs, side tables, portable bar and phone. his joy faded, seeing the look on roger newbury's face. "what's up?"
"you're what's up. whirlwind's what's up. i made it perfectly clear that it was ill advised. how's it going?"
"i've just heard our kowiss two are safe in kuwait and cleared on to bahrain with no trouble, so that makes nine out of ten, if we include erikki's one in tabriz, dubois and fowler're still not accounted for but we're hoping. now what's the problem, roger?"
"there's hell to pay all over the gulf with tehran screaming bloody murder and all our of rices on alert. my fearless leader and yours truly, roger newbury esquire, are cordially invited at seven-thirty to explain to the illustrious foreign minister why there's a sudden influx of helicopters here, albeit british registered, and how long they intend to stay." newbury, a short lean man with sandy hair and blue eyes and prominent nose, was clearly very irritated. "glad about the nine out of ten, would you like a drink?"
"thanks. a light scotch and soda."
newbury went to fix it. "my fearless leader and i would be delighted to know what you suggest we say."
gavallan thought a moment. "the choppers are out the moment we can get them aboard the freighters."
"when's that?" newbury gave him the drink.
"thanks. the freighters're promised by 6:00 rm. sunday. we'll work all night and have them off monday morning."
newbury was shocked. "can't you get them out before that?"
"the freighters were ordered for tomorrow but i was let down. why?"
"because, old boy, a few minutes ago we had a friendly, very serious highlevel leak that so long as the choppers weren't here by sunset tomorrow they might not be impounded."
now gavallan was also shocked. "that's not possible can't be done."
"i'm suggesting that you'd be wise to make it possible. fly them out to oman or dubai or wherever."
"if we do that... if we do that we'll be deeper in the mire."
"i don't think you can get any deeper, old boy. the way the leak put it was after sunset tomorrow you'll be in over your eyeballs." newbury toyed with his drink, a lemon presse. blast all this, he was thinking. while we're obliged to help our important trading interests salvage what they can from the iran catastrophe we've got to remember the long term as well as the short. we can't put her majesty's government at risk. apart from that, my weekend's ruined, i should be having a nice tall vodka gimlet with angela and here i am, sipping slop. "you'll have to move them."
"can you get us a forty-eight-hour reprieve, explain that the freighters are chartered but it's got to be sunday?"
"wouldn't dare suggest it, andy. that would admit culpability."
"could you get us a forty-eight-hour transit permit to oman?"
newbury grimaced. "i'll ask himself but we couldn't feel them out until tomorrow, too late now, and my immediate reaction's that the request would correctly be turned down. iran has a considerable goodwill presence there; after all they really did help put down yemen-backed communist insurgents. i doubt that they'd agree to offend a very good friend however much the present fundamentalist line might displease them."
gavallan felt sick. "i'd better see if i can bring my freighters forward or get alternates i'd say i've one chance in fifty." he finished his drink and got up. "sorry about all this."
newbury got up too. "sorry i can't be more helpful," he said, genuinely sorry. "keep me posted and i'll do the same."
"of course. you said you might be able to get a message to captain yokkonen in tabriz?"
"i'll certainly try. what is it?"
"just from me that he shoulder, should leave as soon as possible, by the shortest route. please sign it ghplx gavallan."
without comment newbury wrote it down. "ghplx?"
"yes." gavallan felt sure that erikki would understand this would be his new british registry number. "he's not aware of, er, of certain developments so if your man could also privately explain the reason for haste i'd be very, very grateful. thanks for all your help."
"for your sake, and his, i agree the sooner he leaves the better, with or without his aircraft. there's nothing we can do to help him. sorry, but that's the truth." newbury fiddled with his glass. "now he represents a very great danger to you. doesn't he?"
"i don't think so. he's under the protection of the new khan, his brotherin-law. he's as safe as he could ever be," gavallan said. what would newbury say if he knew about tom lochart? "erikki'll be okay. he'll understand. thanks again."
l e3
tabriz at the international hospital: 6:24 p.m. hakim khan walked painfully into the private room, the doctor and a guard following him. he was using crutches now and they made his walking easier, but when he bent or tried to sit, they did not relieve the pain. only painkillers did that. azadeh was waiting downstairs, her x ray better than his, her pain less than his.
ahmed lay in bed, awake, his chest and stomach bandaged. the operation to remove the bullet lodged in his chest had been successful. the one in his stomach had done much damage, he had lost a great deal of blood, and internal bleeding had started again. but the moment he saw hakim khan he tried to raise himself.
"don't move, ahmed," hakim khan said, his voice kind. "the doctor says you're mending well."
"the doctor's a liar, highness."
the doctor began to speak but stopped as hakim said, "liar or not, get well, ahmed."
"yes, highness. with the help of god. but you, you are all right?"
"if the x ray doesn't lie, i've just torn ligaments." he shrugged. "with the help of god."
"thank you... thank you for the private room, highness. never have i had... such luxury."
"it's merely a token of my esteem for such loyalty." imperiously he dismissed the doctor and the guard. when the door was shut, he went closer. "you asked to see me, ahmed?"
"yes, highness, please excuse me that i could not... could not come to you." ahmed's voice was phlegmy, and he spoke with difficulty. "the tbilisi man you want... the soviet... he sent a message for you. it's... it's under the drawer... he taped it under the drawer there." with an effort he pointed to the small bureau.
hakim's excitement picked up. awkwardly he felt underneath the drawer. the adhesive bandages strapping him made bending difficult. he found the small square of folded paper and it came away easily. "who brought it and when?"
"it was today... sometime today... i'm not sure, i think it was this afternoon. i don't know. the man wore a doctor's coat and glasses but he wasn't a doctor. an azerbaijani, perhaps a turk, i've
spoke turkish all he said was, 'this is for hakim khan, from a friend in tbilisi. understand?' i told him yes and he left as quickly as he arrived. for a long time i thought he was a dream..."
the message was scrawled in writing hakim did not recognise: "many, many congratulations on your inheritance, may you live as long and be as productive as your predecessor. yes, i would like to meet urgently too. but here, not there. sorry. whenever you're ready i would be honored to receive you, with pomp or in privacy, whatever you want. we should be friends, there's much to accomplish and we have many interests in common. please tell robert armstrong and hashemi fazir that yazernov is buried in the russian cemetery at latch and he looks forward to seeing them when convenient." there was no signature.
greatly disappointed, he went back to the bed and offered the paper to ahmed. "what do you make of that?"
ahmed did not have the strength to take it. "sorry, highness, please hold it so i can read it." after reading it, he said, "it's not mzytryk's writing, i'd... i'd recognize his writing but it... i believe it genuine. he would have transmitted it to... to underlings to bring here."
"who's yazernov and what does that mean?"
"i don't know. it's a code... it's a code they'd understand."
"it is an invitation to a meeting, or a threat. which?"
"i don't know, highness. i would guess a meet " a spasm of pain went through him. he cursed in his own language.
"is mzytryk aware that both the last times they were in ambush? aware that abdollah khan had betrayed him?"
