“Thank God we’re not and this’s Iran, not England with us at the barricades. Anyway, Tom, if the 125 comes in today I’ll put Sharazad on her. She’ll be better off in Al Shargaz, at least for a couple of weeks. Did she get her Canadian passport?”
“Yes, but Mac, I don’t think she’ll go.” Lochart told him about her joining the insurrection at Doshan Tappeh.
“My God, she needs her head examined. I’ll get Gen to see her.” “Is Genny going to Al Shargaz?”
McIver said testily, “No. If it was up to me she’d’ve been there a week already. I’ll do what I can. Sharazad’s all right?”
“Wonderful, but I wish to God Tehran’d settle down. I get worried sick about her here and me in Zagros.” Lochart gulped some coffee. “If I’m going I’d better get with it. Keep an eye on her, will you?” He looked at McIver, hard and straight. “What’s this charter about, Mac?”
Stonily McIver looked back at him. “Tell me exactly what Valik said to you last night.”
Lochart told him. Exactly.
“He’s a right bastard to try to make you lose face like that.” “He succeeded very well. Unfortunately he’s still family and in Iran - well, you know.” Lochart kept the bitterness out of his voice. “I asked him what’s so important about a few spares and a few rials and he sloughed me off.” He saw that McIver’s face was set and seemed older and heavier than he had ever known, yet tougher. “Mac, what is so important about a few spares and a few rials?”
McIver finished his coffee and poured some more. He dropped his voice. “Don’t want to wake Genny or Paula, Tom. This’s between us.” He told Lochart what had happened in the office. Exactly.
Lochart felt the sudden rush of blood to his face. “SAVAK? Him and Annoush and little Setarem and Jalal? 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.”