the night before last he had tried to sneak into the doshan tappeh tower to find the hbc clearance book but had been turned back. tonight he was going to try again he had sworn to himself not to fail. i mustn't fail, he thought, sharazad depends on me... oh, sharazad, thou who gives my life meaning even though thou art forbidden.
anxiously he hunted for her among the marchers, knowing she was somewhere here. last night he and a group of his friends heard a violently incendiary broadcast by an ayatollah fundamentalist, opposing the women's protest and demanding there be counterprotests by
"believers." he had become gravely
concerned for sharazad, his sisters, and relations who he knew would also be marching. his friends were equally concerned for theirs. so this morning they had taken the truck and had joined the protest. with guns.
"equality for women," he shouted. "democracy forever! islam forever! democracy and law and islam forev " the words died.
ahead of the march men had formed a thick barrier across the road now, barring progress. the women to the forefront saw their anger and raised fists. instinctively the women in the first half-dozen ranks tried to slow but could not. the swell of the thousands pushed them inexorably forward.
"why're those men so angry?" sharazad asked, her happiness evaporating, the crush increasing.
"they're just misguided, villagers mostly," namjeh lengehi said bravely. "they want us as slaves, slaves, don't be afraid! god is great..."
"link arms," zarah shouted, "they can't stop us! allahhhh-u akbarrr..."
among the men blocking the road was the man who had, at evin fail, led fared bakravan to slaughter. he had recognized sharazad in the vanguard. "god is great," he muttered in ecstasy, his words drowned by the shouting, "god made me an instrument to send the evil bazaar) to hell and now god has given into my hands the harlot daughter." his eyes gloated over her, seeing her naked on the couch, spread, breasts proud, eyes filled with lust, mouth moist, lips moist, hearing her begging him, "take me, take me, quick, for you no money, let me have it, all of it, quick, quick, fill me, stretch me, for you anything, quick quick... oh, satan, help me suck god out of his organ..."
he jerked out his knife, loins throbbing, manhood proud, and hurled himself at her, "god is greatttt..." his rush was sudden and he went across the space separating him from the women, knocked down half a dozen, reaching for her, but slipped and fell in his excitement, his knife flailing. those he wounded were screaming and he fought to his feet and groped for her, seeing only her, her eyes wide, terror-stricken, knife in his fist ready to gut her, now only three paces away, two paces, one... his head filled with her perfume, the stench of the devil incarnate. the death blow began but never touched her and he knew satan had sent an evil djinn his way there was a monstrous burning in his chest, his eyes became sightless, and he died with the name of god on his lips.
sharazad stared down at the crumpled figure, ibrahim beside her now, the gun in his hand, shouts and more screams and a roar of rage from a thousand women pressing behind them.
another shot, another man fell screaming. "forward for god!" lengehi cried over her own fear, her shout taken up by ibrahim who tugged at sharazad: "don't be afraid, forward for women..."
she saw his confidence and for a moment mistook him for her cousin karim so similar in height and build and face, then her terror and hatred at what had
happened burst and she shouted, "forward for my father... down with zealots and green bands... down with murderers!" she grabbed zarah. "come on! forward!" and she linked arms with her and with ibrahim, her savior, so like karim they could be brothers, and they started off again. more men were running to the front in support, the truck with the airmen among them.
another knife wielder came at them screaming.
"god is great..." sharazad shouted, the horde with her, and before he was neutralised the screaming youth had slashed namjeh lengehi's arm. inexorably, the front ranks pressed forward, both sides roaring
"god is great," both sides equally sure they were right. then the opposition crumpled.
"let them march," a man shouted. "our women are there too, some of them, there're too many of them... too many..." those men in the way backed off, others stood aside and now the way was clear. a roar of triumph from the marchers: "allahhh-u akbarrr... god is with us, sisters!"
"forward," sharazad shouted again and the march continued again. those who were wounded were carried or helped to the side, the others streaming onward. now the protest became orderly again. no more opposition barred their way though many men watched sullenly from the sidelines, teymour and others photographing the militants.
"it's a success," namjoh lengehi said weakly, still walking in the front rank, a scarf staunching the flow of blood from her arm. "we're a success even the ayatollah will know of our resolution. now we can go home to our husbands and families. we've done what we wanted and now we can go home."
"no," sharazad said, her face pale and dirt-stained, not yet over her fright. "we must march tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow until the imam agrees publicly to no enforced chador and to our rights."
"yes," ibrahim said, "if you stop now the mullahs will crush you!"
"you're right, agha, oh how can i thank you for saving us?"
"yes," zarah said, still shaken. "we will march tomorrow or those... those madmen will destroy us!"
the march proceeded without more trouble and this was the pattern in the cities, initial trouble then the peaceful protest continuing.
but in the villages and small towns the march was stopped before it began and far to the south, in kowiss, there was silence in the town square except for the sound of the lash and the screams. when the march had formed the mullah hussain had been there. "this protest is forbidden. all women not dressed according to the hijab are liable to sentencing for public nakedness against the dictates of the koran." only half a dozen women among two hundred were dressed in overcoats and western dress.
"where does it say in the koran we disobey god if we don't wear chador?"
one woman shouted. she was the bank manager's wife, and had been to tehran university. her appearance was modest, she wore an overcoat and a skirt but her hair was free.
"'oh, prophet, say to thy wives and daughters and believing women, that they draw their veils closer to them...' iran is an islamic state... the first in history. the imam has decreed hijab. it is hijab. go and dress properly at once!"
"but believers in other lands aren't required chador, nor do their leaders or husbands force them into it."
"'men are managers of the affairs of women, for that god has preferred in bounty one of them over another... righteous women are therefore obedient... those that you fear may be rebellious, admonish; banish them to their couches and beat them. if they then obey you, look not for any way against them." go and cover your hair!"
"i will not. for more than forty years iranian women have been unveiled an "
"forty lashes will curb your disobedience! god is great!" hussain motioned to one of his acolytes. others grabbed the woman and pinioned her. the whip soon ripped through the material on her back to the jeers of the men who watched. when it was over, the senseless woman was carried away. by other women. the rest went back to their homes. in silence.
there hussain looked at his wife, her stomach huge with child. "how dare you join a protest of harlots and loose women?"
"it... it was an error," she said, petrified. "it was a great error."
"yes. you will have no food, only water for two days to remind you. if you weren't with child you would have had the same, in the square."
"thank you for being merciful, god bless you and keep you. thank you..."
at tehran airport: 6:40 p.m. with andrew gavallan beside him, mciver drove out of the freight area onto the feeder road heading for their 125, etll, that was parked on the freight apron a quarter of a mile away. she had been back from tabriz for about an hour and was refueled and ready for the return flight across the gulf. when she had landed, armstrong had thanked them profusely for allowing them the use of the airplane. so had colonel hashemi fazir.
"captain hogg says the 125 returns on saturday, mr. gavallan," hashemi had said politely. "i wonder if you'd be kind enough to give us a ride to tabriz. just one way this time, no need to wait, we can make our own way back."
"of course, colonel," gavallan had said pleasantly, not feeling pleasant about either of the men. when he had arrived from al shargaz this morning
mciverhad told him at once, in private, why it was necessary to cooperate. "i'll deal with that right smartly with talbot, mac," he had said, furious at the blackmail. "cid or special branch notwithstanding!"
they all held their hands over their ears as a giant usaf transport taxied past on its way to the distanttakeoffpoint one of the many u.s. government charters arranged to evacuate remaining american service and embassy personnel except for a skeleton staff. superheated air from the jets tore up snow and washed over them. when gavallan could make himself heard, he said, "talbot left a message for you, mr. armstrong, and asked if you'd see him as soon as possible." he saw the glance between the two men and wondered what it meant.
"did he say where, sir?"
"no, just to see him as soon as possible." gavallan was distracted by a big black limo hurrying toward them, the official khomeini flag on the fender. two hard-faced men got out and saluted hashemi deferentially, held the door open for him.
"until saturday thank you again, mr. gavallan." hashemi got into the back.
"how do we contact you, colonel in case there's a change in plan?"
"through robert. he can get a message to me. is there anything i can do for you? here at the airport?"
mciver said quickly, "about refueling thanks for arranging it if you could see we get the same rapid service every time i'd appreciate it. and also our clearances serviced."
"i'll take care of it. you will have priority for saturday's flight. if there's anything else, please ask robert. come on, robert!"
robert armstrong said, "thanks again, mr. gavallan, see you saturday, if not before."
when talbot had come by earlier to find out armstrong's arrival time back from tabriz, gavallan had taken him aside and almost howled with rage over the blackmail. "bless my soul," talbot had said, shocked. "what a ghastly accusation, terribly un-british, andrew, if i may say so! i understand robert went to a considerable amount of trouble to try to extricate you, your company, duncan, and lochart good man that, lovely wife, sad about her father from a disaster that can raise its ugly head at any moment. couldn't it?" he smiled sweetly. "i understand robert asked, only asked for a modest favor, easy to provide, no skin off the old nose, andrew."
"he's special branch, ex-cid hong kong, isn't he?"
talbot's smile had never lost its sweetness. "i wouldn't know. but he does seem to want to do you a favor. rather nice of him. isn't it?"
"does he have the clearance book?"
"i wouldn't know anything about that sort of thing."
"who's this colonel fazir anyway?"
talbot had lit a cigarette. "just a friend. good man to have as a friend."
"i can see that. he arranged refueling and immediate priority clearance as though he was god all bloody mighty."
"oh, he's not, by no means not. near it, but not god. god's english," talbot had chuckled. "and a woman. no masculine intelligence could balls up the world so satisfactorily. a word to the wise, old chap: i hear, following the advice of your fellow board member, ali kia, they intend nationalising all foreign aircraft companies, particularly yours, if ever they can get the piece of paper together."
gavallan was shocked. "who're 'they'?"
"does it matter?"
after talbot had driven off, gavallan had stalked back into the office that was well staffed today. not back to normal yet but getting there radio op. telex op. office manager, stores men and some secretaries, no women present today as all had requested permission to go on the protest march. "mae, let's take a walk."
mciver glanced up from a pile of reports. "sure," he said, seeing the gravity.
they had had no time to talk privately yet, impossible in or near the office, the walls all thin and ears wide open everywhere. from the moment gavallan had arrived hours ago, the two of them had been busy going through the cash ledgers, contracts still in service, contracts held up or canceled, and the current status of each base all of them reporting, guardedly, minimum work and maximum harassment the only good piece of news mciver's permission to export the three 212s and even that was not sure. yet.
the two men went out onto the freight apron. a jal jumbo roared into the sky. "they say there're still two to three thousand japanese techs kicking their heels at iran-toda," mclver said absently.