kia and esvandiary blanched and both started talking, claiming that this was
ridiculous and they were falsely accused. hussain reached over and jerked the gold band of the gold watch on esvandiary's wrist. "when did you buy this and with what did you pay?"
"my... my savings and "
"liar. pishkesh for two jobs. the komiteh knows. now, what about your scheme to defraud the state, secretly offering future oil revenues to corrupt officials for future services?"
"ridiculous, excellency, lies all lies!" esvandiary shouted in panic.
hussain looked at kia who also had gone pasty gray. "what officials, excellency?" kia asked, keeping his voice calm, sure that his enemies had set him up to be trapped far away from the seat of his influence. siamaki! it has to be siamaki!
hussain motioned to one of the green bands who went out and brought in the radio operator, wazari. "tell them, before god, what you told me," he ordered.
"as i told you earlier, i was on the roof, excellency," wazari said nervously; "i was checking one of our lines and overheard them through the skylight. i heard him make the offer." he pointed a blunt finger at esvandiary, delighted for an opportunity for revenge. if it hadn't been for esvandiary, i'd've never have been picked on by that madman zataki, never been beaten and hurt, never been almost killed. "they were speaking english and he said, i can arrange to divert oil revenues from new wells, i can keep the wells off the lists and can divert funds to you..."
esvandiary was appalled. he had carefully sent all the iranian staff out of the of lice building and further, for safety, talked english. now he was damned. he heard wazari finish and kia begin to speak, quietly, calmly, avoiding all complicity, saying he was only leading this corrupt and evil man on: "i was asked to visit here for just this purpose, excellency, sent here by the imam's government, god protect him, for just this purpose: to root out corruption wherever it existed. may i congratulate you on being so zealous. if you will allow me, the moment i get back to tehran, i will commend you directly to the revolutionary komiteh itself and of course to the prime minister."
hussain looked at the green bands. "is esvandiary guilty or not guilty?"
"guilty, excellency."
"is the man kia guilty or not guilty?"
"guilty," esvandiary shouted before they could answer.
one of the green bands shrugged. "all tehranis are liars. guilty," and the others nodded and echoed him.
kia said politely, "tehrani mullahs and ayatollahs are not liars, excellencies, the revolutionary komiteh not liars, nor the imam, god save him, who perhaps
could be called tehrani because he lives there now. i just happen to live there too. i was born in holy qom, excellencies," he added, blessing the fact for the first time in his life.
one of the green bands broke the silence. "what he says is true, excellency, isn't it?" he scratched his head. "about all tehranis?"
"that not all tehranis are liars? yes, that's true." hussain looked at kia, also unsure. "before god, are you guilty or not?"
"of course not guilty, excellency, before god!" kia's eyes were guileless. fool, do you think you can catch me with that? taqiyah gives me the right to protect myself if i consider my life threatened by false mullahs!
"how do you explain you're a government minister, but also a director of this helicopter company?"
"the minister in charge..." kia stopped, for esvandiary was blubbering loudly and mouthing accusations. "i'm sorry, excellencies, as god wants, but this noise, it's difficult to speak without shouting."
"take him outside!" esvandiary was dragged away. "well?"
"the minister in charge of the civil aviation board asked me to join the ihc board as the government's representative," kia said, telling the twisted truth as though he were imparting a state secret, adding other exaggerations equally importantly. "we're not sure of the loyalty of the directors. also may i tell you privately, excellency, that in a few days all foreign airplane companies are being nationalised..."
he talked to them intimately, modulating his voice for the most effect, and when he considered the moment perfect, he stopped and sighed, "before god i confess i am without corruption like you, excellency, and though without your great calling, i too have dedicated my life to serving the people."
"god protect you, excellency," the green band burst out.
the others agreed and even hussain had had most of his doubt pushed aside. he was about to probe a little more when they heard a distant muezzin from the air base calling to evening prayer, and he chided himself for being diverted from god. "go with god, excellency," he said, ending the tribunal, and got up.
"thank you, excellency. may god keep you and all mullahs safe to rescue us and our great islamic nation from the works of satan!"
hussain led the way outside. there, following his lead, they all ritually cleansed themselves, turned toward mecca, and prayed kia, green bands, of lice staff, laborers, kitchen workers all pleased and content that once more they could each openly testify their personal submission to god and the prophet of god. only esvandiary wept through his abject prayers.
then kia came back into the office. in the silence, he sat behind the desk
and allowed himself a secret sigh and many secret congratulations. how dare that son of a dog esvandiary accuse me! me, minister kia! may god burn him and all enemies of the state. outside there was a burst of firing. calmly he took out a cigarette and lit it. the sooner i leave this dung heap the better, he thought. a squall shook the building. drizzle spotted the windows.
lengeh: 6:50 p.m. the sunset was malevolent, clouds covering most of the sky, heavy and black-tinged. "it'll be closed in by morning, scrag," the american pilot ed vossi said, his dark curly hair tugged by the wind that blew from the hormuz up the gulf toward abadan. "goddamn wind!"
"we'll be all right, sport. but rudi, duke, and the others? if she holds or worsens they'll be up shit creek without a paddle."
"goddamn wind! why choose today to change direction? almost as though the gods're laughing at us." the two men were standing on the promontory overlooking the gulf beneath their flagpole, the waters grey and, out in the strait, white-topped. behind them was their base and the airfield, still wet from this morning's passing rain squall. below and to the right was their beach and the raft they swam from. since the day of the shark no one had ventured there, staying close in the shallows in case another lay in wait for them. vossi muttered, "i'll be goddamn glad when this's all over."
scragger nodded absently, his thoughts reaching into the weather patterns, trying to read what would happen in the next twelve hours, always difficult in this season when the usually placid gulf could erupt with sudden and monstrous
violence. for 363 or 364 days a year the prevailing wind was from the northwest. now it wasn't.
the base was quiet. only vossi, willi neuchtreiter, and two mechanics were left. all the other pilots and mechanics and their british office manager had gone two days ago, tuesday, while he was enroute back from bandar delam with kasigi.
willi had got them all out to al shargaz by sea: "we had no trouble, scrag, by god harry," willi had told him delightedly when he landed. "your plan worked. sending 'em by boat was clever, better than by chopper, and cheaper. the komiteh just shrugged and took over one of the trailers."
"they're sleeping on base now?"
"some of them, scrag. three or four. i've made sure we feed them plenty of rice and horisht. they're not a bad group. masoud's trying to keep in their good books too." masoud was their iranoil manager.
"why did you stay, willi? i know how you feel about this caper, i told you to be on the boat, no need for you."
"sure there is, scrag, by god harry, but you'll need a proper pilot along with you you might get lost."
good old willi, scragger thought. glad he stayed. and sorry.
since getting back from bandar delam on tuesday, scragger had found himself greatly unsettled, nothing that he could isolate, just a feeling that elements over which he had no control were waiting to pounce. the pain in his lower stomach had lessened, but from time to time there was still a flick of blood in his urine. not forewarning kasigi about the whirlwind pullout had added to his unease. hell, he thought, i couldn't have risked that, spilling whirlwind. i did the best i could, telling kasigi to go to gavallan.
yesterday, wednesday, vossi had taken kasigi across the gulf. scragger had given vossi a private letter to gavallan explaining what had happened in bandar delam and his dilemma about kasigi, leaving it to gavallan to decide what to do. also in the letter he had given details of his meeting with georges de plessey who was gravely concerned that troubles would again spill over into the siri complex:
"damage to pumping and piping at siri's worse than first thought and i don't think she'll be pumping this month. kasigi's fit to be tied as he's got three tankers due at siri for uplifts in the next three weeks according to the deal he worked out with georges. it's a carve-up, andy. nothing we can do. there's little chance of avoiding sabotage if terrorists really decide to have at them. of course i haven't told georges about anything. do what you can for kasigi and see you soonest, scrag."
on this morning's routine call from al shargaz, gavallan had said only he had received his report and was dealing with it. otherwise he was noncommittal.
scragger had not mentioned mciver, nor had gavallan. he beamed. bet my life dirty dunc flew the 206! never would've bet old by the book mciver'd've done it! even so, bet my life he was like a pig in shit at the chance and no bloody wonder. i'd've done the same...
"scrag!"
he glanced around. one look at willi neuchtreiter's face was enough. "wot's up?"
"i just found out masoud's given all our passports to the gendarmes every last one!"
vossi and scragger gaped at him. vossi said, "what the hell he do that for?" scragger was more vulgar.
"it was tuesday, scrag, when the others left on the boat. of course a gendarme was there to see them off, count them aboard, and that's when he asked masoud for our passports. so masoud gave them to him. if it'd been me i'dtve done the same."
"wot the hell did he want them for?"
willi said patiently, "to re-sign our residence permits in khomeini's name, scrag, he wanted us to be legal you've asked them enough times, haven't you?" scragger cursed for a full minute and never used the same word twice.
"for crissake, scrag, we gotta get 'em back," vossi said shakily, "we gotta get 'em back, or whirlwind's blown."
"i know that, sport." blankly scragger was sifting possibilities.
willi said, "maybe we could get new ones in al shargaz or dubai say we'd lost 'em."
"for crissake, willi," vossi exploded. "for crissake, they'd put us in the slammer so fast we wouldn't know which way was up! remember masterson?" one of their mechanics, a couple of years ago, had forgotten to renew his al shargaz permit and had tried to bluff his way through immigration. even though the visa was only four days out of date and his passport otherwise valid, immigration had at once marched him into jail where he languished very uncomfortably for six weeks, then to be let out but banished forever: "dammit," the resident british official had said, "you're bloody lucky to get off so lightly. you knew the law. we've pointed it out until we're blue in the face..."
"goddamned if i'll leave without mine," vossi said. "i can't. mine's loaded with goddamn visas for all the gulf states, nigeria, the uk and hell and gone it'd take me months to get new ones, months, if ever... and what about al shargaz, huh? that's one mighty fine place but without a goddamn passport and their valid visa, into the slammer!"
"too right, ed. bloody hell and tomorrow's holy day when everything's shut tightertn a gnat's arse. willi, you remember who the gendarme was? was he one of the regulars or a green band?"
after a moment willi said, "he wasn't a green band, scrag, he was a regular. the old one, the one with grey hair."
"qeshemi? the sergeant?"
"yes, scrag. yes, it was him."
scragger cursed again. "if old qeshemi says we've got to wait till saturday, or saturday week, that's it." in this area, gendarmes still operated as they had always done, as part of the military, without green band harassment, except that now they had taken off their shah badges and wore armbands with khomeini's name scrawled on them.
"don't wait supper for me." scragger stomped off into the twilight.
at the lengeh police station: 7:32 p.m. the corporal gendarme yawned and shook his head politely, speaking farsi to the base radio operator, all pash, whom scragger had brought with him to interpret. scragger waited patiently, too used to iranian ways to interrupt them. they had already been at it for half an hour.
