Whirlwind

by James Clavell

  And what about your promise to McIver not to fly them the last leg?

  Because of Isfahan you’re marked now—there’s no way the revs will have forgotten your name or the registration of the airplane. Did you see anyone write your name down? No, I don’t think so. Even so, you’d better get out while you can, you’re implicated in an escape, men were killed at Isfahan—whichever way you stack it you’re marked.

  What about Sharazad? I can’t leave her.

  You may have to. She’s safe in Tehran.

  What if they come looking for you and Sharazad answers the door and they take her away in place of you?

  “I could use a cold drink,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry. “You think they have a Coke or something?”

  “I’ll go see.” They both looked off as Valik’s children came bounding up the path from the lake, Annoush close behind them.

  “Ah,” she said to them with her happy smile, but dark shadows around her eyes, “it is a wonderful day, isn’t it? We’re so lucky.”

  “Yes,” both said and wondered how such a woman could marry such a man. She was very good to look at and as beautiful a mother as could be.

  “Captain Abbasi, where’s my husband?”

  “In the house, Highness, with the others,” Ali said. “May I escort you, I was just going there?”

  “Would you find him for me, please, and ask him to join me?”

  Ali did not wish to leave her alone with Lochart, for she had been present when Valik and Seladi had told him of their plans, asking his advice about their destination—though not about Lochart’s elimination, that had come later. “I wouldn’t want to disturb the general by myself, Highness, perhaps we could go together.”

  “You will please find him for me.” She was as imperious as the general, though kindly and without insult.

  Ali shrugged. Insha’Allah, he thought, and went off. When they were quite alone, her two children running around the shed, playing hide-and-seek, Annoush touched Lochart gently. “I haven’t thanked you for our lives, Tommy.” Lochart was startled. This was the first time she had ever called him by his first name—he had always been “Captain Lochart” or “my cousin-in-law” or “His Excellency, the husband of Sharazad.” “I was glad to help.”

  “I know that you and dear old Mac did it for the children and me—don’t look so surprised, my dear, I know my husband’s strengths and…and his weaknesses—what wife doesn’t?” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I know what this means for you too—you’ve jeopardized your life, Sharazad’s, your future in Iran, perhaps your company.”

  “Not Sharazad’s. No, she’s perfectly safe. Her father, Excellency Bakravan, will keep her safe until she can get out. Of course she’s safe,” He saw Annoush’s brown eyes and read behind her eyes and his soul twisted.

  “I pray that with all my heart, Tommy, and beg God to grant that wish.” She dabbed her tears away. “I’ve never been so sad in all my life. I never knew I could be so sad—sad to be running away, sad for that poor soldier dying in the snow, sad for all our families and friends who have to stay, sad because no one’s safe in Iran anymore. I’m so afraid most of our circle will be persecuted by the mullahs, we’ve always been—what shall I say? Too modern and…too progressive. No one’s safe here anymore—not even Khomeini himself.”

  Lochart heard himself say, “Insha’Allah,” but he wasn’t listening to her, suddenly petrified that he would never see Sharazad again, never be able to get back into Iran or her able to get out. “It will be normal again soon, travel permitted and everything okay. Of course it will. In a few months, it’s got to be. Of course it will be normal soon.”

  “I hope so, Tommy, for I love your Sharazad and would hate not being able to see her and the little one.”

  “Eh?” He gaped at her.

  “Oh, but of course you wouldn’t know,” she said, then brushed the last of her tears away. “It was too soon for you to know. Sharazad told me she’s sure she’s carrying her firstborn.”

  “But…but, well she…” He stopped helplessly, aghast, at the same time ecstatic. “She can’t be!”

  “Oh, she wasn’t sure yet, Tommy, but she felt she was. Sometimes a woman can tell—you feel so different, so very different and so wonderful, so fulfilled,” she added, her voice now joyous.

  Lochart was trying to get his mind working, completely aware that it would be impossible for her to understand the turmoil she was creating in him. God in heaven, he thought, Sharazad?

  “There are still a few days to be certain,” she was saying. “I think it’s three or four. Let me think. Yes, including today, Tuesday, four more days to be certain. That would make it the day after, after seeing her father,” she said delicately. “You were to see him this Holy Day, Friday, the sixteenth, by your counting, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Lochart said. As if I could forget. “You knew about that?”

  “Of course.” Annoush was astonished by his question. “Such an extraordinary request from you, and such an important decision would have to be known by all of us. Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if she is with child—didn’t you tell Excellency Bakravan you wanted children? I so hope she has been blessed by God for that will surely pass the days and nights happily for her until we can get her out. Kuwait’s not far. I’m only so sorry she didn’t come with us—that would have made everything perfect.”

  “Kuwait?”

  “Yes, but we won’t stop there—we’ll go on to London.” Again the torment showed. “I don’t want to leave our home and friends and… I don’t…”

  Behind her, Lochart saw the door of the house open. Valik and Seladi came out, Ali with them. He noticed the three of them wore sidearms now. Must have had a cache of weapons here, he thought absently as Ali saluted and hurried down the path toward the lake. Bursting with glee the two children charged from the back of the shed into Valik’s arms. He swung the little girl into the air and set her down.

  “Yes, Annoush?” he asked his wife.

  “You wanted me and the children to be here exactly at this time.”

  “Yes. Please get Setarem and Jalal ready. We’ll be leaving soon.” At once the children ran off into the house. “Captain, is the chopper ready?”

  “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  Valik glanced back at his wife. “Please get ready, my dear.”

  She smiled and did not move. “I just have to fetch my coat. I’m ready to leave.” The rest of the officers were approaching now. Several carried automatic rifles.

  Lochart tore his mind off Sharazad and Holy Day and four days more and broke the silence. “What’s the plan?”

  Valik said, “Baghdad. We’ll take off in a few minutes.”

  “I thought we were going to Kuwait,” Annoush said.

  “We’ve decided to go to Baghdad. General Seladi thinks it’ll be safer than to head south.” Valik kept watching Lochart. “I want to be airborne in ten minutes.”

  “I’d advise you to wait until two or three in the morning and th—”

  Seladi interrupted coldly. “We could be trapped here. Soldiers could ambush us—there’s an air base nearby, they could send out a patrol. You don’t understand military matters. We leave for Baghdad at once.”

  “Kuwait’s better and safer, but in both places the chopper’ll be impounded without an Iranian clearance,” Lochart said.

  “Perhaps, perhaps not,” Valik said calmly. “Baksheesh and a few connections will make all the difference.” You, interloper into my family, he thought benignly, you along with the gift of the 212 will be a sop to satisfy even the Iraqis, for we certainly agree you have flown it illegally—even the clearance you obtained from Tehran was illegal. The Iraqis will understand and they won’t harm us. Most of them hate and fear Khomeini and his version of Islam. With you, the 212 and a little extra on the side, why should they give me trouble?”

  He saw Lochart watching him. “Yes?”

  “I think Baghdad’s a bad choice.”

  General
Seladi said curtly, “We will leave now.”

  Lochart flushed at the rudeness. Some of the others shifted nervously. “No doubt you’ll leave when the aircraft is ready and the pilot ready. Have you flown in these mountains?”

  “No…no I haven’t, but the 212 has the ceiling and Baghdad’s where we will go. Now!”

  “Then I wish you luck. I still advise Kuwait and waiting, but you do what you want, because I’m not flying you.”

  There was an even bigger silence. Seladi went red in the face. “You will prepare to leave. Now.”

  Lochart said to Valik, “On the way to Isfahan I told you I wouldn’t be flying the last leg. I’m not flying you onward. Ali can do that—he’s fully qualified.”

  “But you’re as wanted as any of us now,” Valik said, astonished with his stupidity. “Of course you will fly the last leg.”

  “No, no I won’t. I’ll backpack out of here—of course you can’t waste time landing me somewhere. Ali can fly you—he’s been based in this area and knows the radar. Just leave me a rifle and I’ll head for Bandar Delam. Okay?”

  The others stared from Lochart to Seladi and Valik. Waiting.

  Valik thought through this new problem. So did Seladi. Both men came to the same conclusion: Insha’Allah! Lochart had chosen to stay and therefore Lochart had chosen the consequences. “Very well,” Valik said calmly. “Ali will fly us.” He smiled and then because he respected Lochart as a pilot, he added quickly, “As we’re a very democratic people, I suggest we put it to a vote—Iraq or Kuwait?”

  “Kuwait,” Annoush said at once, and the others echoed her before Seladi could interrupt.

  Good, Valik thought, I allowed myself to be overruled because Seladi claimed to know the chief of police in Baghdad and said that safe passage for me and my family and him would be no more than $20,000 in U.S. notes which would be immeasurably cheaper than Kuwait—how much the others will have to pay will be up to them; I hope they have money with them or the means to get enough quickly. “Of course you agree, Excellency Uncle? Kuwait. Thank you, Captain. Perhaps you’ll tell Ali he’ll be flying us—he’s down by the lake.”

  “Sure. I’ll just get my gear. You’ll leave me a rifle?”

  “Of course.”

  Lochart went to the shed and disappeared inside.

  Seladi said, “Some of you get the chopper out and we’ll be off.” They went to obey him. Lochart came out, put his flight bag and carry bag beside the door and walked down the path toward the lake. Seladi watched him go, then impatiently walked over to the 212.

  Valik saw his wife watching him. “Yes, Annoush?”

  “What’s planned for Captain Lochart?” she asked softly though they could not be overheard.

  “He’s…you heard him. He refuses to fly us and wants to stay. He’ll walk out.”

  “I know how your mind works, my dear. Are you going to have him killed?” There was a nice smile on her face. “Murdered?”

  “Murder would be the wrong word.” His mouth smiled. “I’m sure you’d agree Lochart represents a great danger now. He knows us all, all our names—all our families will suffer when he’s caught and tortured and sentenced. It’s the Will of God. He made the choice. Seladi wanted it done anyway—a military decision—I said no, that he should fly us onward.”

  “To be a sacrifice in Kuwait, or Baghdad?”

  “Seladi gave orders to Ali, I didn’t. Lochart’s marked, poor man. It’s tragic, but necessary. You agree, don’t you?”

  “No, my dear, I’m sorry but I don’t. So if he’s hurt, or touched here, there will be many who live to regret it.” Annoush’s smile did not change. “You as well, my dear.”

  His face flushed. Behind him men had pulled the 212 into the open and now they were loading her. He dropped his voice. “Didn’t you hear me, Annoush, he’s a threat! He’s not one of us, Jared barely tolerates him and I promise you he’s a great danger to us, to those we’ve left behind—your family as well as mine.”

  “Didn’t you hear me, husband? I promise you I know only too well the dangers, but if he’s killed here—murdered—you will be killed too.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “Sometime you will sleep and you will not awaken. It will be the Will of God.” The smile never changed nor the gentleness of her voice.

  Valik hesitated, then his face closed and he hurried down the path. The children barreled out of the house toward her and she said kindly, “Wait here, my darlings, I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Esplanaded over the lake on stilts was an open-sided barbecue area and bar under a neat overhang, with a few steps that went down into the water for skiers, or for the motorboat that was tied up in its shelter nearby.

  Lochart was on the water’s edge, his hands up.

  Ali had the automatic leveled. His orders from Seladi had been clear: go to the lake and wait. We will either call you back or send the pilot to find you. If the pilot comes looking for you, kill him and return at once.

  He had hated the order—bombarding or attacking revolutionaries or mutineers from a chopper gunship was not murder as this was murder. His face was ashen, he had never killed before and he asked God’s pardon, but an order was an order. “Sorry,” he said, hardly able to talk and began to pull the trigger.

  At that instant Lochart’s legs seemed to collapse and he twisted over the side into the water. Automatically, Ali followed the movement, aimed for the center of the back as though at target practice, knowing he could never miss at this range. Fire!

  “Stop!”

  The fraction of a second he had hesitated was enough time for his brain to hear the order and obey it thankfully. With shuddering relief, he felt his finger release the pressure on the trigger. Valik rushed up to him and both of them peered into the water, murky here in the shade and quite deep. They waited. Lochart did not appear.

  “Perhaps he’s under the floor—or under the raft,” Ali said, wiping the sweat off his face and hands, and thanking God that the pilot’s blood was not on his soul.

  “Yes.” Valik was also sweating, but mostly with fear. He had never seen that look on his wife’s face before, the smile that promised a death in the night. It’s her vile ancestors, he thought. She’s Qajar, her lineage Qajars who could happily blind or murder rivals to the throne—or children of rivals—didn’t only one Qajar Shah in their 146-year dynasty relinquish his throne through natural death? Valik looked around, saw her standing up at the head of the path, then turned back to Ali. “Give me your gun.”

  Shakily Valik put the gun down on the rough wooden planking, and called out: “Lochart, I’ve left you a gun. This was all a mistake. The captain was mistaken.”

  “But, General—”

  “Go up to the chopper,” Valik ordered loudly. “Seladi’s a fool—he should never have given you orders to kill this poor man. We leave at once and we go to Kuwait—not Baghdad. Ali, go and start the aircraft!”

  Ali left. As he passed Annoush he eyed her curiously, then hurried onward. She walked down and joined Valik.

  “You saw?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  They waited. No sound here, no tide to lap the pilings. It was beautiful and calm, the surface of the lake glassy and windless. “I… I pray he’s hiding somewhere,” she said, a great void in her soul, but now time to heal the breach. “I’m glad his blood’s not on our hands. Seladi’s a monster.”

  “We’d better go back.” They were quite hidden from the chopper and the house. He took out his automatic and fired it once into the ground nearby. “For Seladi. I, er, think I hit Lochart when…when he surfaced. Eh?”

  She took his arm. “You’re a wise and good man.” They walked back up the rise, arm in arm. “Without you, your cleverness and courage, we would never have escaped Isfahan. But exile? Wh—”

  “Temporary exile,” he said jovially, filled with relief that the vile moment between them had passed. “Then we’ll come home again.”

  “That would be wonderf
ul,” she said, forcing herself to believe it. I’ve got to or I’ll go mad. I’ve got to for the children! “I’m glad you chose Kuwait—I never liked Baghdad, and those Iraqis, ugh!” Her eyes still had shadows in them. “What Lochart said about waiting till after dark was wrong?”

  “There’s an air base within a few miles. We could have been seen on radar, Annoush, or by spotters in the hills. Seladi’s right in that—the base will send a patrol after us.” They topped the rise. The children were waiting for them in the cabin doorway, everyone else aboard. They quickened their pace. “Kuwait’s much safer. I’d already decided to overrule that pompous fool Seladi—he’s never to be trusted.”

  In minutes they were airborne, heading northward over the rim of these hills, skirting the crags, hugging the ground to avoid the nearby danger from the air base. Ali Abbasi was a good pilot and knew the area well. Once over the rim and down into the valley he turned west and scurried through a pass to avoid the outer perimeter of the airfield, the Iraqi border some fifty miles farther ahead. Snow covered the heights of the mountains far above them and parts of the slopes, though the floor of some valleys were green, here and there, among the rocky wilderness. They thundered over an unexpected and unknown village, then curled almost due south, again following the water course, paralleling the border that was far to their right. The whole flight would take barely two hours, depending on the winds, and the winds were favorable.

  Those in the cabin near the windows happily watched the land rushing past, the two children given the best positions, the major holding Jalal, Valik, his daughter beside Annoush, Everyone was content, a few praying silently. Sunset was not far off and would be good, red-tinged clouds—“red sky at night, shepherds’ delight,” Annoush crooned to Setarem in English—and, up front, the engines sounded good with all needles in the Green.