at the police station: ll:s8 a.m. gripped by erikki's great fists, the lower end of the central iron bar in the window came free with a small shower of cement. hastily he pushed it back into its hole, looked out of the cage door and down the corridor. no jailer appeared. quickly he stuffed small pieces of cement and rubble back around the base camouflaging it he had been working on this bar most of the night, worrying it as a dog would a bone. now he had a weapon and a lever to bend the other bars out of shape.
it'll take me half an hour, no more, he thought, and sat back on his bunk, satisfied. after bringing the food last evening, the police had left him alone, confident in the strength of their cage. this morning they had brought him coffee that had tasted vile and a hunk of rough bread and had stared at him without understanding when he asked for the major and for his wife. he did not know the turkish for "major" nor the officer's name, but when he pointed at his lapel, miming the man's rank, they had understood him and had just shrugged, spoken more turkish that he did not understand, and gone away again. the sergeant had not reappeared.
each of us knows what to do, he thought, azadeh and i, each of us is at risk, each will do the best we can. but if she's touched, or hurt, no god will help him who touched her while i live. i swear it.
the door at the end of the corridor opened. the major strode toward him. "good morning," he said, his nostrils crinkling at the foul smell.
"good morning, major. where's my wife, please, and when are you letting us go?"
"your wife is in the village, quite safe, rested. i've seen her myself." the major eyed him thoughtfully, noticed the dirt on his hands, glanced keenly at the lock on the cage, the window bars, the floor, and the ceiling. "her safety and treatment are dependent on you. you do understand?"
"yes, yes, i do understand. and i hold you as the senior policeman here responsible for her."
the major laughed. "good," he said sardonically, then the smile vanished. "it seems best to avoid a confrontation. if you cooperate you will stay here tonight, tomorrow i'll send you under guard to istanbul where your ambas
sador can see you if he wants to stand trial for the crimes you're accused of, or to be extradited."
erikki dismissed his own problems. "i brought my wife here against her will. she's done nothing wrong, she should go home. can she be escorted?"
the major watched him. "that depends on your cooperation."
"i will ask her to go back. i'll insist, if that's what you mean."
"she could be sent back," the major said, taunting him. "oh, yes. but of course it's possible that on the way to the border or even from the hotel, she could be 'kidnapped' again, this time by bandits, iranian bandits, bad ones, to be held in the mountains for a month or two, eventually to be ransomed to the khan."
erikki was ashen. "what do you want me to do?"
"not far away is the railway. tonight you could be smuggled out of here and taken safely to istanbul. the charges against you could be quashed. you could be given a good job, flying, training our fliers for two years. in return you agree to become a secret agent for us, you supply us with information about azerbaijan, particularly about this soviet you mentioned, mzytryk, information about hakim khan, where and how he lives, how to get into the palace and anything else that is wanted."
"what about my wife?"
"she stays in van of her own free will, hostage to your behavior... for a month or two. then she can join you, wherever you are."
"provided she's escorted back to hakim khan today, safely, unharmed and it's proved to me she's safe and unharmed, i will do what you ask."
"either you agree or you don't," the major said impatiently. "i'm not here to bargain with you!"
"please, she's nothing to do with any crimes of mine. please let her go. please."
"you think we're fools? do you agree or don't you?"
"yes! but first i want her safe. first!"
"perhaps first you'd like to watch her spoiled. first."
erikki lunged for him through the bars and the whole cage door shuddered under the impact. but the major stood there just out of range and laughed at the great hand clawing for him impotently. he had judged the distance accurately, far too practiced to be caught unawares, far too experienced an investigator not to know how to taunt and threaten and tempt, how to jeer and exaggerate and use the prisoner's own fears and terrors, how to twist truths to break through the curtain of inevitable lies and half-truths to get at the real truth.
his superiors had left it up to him to decide what to do about both of them. now he had decided. without hurrying he pulled out his revolver and pointed
it at erikki's face. and cocked the pistol. erikki did not back off, just held the bars with his huge hands, his breath coming in great pants.
"good," the major said calmly, holstering the gun. "you have been warned your behavior gauges her treatment." he walked away. when erikki was alone again, he tried to tear the cage door off its hinges. the door groaned but held firm.
al shargaz international airport: 4:39 p.m. from the driver's seat of his car gavallan watched the loading hatch of a 747 freighter close on half the 212s, crates of spares and rotors. pilots and mechanics were feverishly loading the second jumbo, just one more 212 carcass to get aboard, a dozen crates and piles of suitcases. "we're on schedule, andy," rudi, the loading master, said, pretending not to notice his friend's pallor. "half an hour."
"good." gavallan handed him some papers. "here are clearances for all mechanics to go with her."
"no pilots?"
"no. all pilotstre on the ba flight. but make sure they're in immigration by six-ten. ba can't hold the flight. make sure everyone's there, rudi. they've got to be on that flight i guaranteed it."
"don't worry. what about duke and manuela?"
"they've already gone. doc nutt went with them, so they're launched. i... that's about all." gavallan was finding it hard to think.
"you and scrag're still on the six-thirty-five to bahrain?"
"yes. jean-luctll meet us. we're taking kasigi to set up his op and get ready for his iran-toda birds. i'll see you all off."
"see you in aberdeen." rudi shook his hand firmly and rushed away, gavallan let in the clutch, ground the gears and cursed, then went back to the office.
"anything, scrag?"
"no, no, not yet, sport. kasigi called. i told him he's in business, gave him the chopper registrations, names of pilots and mecs. he said he's booked on our flight to kuwait tonight, then he'll catch a ride to abadan, then to irantoda." scragger was as perturbed as the others about the way gavallan looked. "andy, you've covered every possibility."
"have i? i doubt it, scrag. i haven't got erikki and azadeh out."
during the night, till very late london time, gavallan had contacted everyone of importance he could think of. the finnish ambassador had been shocked: "but it's impossible! one of our nationals couldn't possibly be involved in such an affair. impossible! where will you be this time tomorrow?" gavallan had told him and had watched the night turn into dawn. no way to contact
hakim khan other than through newbury and newbury was handling that possibility. "it's a bitch, scrag, but there you are." numbly he picked up the phone, put it down again. "are you all checked out?"
"yes. kasigi'll meet us at the gate. i've sent all our bags to the terminal and had them checked in. we can stay here till the last moment and go straight over."
gavallan stared at the airport. busy, normal, gentle day. "i don't know what to do, scrag. i just don't know what to do anymore."
at the police station in the turkish village: 5:18 p.m. "... just as you say, effendi. you will make the necessary arrangements?" the major said deferentially into the phone. he was sitting at the only desk in the small, scruffy of lice, the sergeant standing nearby, the kookri and erikki's knife on the desktop. "... good. yes... yes, i agree. salaam." he replaced the phone, lit a cigarette, and got up. "i'll be at the hotel."
"yes, effendi." the sergeant's eyes glinted with amusement but, carefully, he kept it off his face. he watched the major straighten his jacket and hair and put on his fez, envying him his rank and power. the phone rang. "police, yes?... oh, hello, sergeant." he listened with growing astonishment. "but... yes... yes, very well." blankly he put the phone back on its hook. "it... it was sergeant urbil at the border, major effendi. there's an iran air force truck with green bands and a mullah coming to take the helicopter and the prisoner and her back to ir "
the major exploded. "in the name of god who allowed hostiles over our border without authority? there're standing orders about mullahs and revolutionaries!"
"i don't know, effendi," the sergeant said, frightened by the sudden rage. "urbil just said they were waving official papers and insisted everyone knows about the iranian helicopter so he just let them through."
"are they armed?"
"he didn't say, effendi."
"get your men, all of them, with submachine guns."
"but... but what about the prisoner?"
"forget him!" the major said and stormed out cursing.
on the outskirts of the village: 5:32 r. m. the iran air force truck was a four-wheel drive, part tanker and part truck, and it turned off the side road that was little more than a track onto the snow, changed gears, and headed for the 212. nearby, the police sentry went to meet it.
half a dozen armed youths wearing green armbands jumped down, then three unarmed, uniformed iran air force personnel, and a mullah. the mullah slung his kalashnikov. "salaam. we're here to take possession of our property in the name of the imam and the people," the mullah said importantly. "where is the kidnapper and the woman?"
"i... i don't know anything about that." the policeman was flustered. his orders were clear: stand guard and keep everyone away until you're told otherwise. "you'd better go to the police station first and ask there." he saw one of the air force personnel open the cockpit door and lean into the cockpit; the other two were reeling out refueling hoses. "hey, you three, you're not allowed near the helicopter without permission!"
the mullah stood in his path. "here is our authority!" he waved papers in the policeman's face and that rattled him even more, for he could not read.
"you better go to the station first..." he stammered, then with vast relief saw the station police car hurtling along the little road toward them from the direction of the village. it swerved off into the snow, trundled a few yards and stopped. the major, sergeant, and two policemen got out, riot guns in their hands. surrounded by his green bands, the mullah went toward them, unafraid.
"who're you?" the major said harshly.
"mullah ali miandiry of the khoi komiteh. we have come to take possession of our property, the kidnapper, and the woman, in the name of the imam and the people."
"woman? you mean her highness, the sister of hakim khan?"
"yes. her."
"'imam'? imam who?"
"imam khomeini, peace be on him."
"ah, ayatollah khomeini," the major said, affronted by the title. "what 'people'?"
just as toughly the mullah shoved some papers toward him. "the people of iran. here is our authority."
the major took the papers, scanned them rapidly. there were two of them, hastily scrawled in farsi. the sergeant and his two men had spread out, surrounding the truck, submachine guns in their hands. the mullah and green bands watched them contemptuously.
"why isn't it on the correct legal form?" the major said. "where's the police seal and the signature of the khoi police chief?"
"we don't need one. it's signed by the komiteh."
"what komiteh? i know nothing about komitehs."
"the revolutionary komiteh of khoi has authority over this area and the police."
"this area? this area's turkey!"
"i meant authority over the area up to the border."
"by whose authority? where is your authority? show it to me."
a current went through the youths. "the mullah's shown it to you," one of them said truculently. "the komiteh signed the paper."
"who signed it? you?"
"i did," the mullah said. "it's legal. perfectly legal. the komiteh is the authority." he saw the air force personnel staring at him. "what are you waiting for? get the helicopter refueled!"
before the major could say anything, one of them said deferentially, "excuse me, excellency, the panel's in a mess, some of the instruments are broken. we can't fly her until she's checked out. it'd be safer to g "
"the infidel flew it all the way from tabriz safely by night and by day, landed it safely, why can't you fly it during the day?"
