In the Lap of the Gods

by Tony Criddle

  The aircraft captain signalled to start one after the co-pilot settled. There was a quiet rumble above them that initially wasn’t very noisy, but when he flashed up two and then the big rotor blades started turning, the noise increased dramatically. The complicated machine padded on the bulbous, black tyres in sympathy with the whistling blades.

  There was a light breeze drifting spasmodically from the north, so the chopper lumbered awkwardly along a concrete taxiway until facing into it. The pilot flicked on a small overhead spot, had a final check of his map then lifted. He accelerated into wind before turning to the south-west.

  By midnight they were panting raggedly. Wisps of breath condensed quickly in the bitter night air, though none of them were near exhausted. They hadn’t slept for some time either, but constant adrenalin rushes had destroyed any desire to. In four hours they’d trekked nearly fourteen kilometres, carefully avoiding any villages, and so far it had been uneventful. Nick was ecstatic.

  Over time they spooked the odd flock of sheep grazing quietly ahead of them, but the animals free-ranged and seemed used to humans around them. They made half-hearted lunges if surprised, but didn’t trot far before their heads were down tearing at the short tussock again.

  Nick squinted at the dial on his watch then signalled a break, and all three sank thankfully to the ground. It was ten minutes before Laleh pulled the last of the food and a water bottle from the black bag. He gave them another twenty minutes while they shared.

  “Okay guys, it’s time to go again. There’s a healthy river only a few clicks ahead and I don’t think we can cross it on foot. The map does show the road south from Salmas crossing that river a bit further on though, so there must be a bridge of some kind there. Aslanik is only eight clicks beyond that but left of the direct track to the pass, so whoever is looking for us may keep to the east. Let’s hope so anyway.”

  “Do you want me to carry the bag for a while Nickie?”

  “I’m okay Lil. How about you Fred?”

  “I’m okay as well Nick. The gun is on a thick sling.”

  “Right-o. Let’s get this over with.”

  Nick picked up the pace and they were looking at the low rails that edged the bridge within the hour. The navigation was only fifty metres from being spot on.

  Distance not theatrics was what it was all about, so rather than climb a high range at night the RH52 pilot deviated south at 500 feet until he hit Sarab. After that he followed a tumbling, silver river which took him all the way to Tabriz. He was there just after the hour had passed and skirted south of the city.

  From there, the pilot could easily pick out the distinctive geometric sheen of steel railway lines fading towards the horizon, and that took him another forty nautical miles further to Azar Shahr. Both line features shimmered silver in the pale moonlight from that height, and now it was only another forty miles to the site. They had to refuel first, but it was thirty minutes to any sort of decent light anyway.

  The police and crew took the opportunity to stretch stiff legs while the chopper refuelled at Azar. Now it could operate for four more hours, so the young air force captain ordered box lunches for eight for when they did it again. By then the eastern horizon was changing from an insipid cream strip to a strengthening pale blue corona.

  Twenty minutes later they were ready to go again and the pilot offered Arak the map. Arak shrugged. He’d never searched from a helicopter before and had no idea how to play it. The captain was unimpressed, and let it show. He took charge of the quest himself.

  “There are a couple of villages within a mile of the crash site so we’d better question them first.” He stabbed with a finger. “What time they started out and whether any of the escapers were injured will affect how far they get, and the villagers may have seen something.” Arak nodded but said nothing, air searches were out of his league and he knew it.

  “We’ll be keeping the beast running when we do it so don’t waste any time either Mister Arak. If they don’t know anything, don’t try interrogating them.” There was some venom in that.

  They were questioning the first villager thirty minutes later.

  Nick moved them in a crouch to the span and watched from the tall, whispering grasses on the road’s edge. Many miles away the yellowed beams of a car challenged the darkness hesitantly, but it wasn’t heading towards them and the rest of the countryside reflected a cold, eerie moonlight. Nothing was close, no houses showed, and no sentries ambled along the bridge’s tarmac either, but as the group moved forward the sound of slipping rocks and hollow, ringing footsteps filtered from across the span. Pulse rates raced and hearts bumped. They shrank down again instinctively.

  A herd of foraging goats drifted through the low, swirling ground mist, the erect head and gimlet eyes of the leader riveted on them as they cowered. The buck knew they were there, even knew what they were, but he was used to men. They wouldn’t be a threat to his charges. He dropped his head again and the animals behind continued browsing contently by the edges of the road. The relief was palpable.

  “It looks pretty quiet, so we’ll save time by going together. Aslanik is northwest of here so we’ll angle left after we cross the bridge but we’ll get well clear before I take some bearings. Okay, let’s do it. You guys first.”

  The three scuttled across the forty metre span in an unnecessary but instinctive half crouch. The noise of water crashing and cascading violently under their feet drowned out any sound of their hurried passage. The bridge had obviously been the only choice. Laleh led down a small pebble and sand shoulder before striking out northwest. The goats chewed on totally ignoring their presence.

  Nick stopped again when they were a good two clicks from the road and peered at the map with strained, tired eyes. He took a bearing to march on.

  “How are you holding up Lily?”

  “I’m okay Nick, but my legs are a bit tired.”

  “Jesus love, you’re legs are a bit tired! I’m completely knackered. What about you Fred?”

  “Closer to you than Laleh, Nick.”

  “Would you boys like me to carry your stuff as well then?” She giggled when she said it, and even though he knew it was said in fun, it galvanised him again.

  “Right guys, I’m pretty sure these people are Kurds so we’ll try for a guide at Aslanik. It’s only thirty odd clicks to the border from there, but they’ll know the best way to do it. It’s bound to be a bit further north and uphill, so trust me it won’t be quick. You’ll be carrying the baggage as well, won’t you Lil?” They snorted at that, and almost as soon as they started off the land began to rise.

  It took a tense three hours before Nick picked up black, more geometrical, shapes on the horizon above. It was still some time from dawn, but the sky was washed a lighter grey by a slowly waning moon and the ebony houses and low trees contrasted darkly. They moved closer before holing up in a shallow wadi a hundred metres from the dark buildings. Soft, cool sand trickled insidiously into their boots.

  They hadn’t come across any animals for a while, and now they could hear and smell why. There were extensive animal pens made of tangled, tortured branches around the houses, and the quivering, high-pitched bleats came mostly from lambs. Breeding stock was obviously locked up at night. They whispered about how to do this next bit, but it became superfluous in the end.

  A weak gleam of lanterns flared through wooden shutters in several houses almost simultaneously, and they started in alarm when several doors opened together. The gaping entrances threw weak shafts of light onto the dusty brown surrounds. But they hadn’t been heard. One of several males moved away from a house to urinate, back-dropped by the scratchy light, and the baggy pantaloons stuffed into knee high boots and long sleeved, billowing shirt confirmed he was Kurdish.

  “I can speak some Kurdish Nick, so you stay here with Laleh until I call. I’ll leave the cannon, that may piss them off, but I’ll need the bag with the money.” Nick passed it across and Amini started walking.

  H
e didn’t try to hide his approach and the villagers spotted him instantly. They called out sharply as they moved slowly towards him, and by the time he was near the houses there were upwards of a dozen males outside. A child’s smaller head was silhouetted behind a door jamb.

  Whatever talk they talked was animated and vigorous for several minutes before Amini whistled then beckoned with an arm over his head. Nick and Laleh approached cautiously but it was an anti-climax. Everyone wanted to shake their hands.

  “This is Baz. He’s the village elder.” Amini pointed to one of several large men, all dressed similarly. Broad cummerbunds confined spreading stomachs, and faces sported dark glittering eyes, large hooked noses and drooping, walrus moustaches. The face hair on the younger males, although trying hard, hadn’t quite got there yet.

  Then the ex-commander pointed to a slender youth. “His son Gizko will be our guide Nick, and wonder of wonders, they’re saddling ponies for us. They don’t do much on foot around here. Laleh and I can ride, what about you?”

  “I’ve never been on a horse in my life Fred, but you won’t get me off with a bloody crowbar until we get to Turkey.”

  Amini translated and the males guffawed.

  Two males leading four horses appeared shortly after. All the animals looked a sleek black in that light, with saddles of soft sheep’s leather. Thick fleeces replaced saddle blankets across their broad, glistening backs. Each saddle had a pommel, a canvas rifle scabbard pinned on the front bracer, and brightly coloured tassels hung from the bridles and the saddle furniture. The colours were only marginally muted even in that poor light. By then several women had also joined the group. It was as if they had landed amongst some religious ritual at some time in the distant past.

  Amini discarded the cotton bag that had held their food as he went through the grip for a bundle of notes, but one of the women knew exactly what it was. She disappeared into the nearest house and returned minutes later with it half filled, and by then Amini had turned to Baz with a wad. The big man wiggled both hands in front of him and pointed to the woman who had collected the bread and cheese. It was she who accepted the money, and Amini had added a generous bonus to it. The woman muttered something and the whole assembly muttered in approval.

  “It’s not a huge amount really Nick, but it’s probably more cash than they see in a year. Once they knew that the government was after us they were happy to do it for free anyway.” Amini shook his head gently with a light smile.

  Nick smiled too but knew time was not on their side. They couldn’t waste any more of it. He’d been given a docile looking mare that looked as if she’d been around a while, and it attracted good natured comments as he climbed on. Once up though he looked stable enough with his feet through the stirrups. A male hung the bag on his pommel and Amini got the message.

  Laleh slid the Tikka into her scabbard before mounting the skittish horse being held for her, but Fred’s rifle combination was big and wouldn’t fit into the scabbard. It was strapped to the rear of his saddle instead. He mounted sedately, but Gizko vaulted onto his horse with the exuberance of his youthful years and led off without looking back. The other three waved.

  They’d only gone about three kilometres when they hit a well-maintained bitumen road. Gizko muttered to Amini and held them in a thicket until two vehicles cleared from the west.

  “The road goes to Turkey Nick, but there’s a big border post on it and the mountains either side are impassable. It’s a few extra clicks, but there’s a fairly obscure route a bit further north.” Nick nodded.

  He stood in his saddle to eye the fractured bands of primrose spreading swiftly on the eastern horizon as they started to climb in earnest.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  It was light enough to make out the Bell easily and the religious cops climbed out to poke around. The small chopper was beyond repair with jagged bullet holes exposing bright, torn aluminium, and shimmering cabin perspex shards scattered around the clearing. The rear rotor blade spar was shot through and hung precariously by shreds of jagged aluminium and the engine was riddled in several places. And to dispel any doubts, the distorted fuselage canted heavily to the left on a crumpled port skid. It had the forlorn, abandoned look of the dead about it.

  They found Sinclair’s body quickly enough but Arak ignored it. A quick glance told him it was European, but it wasn’t Evans and he was the one with the skills and knowledge. The discarded baggage yielded nothing either. The RH 52D pilot was studying his map when Arak strapped himself back in dejectedly.

  “Nothing.”

  “There’s a fairly large river flowing down from the mountains with only one bridge across it, about twelve miles ahead. They’d have to cross there, and beyond there’s a village called Derik on their route. It’s about seven miles north-west of the bridge, near a smaller river that starts on the border. The pilot would have maps and he’d see all that. I bet that’s the way they went. We’ll sweep along the river with FLIR then visit the village. They’ll be looking for a guide, but all the villagers around here will be Kurdish so don’t expect too much from them.”

  Arak nodded as the pilot got under way. “Okay, we’ll check out the villages over the hill before we get going.” A few minutes later they stopped again.

  The policeman scrambled out and they were definitely Kurds. Arak didn’t expect much help and he wasn’t disappointed. Without exception they were sullen, suspicious and reluctant to talk, but in the end he knew they were telling the truth, none had seen any fugitives. Sure they had seen the big jet pass overhead and heard the gunfire, but no-one had climbed the hill to investigate. It was government business, not their problem.

  Gizko kept to the lower foothills for nearly two hours and put ten kilometres behind them on the easier terrain. At the start they were riding through an eerie half-light, the Zagros range holding back the dawn until it flooded the gullies under the mountains in a startling blaze of contrasting pastels.

  The lake changed from dull gun-metal to a dazzling silver with the strengthening sun, while the ragged snow-capped hills east showed a pale yellow on the higher peaks with the early light still behind them. In contrast, the high ranges to the west reflected a harsh white. They looked infinitely colder and much more menacing this close up, and Nick knew he was right not to challenge them.

  Their guide reined in shortly after they’d reached another shallow watercourse that tumbled and swirled across their path. The pass to Turkey started a few kilometres beyond. “We ford here, it is not deep. But rest first.”

  Nick understood the gestures and slid out of his saddle with a grateful groan. The others followed as he massaged sore buttocks. He handed his reins to Laleh and fished around in the bag for the binoculars. The horses tugged at the semi-dried grass as soon as they stopped. Nick idly swept back towards the misty, isolated spur they had walked from to the village.

  “Oh shit!” That got everybody’s attention.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a bloody big chopper following the river we crossed. It’s not going fast, but it’s almost at the bridge.

  Amini translated urgently for the guide.

  “Mount, we ride.” Gizko was aboard before any of them. Laleh held Nick’s reins until he was settled then flung herself into her saddle.

  With water reaching only just above the horse’s fetlocks their guide urged them on, and after they’d cleared the stream they cantered. Nick stood in his stirrups, it was safer and more comfortable than trying to sit.

  The RH 52D landed near a village not ten kilometres away just as Gizko turned into the mountains proper.

  As soon as they had cleared the ridge the helo pilot had switched on FLIR, pointing out a black square that looked like a small radar display to Arak. Within seconds the screen faded from black to irregular flickering greys as wavering bands showed up the heat differences in the soils and rocks.

  “If there is a significant temperature difference you’ll hear a series of beeps, and any
thing really warm will show on the screen in bright orange. Its range is only about five miles though, so don’t look too far ahead.” Arak nodded, and his pilot reduced to a more prudent sixty knots to search, and almost immediately there was a series of beeps. Arak leaned towards the screen excitedly. It was covered in deep amber sausages.

  “Sheep,” the pilot pointed to a flock racing to clear ahead of them. And it happened twice more before the chopper reached the river. Arak’s nerves were shredded before they angled for the village. The houses threw up beeps and images as well.

  A small knot of people congregated beside the houses to watch the helicopter land and Arak rushed forward to interrogate them. There were only women there, the men already out with the animals, but that didn’t matter all that much. The females were just as uncommunicative as the men would ever be, and the children looked at him with an innate suspicion as well.

  For the first few hundred metres the ravine was steep and narrow, the grass sparse and thin, and huge, grey boulders hemmed the riders into single file. However, they reached a grassy plateau that barely sloped at all not long after. It was seventy metres further on before the large rocks elbowed closer together once more. Nick called softly and the other three stopped. The sloping plains had opened up behind them now and he could see the helicopter by the houses with the naked eye. Derik was only twelve kilometres below and behind by his reckoning. Nick refocused again.

  “Oh shit, it’s got FLIR!” The large black half dome was obvious under the machine’s chin.

  “What’s that Nickie?” He told her, and both the Amini’s looked shocked that such things existed.

  The guide hadn’t understood. Farhad explained then looked at Nick.

  “What does it mean really?”

  “Even if we hide it will pick up our body heat Fred. It’s fairly short range, but it won’t miss us in these cold gullies, and there aren’t many places we can hide.” As he spoke the RH 52D lifted and tracked up the river into the foothills.