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  ‘It was a code message I had to give the Khan,’ Ross said, achingly aware she still bewitched him. ‘ “Tell Abdollah Khan that Peter”—that could be Gueng’s Patar or Petr, the Soviet—“that Peter’s after the Gorgon’s head and Peter’s son is worse than Peter. The son plays with curds and whey and so does the father, who’ll try to use a Medusa to catch the Gorgon.” ’

  Azadeh said, ‘That’s easy. Erikki?’

  ‘Yes,’ Erikki said, distracted. ‘But why “curds and whey”?’

  ‘Perhaps this,’ she said, her excitement rising. ‘Tell Abdollah Khan that Petr Mzytryk, KGB, is after his head, that Mzytryk’s son—let’s presume also KGB—is worse than his father. The son plays at curds and whey—perhaps that means the son is involved with the Kurds and their rebellion that threatens Abdollah Khan’s power base in Azerbaijan, that the KGB, the father, and the son are also involved—and that Petr Mzytryk will use a Medusa to catch the Gorgon.’ She thought a moment. ‘Could that be another pun and mean “use a woman”, perhaps even an evil woman to catch my father?’

  Ross was shocked. ‘The Khan’s. . . My God, the Khan’s your father?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Gorgon’s my family name,’ Azadeh said. ‘Not Gorden. But the principal of the school at Château d’Or told me the first day I could hardly have a name like Gorgon—I would get teased to death—so I was to be just Azadeh Gorden. It was fun for me, and the principal thought it better for me that I was just plain Azadeh Gorden and not the daughter of a Khan.’

  Erikki broke the silence. ‘If the message’s correct, the Khan won’t trust that matyeryebyets at all.’

  ‘Yes, Erikki. But my father trusts no one. No one at all. If Father’s playing both sides as Johnny thinks—there’s no telling what he’ll do. Johnny, who gave you the message to give to him?’

  ‘A CIA agent who said I could trust your father with my life.’

  Erikki said witheringly, ‘I always knew the CIA were. . . were crazy.’

  ‘This one was all right,’ Ross said more sharply than he meant. He saw Erikki flush and her smile vanish.

  Another silence. More jagged. The moonlight in the room faded as the moon went behind a bank of cloud. It was uneasy in the gloom. Gueng who had watched and listened felt the increased disquiet and he silently called on all gods to extricate them from Medusa, the pagan devil with snakes for hair that the missionaries had taught about in his first school in Nepal. Then his special sense felt the approaching danger, he hissed a warning and went to the window and peered out. Two armed guards with a Doberman pinscher on a leash were coming up the staircase opposite.

  The others were equally rigid now. They heard the guards pad along the terrace, the dog sniffing and straining on the leash. Then go towards the outside door. Again it creaked open. The men came into the building.

  Muffled voices outside the door of the bedroom and the sound of the dog snuffling. Then near the door of the anteroom. Gueng and Ross moved into ambush, kukris ready. In time the guards moved down the corridor, out of the building and down the staircase again. Azadeh shifted nervously. ‘They don’t come here normally. Ever.’

  Ross whispered back hastily, ‘Maybe they saw us coming up here. We’d better leave. If you hear firing, you don’t know us. If we’re still free tomorrow night, could we come here, say just after midnight? We could perhaps make a plan?’

  ‘Yes,’ Erikki said. ‘But make it earlier. Cimtarga warned me we might have to leave before dawn. Make it around 11 p.m. We’d better have several plans ready—to get out is going to be very difficult, very.’

  ‘How long will you be working for them—before you’re finished?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps three or four days.’

  ‘Good. If we don’t make contact with you—forget us. Okay?’

  ‘God protect you, Johnny,’ Azadeh told him anxiously; ‘don’t trust my father, you mustn’t let him. . . mustn’t let him or them take you.’

  Ross smiled and it lit up the room, even for Erikki. ‘No problem—good luck to all of us.’ He waved a devil-may-care salute and opened the door. In a few seconds he and Gueng were gone as quietly as they had arrived. Erikki watched out of the window and saw them only as shadows going down the steps, noting how cleverly and silently the two men used the night, envying Ross his careless elegance of manner and movement.

  Azadeh was standing alongside him, a head smaller, her arm around his waist, also watching. After a moment, his arm went around her shoulders. They waited, expecting shouting and firing, but the night remained undisturbed. The moon came out from the clouds again. No movement anywhere. He glanced at his watch. It was 4.23.

  He looked at the sky, no sign of any dawn yet. At dawn he had to leave, not to the north face of Sabalan but to other radar sites further west. Cimtarga had told him that the CIA still operated certain sites nearer the Turkish border but that today the Khomeini government had ordered them closed, evacuated, and left intact. ‘They’ll never do that,’ Erikki had said. ‘Never.’

  ‘Perhaps, perhaps not.’ Cimtarga had laughed. ‘The moment we get orders, you and I will just fly there with my “tribesmen” and hurry them up. . .’

  Matyer! And matyer Johnny Brighteyes arriving to complicate our lives. Even so, thank all gods for the warning he brought. What’s Abdollah planning for Azadeh? I should kill that old swine and have done with it. Yes, but I can’t, I swore by the Ancient Gods an oath that may not be broken, not to touch her father—as he himself swore by the One God not to hinder us though he’ll find a way to break that oath. Can I do the same? No. An oath is an oath. Like the one you swore to her that you could live happily with her, knowing about him—him—didn’t you? His mind blackened and he was glad of the darkness.

  So the KGB plan to kidnap me. If it’s a real plan I’m done for. Azadeh? What’s that devil Abdollah planning for her now? And now this Johnny arrives to harass us all—I never thought he’d be so good-looking and tough and no man to mix with, him with that sodding great knife, killing knife. . .

  ‘Come back to bed, Erikki,’ she said. ‘It’s very cold, isn’t it?’

  He nodded and followed and got in his side, greatly troubled. When they were back under the great quilt, she snuggled against him. Not enough to provoke a reaction but just enough to appear normal and untouched. ‘How extraordinary to find it was him, Erikki! John Ross—in the street I certainly wouldn’t have recognised him. Oh, that was such a long time ago, I’d forgotten all about him. I’m so pleased you married me, Erikki,’ she said, her voice calm and loving, sure that his mind was grinding her long-lost love to dust. ‘I feel so safe with you—if it hadn’t been for you I would have died of fright.’ She said it as though expecting an answer. But I don’t expect one, my darling, she thought contentedly and sighed.

  He heard her sigh and wondered what it meant, feeling her warmth against him, loathing the rage that possessed him. Was it because she’s sorry she had smiled at her lover as she did? Or is she furious with me—she must have seen my jealousy. Or is she saddened that I have forgotten my oath, or is she hating me because I hate that man? I swear I’ll exorcise him from her. . .

  Ah, Johnny Brighteyes, she was thinking, what ecstasy I enjoyed in your arms, even the first time when it was supposed to hurt, but it never did. Just a pain that became a burning that became a melting that tore away life and gave life back to me again, better than before, oh how so much better than before! And then Erikki. . .

  It was much warmer now under the quilt. Her hand went across his loins. She felt him move slightly and she hid her smile, sure that her warmth was reaching him now, so easy to warm him further. But unwise. Very unwise, for then she knew he would only take her with Johnny in the forefront of his mind, taking her to spite Johnny and not to love her—perhaps even thinking that in her acquiescence she was feeling guilty and was trying to make up for her guilt. Oh, no, my love, I’m not
a foolish child, you’re the guilty one, not me. And though you’d be stronger than usual and more rough, which would normally increase my pleasure, this time it would not, for, like it or not, I would resist even more than you, aware of my other love. So, my darling, it is ten thousand times better to wait. Until the dawn. By then, my darling, if I’m lucky you will have persuaded yourself that you are wrong to hate him and be jealous and you will be my Erikki again. And if you haven’t? Then I will begin again—there are ten thousand ways to heal my man. ‘I love you, Erikki,’ she said and kissed the cloth that covered his chest, turned over, and settled her back against him and went into sleep, smiling.

  Tuesday

  Chapter 11

  Tabriz: 5:12 A.M. In the small hut on the edge of the Khan’s estate, Ross was suddenly awake. He lay motionless, keeping his breathing regular but all of his senses concentrated. Seemingly nothing untoward, just the usual insects and closeness of the room. Through the window he could see that the night was dark, the sky mostly overcast. Across the room on the other pallet, Gueng slept curled up, breathing normally. Because of the cold, both men had gone to bed with their clothes on. Noiselessly, Ross went to the window and searched the darkness. Still nothing. Then, close to his ear, Gueng whispered, ‘What is it, sahib?’

  ‘I don’t know. Probably nothing.’

  Gueng nudged him and pointed. There was no guard in the seat outside on the veranda.

  ‘Perhaps he’s just gone to take a leak.’ There had always been at least one guard. By day or night. Last night there had been two so Ross had made a mock dummy in his bed and left Gueng to divert them and had slipped out of the back window and gone to see Erikki and Azadeh alone. Coming back he had almost stumbled into a patrol but they had been sleepy and unattentive so he had passed them by.

  ‘Take a look out the back window,’ Ross whispered.

  Again they watched and waited. Dawn in about an hour, Ross thought.

  ‘Sahib, perhaps it was just a spirit of the mountain,’ Gueng said softly. In the Land Atop the World it was a superstition that by night, spirits visited the beds of sleeping men and women and children, for good purposes or ill, and that dreams were the stories they whispered.

  The little man kept his eyes and ears feeling out the darkness. ‘I think perhaps we’d better pay attention to the spirits.’ He went back to his bed and pulled on his boots, put the talisman he had kept under his pillow back into his uniform pocket, then put on the tribesman robes and turban. Nimbly he checked his grenades and carbine and settled the rough backpack that contained ammunition, grenades, water and a little food. No need to check his kukri, that was never out of reach, always oiled and cleaned nightly—just before sleep.

  Now Ross was equally ready. But ready for what? he asked himself. It’s hardly five minutes since you awoke and here you are, kukri loose in the scabbard, safety catch off and for what? If Abdollah meant you harm, he would’ve already taken away your weapons—or tried to take them.

  Yesterday afternoon they had heard the 206 take off and shortly afterwards Abdollah Khan had visited them. ‘Ah, Captain, sorry for the delay but the hue and cry is worse than ever. Our Soviet friends have put a very large price on your heads,’ he had said jovially. ‘Enough even to tempt me, perhaps.’

  ‘Let’s hope not, sir. How long will we have to wait?’

  ‘A few days, no more. It seems the Soviets want you very much. I’ve had another deputation from them asking me to help capture you, the first was before you arrived. But don’t worry, I know where the future of Iran lies.’

  Last night Erikki had confirmed about the reward: ‘Today I was near Sabalan, cleaning out another radar site. Some of the workers thought I was Russian—lots of Russian speakers among the border people—and said they hoped they’d be the ones to catch the tall British saboteur and his helper. The reward’s five horses and five camels and fifty sheep. That’s a fortune, and if they know about you that far north you can bet they’re looking here.’

  ‘Were Soviets supervising you?’

  ‘Only Cimtarga, but even then he didn’t seem to be in charge. Just of me and the aircraft. The Russian speakers kept asking me when we were coming over the border in strength.’

  ‘My God—did they have anything to base that on?’

  ‘I doubt it, just more rumours. People here feed on them. I said, “Never”, but this man scoffed and said he knew we had “leagues” of tanks and armies waiting, that he’d seen them. I can’t speak Farsi so I don’t know if he was another KGB plant disguised as a tribesman.’

  ‘The “stuff” you’re carrying? Is it anything important?’

  ‘I don’t know. Some computers and lots of black boxes and papers—they keep me away from it but none of it’s dismantled by experts, just pulled out of walls, wires cut, and hanging loose and stacked carelessly. The only thing the workers’re interested in is stores, cigarettes particularly.’

  They had talked about escaping. Impossible to make plans. Too many imponderables. ‘I don’t know how long they want me to keep flying,’ Erikki had said. ‘This bastard Cimtarga told me Prime Minister Bazargan has ordered the Yanks out of two sites, far to the east, near Turkey, the last they’ve got here, ordered them to evacuate at once and to leave the equipment intact. We’re supposed to fly up there tomorrow.’

  ‘Did you use the 206 today?’

  ‘No. That was Nogger Lane, one of our captains. He came here with us—to take the 206 back to Tehran. Our base manager told me they’ve co-opted Nogger to recce some places where fighting’s going on. When McIver doesn’t hear from us he’ll go into shock and send out a search party. That might give us another chance. What about you?’

  ‘We might sneak off. I’m getting very nervous in that rotten little hut. If we evacuate, we might head for your base and hide out in the forest. If we can, we’ll contact you—but don’t expect us. All right?’

  ‘Yes—but don’t trust anyone at the base—except our two mechanics, Dibble and Arberry.’

  ‘Anything I can do for you?’

  ‘Could you leave me a grenade?’

  ‘Of course, have you ever used one?’

  ‘No, but I know how they work.’

  ‘Good. Here. Pull the pin and count to three—not four—and heave it. Do you need a gun?’

  ‘No, no thanks. I’ve my knife—but the grenade might come in handy.’

  ‘Remember they can be rather messy. I’d better be going. Good luck.’

  Ross had been looking at Azadeh when he had said it, seeing how beautiful she was, so very aware that their time was already written among the stars or on the wind or in the chimes of the bells that were as much a part of the summer High Country as the peaks themselves. Wondering why she never replied to his letters, then the school telling him she had gone. Gone home. Gone. On their last day she had said, ‘All this that has come to pass may not come to pass again, my Johnny Brighteyes.’

  ‘I know. If it doesn’t, I can die happy because I know what love is. Truly. I love you, Azadeh.’

  Last kiss. Then down to his train and waving goodbye, waving until she was lost. Lost for ever. Perhaps we both knew that it was for ever, he thought, waiting here in the darkness of the little hut, trying to decide what to do, to wait more, to sleep or to flee. Maybe it’s as the Khan said and we’re safe here—for the moment. No reason to mistrust him completely. Vien Rosemont was no fool and he said to trust h—

  ‘Sahib!’

  He had heard the stealthy footsteps at the same instant. Both men moved into ambush, one covering the other, both of them glad that the time for action had arrived. The door opened quietly. It was a ghoulish spirit of the mountain standing there peering into the greater darkness of the hut—a shape and vague face. To his astonishment he recognised Azadeh, the chador blending her with the night, her face puffy from crying.

  ‘Johnny?’ she whispered anxi
ously.

  For a moment Ross did not move, gun still levelled and expecting enemies. ‘Azadeh, here, beside the door,’ he whispered back, trying to adjust.

  ‘Quick, follow me, you’re both in danger! Hurry!’ At once she ran off into the night.

  He saw Gueng shake his head uneasily and he hesitated. Then he decided, ‘We go.’ He slid out of the doorway and ran after her, the moonlight small, Gueng following, flanking, automatically covering him. She was waiting beside some trees. Before he reached her, she beckoned him to follow, unerringly led the way through the orchard and around some farm buildings. The snow muffled their way but left tracks and he was very aware of them. He was ten paces behind her, watching the terrain carefully, wondering what danger and why had she been crying and where’s Erikki?

  Clouds were toying with the moon, hiding it mostly. Whenever it came clear, she would stop and motion him to stop and to wait, then she would move on again, using cover well, and he wondered where she had learned woodsmanship then remembered Erikki and his great knife and Finns and Finland—land of lakes and forests and mountains and trolls and hunting. Concentrate, fool, time enough to let your mind wander later, not now when you’re endangering everyone! Concentrate!

  His eyes searched, expecting trouble, wanting it to begin. Soon they were near the perimeter wall. The wall was ten feet high and made of hewn stone, with a wide, empty swathe between it and the trees. Again she motioned him to stop in cover and walked forward into the open, seeking a special place. Finding it without trouble, she beckoned him. Before he was beside her she was already climbing, her feet fitting easily into the notches and cracks with sufficient hand holds, some natural, some cleverly embedded to make the climb easy. The moon came into a bare patch of sky and he felt naked and climbed more quickly. When he reached the top she was already halfway down the other side. He slithered over and found some footholds, ducked down to wait for Gueng. His anxiety mounted until he saw the shadow darting over the ground, reaching the wall safely.