Escape (The Asian Saga) by James Clavell

Author:James Clavell [Clavell, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

At Tehran Airport: 6:40 P.M. McIver watched Talbot and Andrew Gavallan through his office window. Gavallan was a big, imposing man and had just arrived from Al Shargaz in the 125 for an urgent conference.

He saw Talbot drive off. Gavallan 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 no women. ‘Mac, let’s take a walk.’

‘Sure,’ he said, seeing the gravity.

They had had no time to talk privately yet.

The two men went out on to the freight apron. A JAL jumbo roared into the sky. ‘They say there’re still a thousand Japanese techs kicking their heels at Iran-Toda,’ McIver said absently.

‘Their consortium’s taking a hell of a beating. Today’s Financial Times said their override’s already half a billion dollars, no way they can get finished this year and no way to pull out—that and the world shipping glut must be hurting Toda badly.’ Gavallan saw there was no one near. ‘At least our capital investment’s mobile, Mac, most of it.’

McIver looked up at him, seeing the craggy face, grey bushy eyebrows, brown eyes. ‘That’s the reason for “imperative conference”?’

‘One of them,’ Gavallan said. ‘Talbot told me, following the advice of our fellow board member, Ali Kia, they intend nationalising all foreign aircraft companies, particularly ours. That means we lose the lot—unless we do something about it. Genny’s right, you know. We’ve got to do it ourselves.’

‘I don’t think it’s possible. Did she tell you that?’

‘Of course, but I think we can. Try this on for size: say today’s Day One. All non-essential personnel begin to quit Iran for reassignment or on leave; we get out all the spares we can—either by our 125 or on regular airlines when they start up again—as obsolete, redundant, for repair or as personal baggage. Zagros Three retreats to Kowiss, Tabriz closes “temporarily” and Erikki’s 212 goes to Al Shargaz, then to Nigeria along with Tom Lochart from Zagros, and one 212 from Kowiss. You close HQ in Tehran and relocate at Al Shargaz to run operations and control our three remaining bases of Lengeh, Kowiss and Bandar-e Delam “pending return to normality” from there—we’re all still under our government orders to evacuate all nonessential personnel.’

‘Right, but th—‘

‘Let me finish, laddie. Say we can do the prep and planning and all that in thirty days. Day Thirty-one’s D-day. At an exact time on D-day—or D plus One or Two depending on weather or Christ knows what—we radio a code word from Al Shargaz. Simultaneously all remaining pilots and choppers take off, head across the Gulf for Al Shargaz. There we remove the rotors, stow the choppers into 747 freighters I’ve chartered from somewhere, they’ll fly to Aberdeen and Bob’s your bloody uncle,’ Gavallan ended with a beam.

McIver stared at him blankly. ‘You’re crazy! You’re stark raving bonkers, Chinaboy. It’s got so many holes in it. . . you’re bonkers.’

‘Name one hole.’

‘I can give you fifty, firs—’

‘One at a time, laddie, and remember your bloody pressure.

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