In the Lap of the Gods

by Tony Criddle

  “Isn’t somebody going to be looking for us by then?”

  “That’s the rub Lil, write down Ardabil. It’s, northwest of Tabriz and there’s a big airforce base and army camp there. Unfortunately they’ve always got an F14 Tomcat on ten minute standby and that includes the Sabbath. The shah bought most of Iran’s military equipment from the Yanks as well. It garages Hercules, Sea Stallions and Kiowas, and Kiowas are the military version of what we’re flying. They’ll have a pretty good idea about our capabilities.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s not all bad. Ardabil is over 250 clicks from Azar Shahr, so Tomcats could take thirty minutes to get there even with a scramble, and one of their big helicopters would take well over an hour to even get to the lake. We should be okay in the mountains. It’s just the last 200 clicks that will be tight.”

  “We don’t have a choice though really, do we?”

  “Well we do have a few things in our favour. The bigger survey companies always have some spare fuel containers and as far as the regime knows we may not need to refuel anyway. America put an embargo on spare parts and aviation fuel after the revolution as well, so Iran may not have all that many aircraft left that can fly anyway. They certainly won’t waste what aviation fuel they have got unless they’ve got something to go on. They’ll guess we’re going for Turkey after a while, but it’s mountainous and the border is over 300 clicks long up there, and we could be going for any bit of it.” He took a sip while she wrote.

  “Searching for people isn’t all that easy either Lily. I’ve done it a few times and often we couldn’t see survivors at a half a mile even over fairly flat sea or land. A Tomcat would take thirty minutes to get to where we were anyway, and we could be anywhere within 500 square kilometres by then. It’s a hell of a lot harder than you think and we won’t be making ourselves obvious. We’ll try to convince them we’re going south of the lake as well. It’s a bit shorter and with Tabriz and Ardabil to the north it’ll seem logical.”

  “Well, we could be in Iran for a long time and not get out in the end anyway. I want us to get on with our lives now Nickie. I vote we go.”

  “I knew you would. We’ll work out some decoys and I’ll update Jock and Farhad.”

  Laleh excused herself when Nick called the two men to the table. She already knew what was coming, knew what odds they faced. She went to the kitchen to get their dinner underway but before she started to heat and stir, she looked back at him with a grin.

  “The first thing you do when we settle somewhere is to cook me something special.”

  He couldn’t keep the warmth and affection out of his grin. She probably didn’t realise how much of an optimist she was, how tough but flexible, how she kept carrying them to a better place in the future. “It might surprise you to know that I’m quite an accomplished cook, young lady. I’ve ended up in some pretty ordinary places and I’m not all that keen on baked beans on toast.” Laleh was still smiling when she turned back to what she was doing. Nick got back to the maps.

  “Before I start guys, I’d better tell you that the first 800 clicks should be a doddle with what the regime knows, but the last 200 could bring tears to your eyes. There are some things on our side though, so I think the odds are worth it.”

  Nick got some serious nods before he skimmed over the departure, only taking his time over the end game. The pluses got highlighted and the dangers elaborated on, then he pointed out a small tarn, high in the mountains, just north of a place called Saqqez.

  “That’s where we’ll refuel from the containers Jock. I’ll stop the rotors but keep the engine idling, and we won’t be in any hurry so it can be a pee and a stretch the legs break. It’s pretty isolated and heavily forested, with a few low grade roads around the northern end. Saqqez itself is over thirty clicks south of the lake and only rough dirt tracks run up to the lake from there. We’ll cross it in the middle where it’s the most rugged.” Jock Sinclair jotted down a few notes.

  Nick pointed out Sandandaj next, a large yellow dot wallowing in a sea of green and beige.

  “The airfield is fairly large and it’s got a big approach radar on a hill. We’ll let it sweep us a couple of time while we’re heading south of our real destination. We won’t change direction until we drop down again either so they may think we’re heading for south of Lake Urmia if they spot us. I’ll refine it, but that’s about it unless anybody can think of something else?”

  “There’s a big chance of me getting caught the longer I stay here Nick, and harbouring me isn’t going to endear you two either. Let’s do it mate, I’m all for it.”

  “Me too laddie. Life’s been a bit boring lately, it’s time we stirred the pot a bit.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  That last, mournful evening was on top of them before they expected it, and irritable snapping and long empty silences were part of the building stress. Shrill chatter turned to unnatural laughter at the drop of a hat, and the best two bottles of red disappeared swiftly with Sarah’s stew. And this time Sarah ate with them. She cleared away while Nick and the Aminis sorted out what they would take. Sinclair had already done his and sat reflecting over a large single malt.

  Packing a few essentials didn’t take long, and the hype and the enforced jollity slowly died. Faces got longer and sentences got terminated abruptly as it they were at a funeral. They needed an early night and someone had to get this over with.

  “Okay guys, early start tomorrow so let’s hit the sack.” Nick walked towards the housekeeper with his arms spread. “Sarah, I’m really going to miss you.” He hugged her tightly and both their eyes glistened. She swayed her shoulders away and looked at him intently before kissing both cheeks.

  “You’re the mother I never really knew Sarah, thank you for everything.” It was all he could get out before he choked up completely.

  “Go with your god my son.” It was all she could get out too.

  Sinclair and then Farhad did the hugging bit next and the Scot tried to hide what he felt behind a bout of coughing. The commander tried stoic and in control but didn’t do a very good job of it.

  When it got to Laleh and Sarah’s goodbyes, they both ended up crying openly, and that came close to setting Nick and Sinclair off too. They pretended to be dry eyed, wiping moist lids quickly with soggy sleeves, but then again, big boys don’t cry do they? It had been a long time for some, for others not that long at all, but it didn’t seem to matter much either way.

  It was probably unnecessary, but Nick set the alarm clock as they climbed into bed. Right then he was happy just to hang on to Laleh, but she had other ideas. She was as ardent as a human being probably could get, and a few hours later she roused him from a light doze and started a repeat performance. He didn’t sleep at all after that and shut off the alarm just before it trilled, but the sound of his light movements were enough to get everyone else going.

  Nick suggested a big breakfast, he didn’t want them running on empty, but when it came down to it none were hungry. It was the plunger that took a hammering before Laleh packed cloth bags with any food she thought would travel. In the end Nick reminded her about space. She muttered a sorry before concentrating on the flasks. The males put the baggage in the yard and were ready to roll before six.

  Imran and his boys were stacking the vehicle when Nick unlocked the courtyard door, and shortly after Sarah and Mohammed wandered up. Rib-crushing hugs did the rounds again before they clambered into the vehicle, and although there wasn’t that much room left somehow eight people and a heap of bags fitted in somewhere.

  It was knocking on May on that chilly spring morning, and rampant green flora already fought to break from its restricting buds. Although it didn’t look like rain, dawn did see the eastern horizon wreathed in a thick band of multi-coloured clouds with the Zagros dominated by low, thin stratus writhing in the moist cool air. It took time before a juvenile sun sent broad javelins of yellow and orange westwards, and that was just when their vehicle reached the squa
t aircraft buildings. The sky had an intimidating, broody look about it, almost an omen if you believed in such things.

  Imran squealed to a halt beside the hangar side door, away from the terminal’s hostile front, and while Sinclair, Farhad and the boys started unloading the vehicle, Nick lead Laleh to the crew-room. He let her in to make a brew while he opened up the workshop and took the bolt cutters to the hangar.

  “The boys can stack the chopper any time they like Jock. No lights and remind them not to show themselves.” Sinclair grimaced. There was no humour in it.

  “Relax Nick. Everything’s in hand. I’ll crack both roller doors for some light as well. I’ll open ’em properly later.”

  Nick watched the chains slip into the sand and the maintenance team manhandle one of the machines just behind the hangar entrance. They left the machines doors pinned open, and in what seemed only seconds had the luggage stacked beside it.

  The boys squeezed the luggage into the helo while Jock edged out-front to the tall hangar access doors. He looked carefully around the hangar wall before snipping the chains from the big rollers. The cutters joined the chains in the sand and he opened the sliding doors a crack before slipping back through the side door. The chopper was ready for a start by then and the boys milled around the Bell in a tight bunch. Concern was etched deeply into each mahogany face.

  “Do you need a hand with anything Jock?”

  “Nothing more Imran. I’ll open the hangar doors fully later and we’ll go from in here.

  “You sure?” It was as if he needed something to do.

  Sinclair looked at him with something more than affection. “Piss off you ugly bastard before I do think of something.”

  A large grin lit the Pakistani’s face. He turned towards Nick and dragged an amulet threaded on strong black twine from around his neck. It was a replica of his nation’s crescent and star emblem, and he fitted it around Nick’s neck. The pilot fingered it and realised it was gold. He protested.

  “Hush Nick, it has always brought me luck and I’d rather you had all that is going around right now.” Nick muttered an embarrassed thanks.

  “Get going Imran, and name your next son Nicholas.”

  That started another round of goodbyes before the car took off in a knee-high swathe of whirling sand. The last the pilot saw of them was disembodied hands waving from open windows. Nick knew he was being a pain in the arse, but couldn’t stop himself either.

  “You sure there’s nothing I can do down here Jock?”

  “Shit, not you as well Nick. Me and Fred can do anything else and you and Lily get to do what you do shortly. If you want to help drag out the cannon and put the kettle on, we’ll be up there shortly.” Nick grinned and left for the demountable.

  It was the waiting that was the hard part. Nick was restless, almost anally retentive as he shredded a bin-load of papers with a company logo that Laleh had stacked. He needed action of some sort, and needed it soon. He noted a sheen on Laleh’s brow when they finished, and when he ran a hand over his own it came away damp too.

  Nick dreaded bad weather in the mountains right then, and like aviators everywhere had a healthy respect for Murphy’s Law. He couldn’t exactly phone for a met update anyway and he’d learned that expecting the unexpected made for octogenarian pilots. He grabbed the map again, folded it into a concertina to make it easier for Laleh to handle, then called her to the table.

  “Your watch accurate Lil?”

  “It’s okay, but I’ll set it exactly to yours.” She adjusted by a minute.

  He applied an estimate of the wind the fluttering wind-sock indicated to their headings.

  “That’s the last thing I can think of except to dig out Farhad’s cannon.”

  “Okay. I’ll do Jock and Farhad a coffee when they get here, but the water’s boiled if you want one now?”

  “Any time Lily any time.” Laleh grinned.

  He’d barely dragged the cannon out when the Scot and Amini bundled in, so Laleh filled more mugs while Farhad checked over the weapon. He loaded four ugly explosive cartridges into the grenade reservoir, a magazine into the rifle, and chambered both parts before he applied the safeties.

  “That’s it then laddie. We’re all packed and ready to go.”

  By then the dawn had gained some authority. Sinclair and Nick looked like mirror images, sipping coffee at the picture window with a hand in a trouser pocket. They drew back when two utes drew up to the rear of the civil terminal and three figures climbed out. The nonchalance didn’t seem to alter much but their pulse rates went up immediately. Nick tried to appear casual when he turned.

  “Ten minutes and we’ll do it guys. Imran must almost be in Tehran by now.” Even waiting that short length of time wasn’t going to be great for the nerves.

  They kept the grey demountable between them and the terminal when they slipped towards the hangar access door. The blue and white chopper crouched menacingly near the big hangar rollers, fully loaded, with all four cabin doors pinned wide open, looking keen to get going itself. Nick placed Laleh on the right and Amini pushed his weapon under the rear cabin seat before helping strap his sister in. Sinclair was doing the same for Nick on the left.

  When she was ready Nick got Laleh to spool up. Jock waited for her thumbs up before moving to open the rolling doors with Amini. Nick took control and gave the girl the map to orient. She could follow it easily now, no matter which way it had to be held.

  Nick had told her it was largely a thing of gender and mathematical orientation, but it takes a lot of practice to read a map aligned in the direction of travel. She’d smiled at first, thinking it was still about reconstructing her self-confidence, but he’d known what she was thinking and shook his head. He’d only had one instructional tour but no student had picked up on things as quickly as she had, and some of those guys had become competent instructors themselves. He let her know that too and it primed her for a long day.

  Nick would get them under way from inside the hangar, and he hunched expectantly as the huge corrugated steel doors lumbered open. Jock had remembered to keep the steel tracks greased so there was no screeches of tortured steel, but there was nothing he could do about the roar of the engine in the confined space. As the two raced back to the vibrating helicopter Sinclair caught the pilot’s urgent gestures. Both he and Farhad looked back.

  A white ute was racing towards them in a flurry of choking sand only a few hundred metres away, and could easily block the machine’s passage out of the hangar. Amini didn’t hesitate. Nick saw his animated gestures and silent mouth distortions as he told Sinclair to board, then he wrenched the heavy, ugly weapon from the cabin floor and raced back the few paces to the doors.

  Everything seemed to slow to a crawl when he skidded to a halt. Amini half turned the weapon to locate the safety, aligned it briefly, then shot from the hip. A disconcerted Nick didn’t hear him fire but seconds later saw a plume of sand, dirt, smoke and pebbles erupt skywards a few metres right and ahead of the utility. Braking hard, the vehicle snaked viciously, hurling loose sand skywards as it canted onto two wheels, until the cloud of flying debris totally obscured its frantically sliding passage. When it became vaguely clear again the vehicle was fish-tailing hastily back to the terminal. Amini threw himself in the chopper and dragged at the door behind him.

  “Go laddie, we’re okay.”

  Nick aimed directly for the Qom River gorge low enough to be trailing an arrow of tumbling sand in his wake. He had to lift slightly once they were enclosed by the sombre rocky funnel because a wind-blown river was tossing shreds of whitecaps on high, and they were low enough to be catching airborne spray. Reverberating sounds of their passage reflected from the steep, fractured walls of the grey river canyon.

  When they were settled Laleh turned to her brother.

  “You should have taught me how to use that thing Farhad. I might have hit the bastards.”

  Farhad smiled. “I wasn’t trying to Laleh. The pricks weren’t revolu
tionary police they were air traffic controllers. Frightening them fart-less was enough.” Laleh snorted but Nick turned towards her with a look of amazement on his face. She could feel his eyes on her and turned with a quizzical look.

  “What?”

  He turned forward again with a small smile distorting his lips, but it was like someone had opened the flood gates completely. The determination, the commitment, the courage and the logic that helped her climb what seemed like insurmountable barriers to him now made perfect sense. They had decided to escape and nothing would get in the way if she could help it. The ability to go for it was inbuilt, but so too was an ability to change tacts rapidly if that was necessary. She was like a predator guarding her cubs, so maybe her occasional tunnel vision was necessary.

  That revelation was shattering. He knew he’d looked for a partner in a half-hearted way before, not sure of what he was looking for and still uncomfortable with the memories of his youth. He also knew that opposites attract, there was an ego boost in supplying something your partner was short of, but now he realised he’d been looking in the wrong direction. He needed a partner who had the same warrior instincts as him, someone who would only agree with him if she thought he was right. He needed someone who could cut through the crap, who could cope with the most pressing problem even if the solution seemed risky at the time.

  In the end it was about finding a mate who thought and acted mostly the way he did, about someone innately and morally tough enough to travel that rocky road beside him. Someone he could trust to get his back. That’s what had been missing he realised, and that’s what he had now. It was mind blowing, and the bizarre circumstance in which it happened bemused him most of all.

  “Start pulling power now if you’re not going to lose speed in the climb Nick. Your new heading will be 310 when you’ve cleared the valley.”

  “310, fine.” He manoeuvred through the thin stratus, the wind-screen fogging momentarily as he made his turn.

  Two severely frightened air traffic controllers raced back to the small control room. The most senior grabbed for a phone but had to dial three times before he got it right.