Whirlwind Read Free

of all iranian helicopter operators, so the maze of cables, pipes, and fuel lines was neat, clean, and optimum. but suddenly rodrigues pointed. there was a deep score on the crankcase where a bullet had ricocheted. carefully they backtracked the line of the bullet. again he pointed into the maze, this time using a flash. one of the oil lines was nicked. when he brought out his hand it was oil heavy. "shit," he said.
     
     
"shut her down, rod?" lochart shouted.
     
     
"hell no, there may be more of those trigger-happy bastards around, an'
     
     
this's no place to spend the night." rodriguespulled out a piece of waste and a spanner. "you check aft, tom."
     
     
lochart left him to it, uneasily looked around for possible shelter in case they had to overnight. over the other side of the clearing, jean-luc was casually peeing against a fallen tree, a cigarette in his mouth. "don't get frostbite, jeanluc!" he called out and saw him wave the stream good-naturedly.
     
     
"hey, tom."
     
     
it was jordon beckoning. at once he ducked under the tail boom to join the mechanic. his heart skipped a beat. jordon also had an inspection panel off. there were two bullet holes in the fuselage, just over the tanks. jesus, just a split second later and the tanks would have blown, he thought. if i hadn't shoved the collective down we'd all've bought it. absolutely. but for that we'd be sprayed over the mountainside. and for what?
     
     
jordon tugged him and pointed again, following the line of the bullets. there was another score on the rotor column. "how the effer missed the offing blades i'm effed if i know," he shouted, the red wool hat that he always wore pulled down over his ears.
     
     
"it wasn't our time."
     
     
"wot?"
     
     
"nothing. have you found anything else?"
     
     
"not offing yet. you all right, tom?"
     
     
"sure."
     
     
a sudden crash and they all whirled in fright, but it was only a huge tree limb, overloaded with snow, tumbling earthward.
     
     
"espece de con," jean-luc said and peered up into the sky, very conscious of the falling light, then shrugged to himself, lit another cigarette, and wandered off, stamping his feet against the cold.
     
     
jordon found nothing else amiss on his side. the minutes ticked by. rodrigues was still muttering and cursing, one arm reaching awkwardly into the bowels of the compartment. behind him the others were huddled in a group, watching, well away from the rotors. it was noisy and uncomfortable, the light good but not for long. they still had twenty miles to go and no guidance systems in these mountains other than the small homer at their base which sometimes worked and sometimes didn't. "come on, for christ's sake," someone muttered.
     
     
yes, lochart thought, hiding his disquiet.
     
     
at shiraz the outgoing crew of two pilots and two mechanics they were replacing had hurriedly waved good-bye and rushed for their company 125 an eight-place, twin-engined private jet airplane for transportation or special freighting the same jet that had brought them from dubai's international
     
     
airport across the gulf and a month's leave, lochart and jordon in england, jean-luc in france, and rodrigues from a hunting trip in kenya. "what the hell's the hurry?" lochart had asked as the small twin jet closed its doors and taxied off.
     
     
"the airport's only still partially operational, everyone's still on strike, but not to worry," scot gavallan had said. "they've got to take off before the officious, bloody little burk in the tower who thinks he's god's gift to iranian air traffic control cancels their bloody clearance. we'd better get the lead out too before he starts to sod us around. get your gear aboard."
     
     
"what about customs?"
     
     
"they're still on strike, old boy. along with everyone else banks're still closed. never mind, we'll be normal in a week or so."
     
     
"merde," jean-luc said. "the french papers say iran is une catastrophe with khomeini and his