"good." to de plessey and scragger, kasigi said in english, "we're full now and ready to leave. about two hours and we'll be on our way."
"excellent," de plessey said, equally relieved. "now we relax."
the whole operation had gone very well. security had been tightened throughout the island and throughout the ship. everything that could be checked was checked. only three essential iranians had been allowed aboard. each had been searched and were being carefully monitored by a japanese crewman. there had been no signs of any hostiles among any of the other iranians ashore. every likely place had been searched that could hide explosives or arms. "perhaps that poor young man off siri one was mistaken, scrag, man amt."
"perhaps," scragger replied. "even so, cobber, i think young abdollah turik was murdered no one gets face and eye mutilation like that from falling off a rig in a calm sea. poor young bugger."
"but the sharks, captain scragger," kasigi said, equally disquieted, "the sharks could have caused those wounds."
"yes, they could. but i'll bet my life it was because of wot he told me."
"i hope you're wrong."
"i'll bet we'll never know the truth," scragger said sadly. "wot was your word, mr. kasigi? karma. that poor young bugger's karma was short and not sweet."
the others nodded. in silence they watched the ship being detached from the barge's umbilical cord.
to see better, scragger went to the side of the bridge. under more floodlights oilmen were laboriously unscrewing the twelve-inch pipe from the barge's complex of valves. six men were there. two japanese crew, three iranians, and a french engineer.
ahead of him was the expanse and length of the flat deck. in the middle of the deck was his 206. he had landed there at de plessey's suggestion and with kasigi's permission. "beaut," scragger had told the frenchman; "i'll fly you back to siri, or lengeh, just as you want."
"yoshi kasigi suggests we both stay overnight, scrag, and return in the morning. it'll make a change for you. we can leave at dawn and return to lengeh. come aboard. i'd appreciate it."
so he had landed on the tanker at sunset, not sure why he had accepted the invitation but he had made a pact with kasigi and felt he should honor it. too, he felt sickeningly responsible for young abdollah turik. the sight of the youth's corpse had rocked him badly and made him want to be at siri until the tanker left. so he had arrived and had tried to be a good guest, halfheartedly agreeing with de plessey that perhaps, after all, the youth's death was just a coincidence and that their security precautions would stop any sabotage attempt.
since the loading had begun the day before, they had all been edgy. tonight more so. the bbc news had again been very bad with reports of greatly increased confrontations in tehran, meshed, and qom. added to this was mciver's report that ayre had carefully relayed from kowiss in french news of the continuing investiture of tehran's international airport, of the possible coup and about kyabi. kyabi's murder had also shocked de plessey. and all of this, along with the floods of rumors and counterrumors among the iranians had made the evening somber. rumors of imminent u. s. military intervention, of imminent soviet intervention, of assassination attempts on khomeini, on bazargan his chosen prime minister, on bakhtiar the legal prime minister, on the u.s. ambassador, rumors that the military coup d'etat would happen in tehran tonight, that khomeini was arrested already, that all the armed services had capitulated and khomeini was already de facto ruler of iran and that general nassiri, chief of savak, had been captured, tried and shot.
"all the rumors can't be true," kasigi had said for all of them. "there's nothing we can do except wait."
he had been a me host. all the food was japanese. even the beer. scragger had tried to hide his distaste for the hors d'oeuvre of sushi but he greatly enjoyed the barbecued chicken in a salty sweet sauce, the rice, and the deep fried prawns and vegetables in batter. "another beer, captain scragger?" kasigi had offered.
"no, thanks. one's all i allow myself though i'll admit it's good. maybe not as good as foster's but close."
de plessey had smiled, "you don't know what a compliment that is, mr. kasigi. for an australian to say a beer's 'close to foster's' is praise indeed."
"oh, yes, indeed i know, mr. de plessey. down under i prefer foster's."
"you spend a lot of time there?" scragger had asked him.
"oh, yes. australia's one of japan's main sources of all kinds of raw materials. my company has bulk cargo freighters for coal, iron ore, wheat, rice, soya bean," kasigi had said. "we import huge amounts of your rice though
much of that goes into the manufacture of our national drink, sake. have you tried sake, captain?"
"yes, yes i did once. but warm wine... sake's not to my taste."
"i agree," de plessey said, then added hurriedly, "except in winter, like hot toddy. you were saying about australia?"
"i enjoy the country very much. my eldest son goes to sydney university too, so we visit him from time to time. it's a wonderland so vast, so rich, so empty."
yes, scragger had thought grimly. you mean so empty and just waiting to be filled up by your millions of worker ants? thank the lord we're a few thousand miles away and the u.s.'ii never allow us to be taken over.
"bollocks!" mclver had said to him once during a friendly argument, when he, mciver, and pettikin were on a week's leave two years ago in singapore. "if some time in the future japan picked the right time, say when the u.s. was having at russia, the states wouldn't be able to do a thing to help australia. i think they'd make a deal an "
"dirty duncan's lost his marbles, charlie," scragger had said.
"you're right," pettikin had agreed. "he's just needling you, scrag."
"oh, no, i'm not. your real protector's china. come hell or strawberries, china's always going to be there. and only china will always be in a position to stop japan if ever japan got militant and strong enough to move south. my god, australia's the great prize in the whole pacific, the treasure chest of the pacific, but none of you buggers down there care to plan ahead or use your loaf. all you bloody want's three days' holiday a week, with more pay for less bloody work, free bloody school, free medical, free welfare, and let some other bugger man the ramparts you're worse than poor old bloody england who's got nothing! the real tr "
"you've got north sea oil. if that's not the luck of the devil i do "
"the real trouble is you bloody twits down under don't know your arse from a hole in the wall."
"sit down, scrag!" pettikin had said warningly. "you agreed no fighting. none. you try and thump mac when he's not smashed you'll end up in the sewer. he may have high blood pressure but he's still a black belt."
"me thump dirty duncan? you must be joking, cobber. i don't pick on old buggers..."
scragger smiled to himself, remembering their bender to end all benders. singapore's a good place, he thought, then turned his attention back to the ship, feeling better now, well fed and very glad that the loading was done.
the night was grand. far above him he saw the blinking navigation lights of an airplane heading westward and wondered briefly where its landfall was, what airline it was and how many passengers were aboard. his night vision
was excellent and he could see that now the men on the barge had almost unscrewed the pipe. once it had been winched aboard, the tanker could leave. at dawn the rikomaru would be in the strait of hormuz and he would take off and fly home to lengeh with de plessey.
then his sharp eyes saw some men running away from the semifloodlit pumping junction just ashore. his attention zeroed on them.
there was a small explosion, then a gush of flame as the oil caught fire. everyone aboard watched aghast. the flames began to spread, and they heard shouting iranian and french ashore. men were running down from the barracks and storage tanks area. a sudden flicker of a machine gun in the darkness, the sharp ugly crackle following. over the ship's loudspeaker system came the captain's voice in japanese: "action stations!"
at once the men on the barge redoubled their efforts, petrified that somehow the fire might spread through the pipe to the barge and blow it up. the moment the nozzle fell away from the valve, the iranians hastily jumped into their small motorboat and fled, their work completed. the french engineer and japanese seamen ran up the gangplank as the tanker's deck winch rattled into life, dragging the pipe aboard.
belowdecks the crew had scurried to emergency positions, some to the engine room, some to the bridge, others to the main gangways. momentarily the three iranians monitoring the fuel flow in various parts of the ship were left alone. they rushed for the deck.
one of them, saiid, pretended to stumble and fall near the main tank inlet. when he was sure he was not observed he hastily opened his trousers and brought out the small plastic explosive device that had been missed in the body search when he had come aboard. it had been taped to the inside of a thigh, high up between his legs. hastily he activated the chemical detonator that would explode in about one hour, stuck the device behind the main valve, and ran for the gangway. when he came on deck he was appalled to find that the men on the barge had not waited and that now the motorboat was almost ashore. the other two iranians were chattering excitedly, equally enraged to be left aboard. neither were members of his leftist cell.
onshore the oil spill was blazing out of control but the oil supply had been cut and the break isolated. three men had been badly burned, one french and two iranians. the mobile fire-fighting truck poured seawater into the flames, sucking it up from the gulf. there was no wind and the choking black smoke made fire fighting even more difficult.
"get some foam onto it," legrande, the french manager, shouted. almost beside himself with rage, he tried to get order, but everyone was still milling about in the floodlights not knowing what to do. "jacques, round up everyone and let's count heads. fast as you can." their full complement was seven
french and thirty iranians on the island. the security force of three men hurried off into the darkness, unarmed except for hastily made batons, not knowing what further sabotage to expect or from where.
"m'sieur!" the iranian medic was beckoning legrande.
he went down toward the shore to the complex of pipes and valves that joined the tanks to the barge. the medic was kneeling beside two of the injured men who lay on a piece of canvas, unconscious and in shock. one of them had had his hair completely singed off and most of his face severely burned; the other had been sprayed with oil in the initial explosion that had instantly conflagrated his clothes, causing first-degree burns over most of the front of his body.
"madonna," legrande muttered and crossed himself, seeing the ugly charred skin, barely recognizing his iranian foreman.
one of his french engineers sat hunched over and was moaning softly, his hands and arms burned. mixed with his agony was a constant stream of expletives.
"i'll get you to the hospital, fast as i can, paul."
"find those fornicators and burn them," the engineer snarled, then went back into his pain.
"of course," legrande said helplessly, then to the medic, "do what you can, i'll call for a casevac." he hurried away from the shore for the radio room that was in one of the barracks, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. then he noticed two men on the far side of the tiny airstrip, running up the track on the slight bluff. over that bluff was a cove with a small wharf used for sailing and swimming. i'll bet the bastards have a boat there, he thought at once. then, almost berserk with rage, he shouted after them into the night, "bastardsssss!"
when the first explosion had occurred de plessey had rushed for the shipto-shore radio that was on the bridge. "have you found that machine gun yet?" he asked the base submanager in french. behind him, scragger, kasigi, and the captain were equally grim. lights on the bridge were dimmed. outside, the moon was high and strong.
"no, m'sieur. after the first burst, the attackers vanished."
"what about the damage to the pumping system?"
"i don't know. i'm waiting for a... ah, just a moment, here's m'sieur legrande." after a moment again in french: "this's legrande. three burned, two iranians very badly, the other's paul beaulieu, hands and arms call for a casevac at once. i saw a couple of men heading for the cove probably the saboteurs, and they've probably a boat there. i'm assembling everyone so we can see who's missing."
"yes, at once. what about the damage?"
"not major. with luck we'll have that fixed in a week certainly by the time the next tanker arrives."
"i'll come ashore as soon as i can. wait a moment!" de plessey looked at the others and told them what legrande had said.
scragger said at once, "i'll take the casevac, no need to call for one."
kasigi said, "bring the injured aboard we've a surgery and a doctor. he's very skilled, particularly with burns."
