newspapers in england were equally confident the iranian situation'd normalize itself quickly now. provided the soviets didn't make an overt move. and they had been warned. it was hands off, americans and soviets, so now iranians can settle their affairs in their own way. it's right that whoever's in power needs stability urgently, and revenue and that means oil. yes. everything's going to be all right. she believes it and if she believed everything would be wonderful once the shah was overthrown and khomeini back, why shouldn't 1?
ah, sharazad, how i've missed you.
it had been impossible to phone her from england. phones in iran had never been particularly good, given the massive overload of too-fast industrialisation. but in the past eight months since the troubles began, the almost constant telecommunication strikes had made internal and external communication worse and worse and now it was almost nonexistent. when lochart was at aberdeen hq for his biannual medical he had managed to send her a telex after eight hours of trying. he had sent it care of duncan mclver in tehran where she was now. you can't say much in a telex except see you soon, miss you, love.
not long now, my darling, and th
"tom?"
"oh, hi, jean-luc? what?"
"it's going to snow soon."
"yes."
jean-luc was thin-faced, with a big gallic nose and brown eyes, spare like all the pilots who had serious medicals every six months with no excuses for overweight. "who fired at us, tom'?"
lochart shrugged. "i saw no one. did you?"
"no. i hope it was just one crazy." jean-luc's eyes bored into him. "for a moment i thought i was back in algiers, these mountains are not so different, back in the air force fighting the fellagha and the fln, may god curse them forever." he ground the cigarette stub out with his heel. "i've been in one civil war and hated it. at least then i had bombs and guns. i don't want to be a civilian caught in another with nothing to rely on except how fast i can run."
"it was just a lone crazy."
"i think we're going to have to deal with a lot of crazies, tom. ever since i left france i've had a bad feeling. it's worse since i got back. we've been to war, you and 1, most of the others haven't. we've a nose, you and 1, and we're in for bad trouble."
"no, you're just tired."
"yes, that's true. andy was really bullish?"
"very. he sends his best and said to keep it up!"
jean-luc laughed and stifled a yawn. "madonna, i'm starving. what's scot planned for our homecoming?"
"he's got a welcome home sign up over the hangar."
"for dinner, mon vieux. dinner."
"scot said he and some villagers went hunting so he's got a haunch of venison and a couple of hares ready for your tender mercies and the barbecue'll be all set to go."
jean-luc's eyes lit up. "cood. listen, i've brought brie, garlic, a whole
kilo, smoked ham, anchovies, onions, also a few kilos of pasta, cans of tomato puree, and my wife gave me a new amatriciana recipe from gianni of st. jean that is merely incredible. and the wine."
lochart felt his juices quicken. jean-luc's hobby was cooking and he was inspired when he wanted to be. "i brought cans of everything i could think of from fortnums and some whisky. hey, i've missed your cooking." and your company, he thought. when they had met at dubai they had shaken hands and he had asked, "how was leave?"
"1 was in france," jean-luc had said grandly.
lochart had envied him his simplicity. england had not been good, the weather, food, leave, the kids, her, christmas much as he had tried. never mind. i'm back and soon i'll be in tehran. "you'll cook tonight, jean-luc?"
"of course. how can i live without proper food?"
lochart laughed. "like the rest of the world." they watched rodrigues still working hard. the sound of the jets was muted, the rotors
ah, sharazad, how i've missed you.
it had been impossible to phone her from england. phones in iran had never been particularly good, given the massive overload of too-fast industrialisation. but in the past eight months since the troubles began, the almost constant telecommunication strikes had made internal and external communication worse and worse and now it was almost nonexistent. when lochart was at aberdeen hq for his biannual medical he had managed to send her a telex after eight hours of trying. he had sent it care of duncan mclver in tehran where she was now. you can't say much in a telex except see you soon, miss you, love.
not long now, my darling, and th
"tom?"
"oh, hi, jean-luc? what?"
"it's going to snow soon."
"yes."
jean-luc was thin-faced, with a big gallic nose and brown eyes, spare like all the pilots who had serious medicals every six months with no excuses for overweight. "who fired at us, tom'?"
lochart shrugged. "i saw no one. did you?"
"no. i hope it was just one crazy." jean-luc's eyes bored into him. "for a moment i thought i was back in algiers, these mountains are not so different, back in the air force fighting the fellagha and the fln, may god curse them forever." he ground the cigarette stub out with his heel. "i've been in one civil war and hated it. at least then i had bombs and guns. i don't want to be a civilian caught in another with nothing to rely on except how fast i can run."
"it was just a lone crazy."
"i think we're going to have to deal with a lot of crazies, tom. ever since i left france i've had a bad feeling. it's worse since i got back. we've been to war, you and 1, most of the others haven't. we've a nose, you and 1, and we're in for bad trouble."
"no, you're just tired."
"yes, that's true. andy was really bullish?"
"very. he sends his best and said to keep it up!"
jean-luc laughed and stifled a yawn. "madonna, i'm starving. what's scot planned for our homecoming?"
"he's got a welcome home sign up over the hangar."
"for dinner, mon vieux. dinner."
"scot said he and some villagers went hunting so he's got a haunch of venison and a couple of hares ready for your tender mercies and the barbecue'll be all set to go."
jean-luc's eyes lit up. "cood. listen, i've brought brie, garlic, a whole
kilo, smoked ham, anchovies, onions, also a few kilos of pasta, cans of tomato puree, and my wife gave me a new amatriciana recipe from gianni of st. jean that is merely incredible. and the wine."
lochart felt his juices quicken. jean-luc's hobby was cooking and he was inspired when he wanted to be. "i brought cans of everything i could think of from fortnums and some whisky. hey, i've missed your cooking." and your company, he thought. when they had met at dubai they had shaken hands and he had asked, "how was leave?"
"1 was in france," jean-luc had said grandly.
lochart had envied him his simplicity. england had not been good, the weather, food, leave, the kids, her, christmas much as he had tried. never mind. i'm back and soon i'll be in tehran. "you'll cook tonight, jean-luc?"
"of course. how can i live without proper food?"
lochart laughed. "like the rest of the world." they watched rodrigues still working hard. the sound of the jets was muted, the rotors
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