The Persian Price (13 page)

Time was not on their side; as Logan pointed out in one explosive meeting, there was a Board meeting scheduled for two weeks' time in London. Something had to be presented to them which would pass; if the present situation became known, there would be opposition that might even defeat Logan's persuasive powers. They had to have some indication of solid financial support from the Japanese before a whisper of the outrageous demand for the refinery reached London.

Equally the Iranian government had to be reassured that Imperial Oil was working on the problem and was optimistic of an acceptable solution. Added to which the British Embassy in Tehran had informed James privately, through the unofficial channel open to an ex-Foreign Office member, that the Russian technicians were still in the city and were remaining on advice from Khorvan himself.

That night the party in honour of the Minister was taking place at James's house. He had left the office after lunch to supervise the arrangements; he was asking Logan what explanation could be given for Eileen's absence, when Logan took a call from Tokyo and there was no question of interrupting him. James had a flair for giving parties; he had learned the art in Embassies abroad, when his help had been enlisted by various official wives. He had an instinct for entertaining people which caused a lot of envy among his bachelor colleagues. It was often said that James didn't need a wife to make a party go. He had decided to give the reception in the garden; a lot of extra plants and potted shrubs had been brought in; there were two big tables set under the trees, crates of whisky, gin and champagne, and quantities of fresh fruit juice for the teetotal among their Iranian guests. As a compliment to the guest of honour, the flower arrangements were in the Iranian national colours of green, red and white. As a bonus, and again through the good offices of the British Embassy, James had organized a display of fireworks as the climax of the evening. He had checked everything and decided there was time to have a leisurely bath and change even before Logan returned, when the houseboy told him there was a telephone call.

Imagining it might be the call to Ireland, James raced back to the house. It was an unfamiliar voice, heavily accented.

‘Mr Kelly? Good evening. My name is Saiid Homsi. I am from the Syrian Embassy.'

James scowled. He had no contact with the Syrians and no wish to establish any. He had really thought it might be Ireland …

‘Yes?' His tone was not encouraging. ‘What can I do for you?'

‘I think there is something I can do for you,' the caller said. ‘I have some very important information for your Mr Field.'

‘In that case,' James said, ‘I suggest you speak direct to him.'

‘Unfortunately I cannot do that. It might be dangerous. I need your help, Mr Kelly.'

James hesitated. Dangerous. He didn't like that word.

‘I don't understand,' he said. ‘Can you explain, please. Do you want me to pass a message to Mr Field?'

‘No,' the man said. ‘No, I have to speak to him myself. Believe me, it is very important. I have something to tell Mr Field and the matter is very personal. Very delicate. Would it be possible to meet him at your reception this evening?'

‘Mr Homsi, I don't believe we've met. What is your position in the Embassy? And why can't you make an appointment with Mr Field in his office?' James was listening carefully; he spoke calmly, trying to decide what to do. Orientals loved intrigue, but this was extreme.

‘I am a trade attaché here, Mr Kelly. I am not an important person. But my message for Mr Field is important. I cannot be seen to approach him; all of us are watched here by Colonel Ardalan's men. What I have to tell Mr Field can only be whispered in his ear in a public place like your party. May I present myself tonight?'

‘Yes,' James said. For a moment he had hesitated. ‘Yes, please come. Introduce yourself to me and I will bring you to Mr Field.' He heard a murmured ‘thank you' and then the line buzzed clear.

By the time he was ready to receive his guests he had thought of a dozen possibilities for the extraordinary call and rejected them all. He wished profoundly that it had no connection with the Syrians. They were the least welcome Embassy in Tehran and the object of the Secret Police's suspicion as a headquarters for subversives from within.

He was surprised to learn from the servants that Logan had not returned to change. The explanation was obvious but it infuriated him. He had gone to bring Janet to the party. Entertaining her, and seeing her in Eileen's place, was going to tax his good manners very hard. When Logan's car swept up to the front door twenty minutes before the party was due to begin, he deliberately went to the table and got himself a drink. When he turned round Janet Armstrong was advancing on him. She looked very cool and smart, wearing a long dress of pale green; he saw a handsome emerald and diamond brooch on her shoulder and guessed it came from Logan. Logan was behind her.

‘Congratulations,' she said. ‘It all looks marvellous. Doesn't it, Logan? You certainly manage well without a wife!'

James gave her a look of plain dislike.

‘What will you have to drink? Logan?'

‘Scotch,' was the answer. ‘Soda and plenty of ice.'

Janet came back and hooked her arm through his.

‘I'll have the same,' she said.

James gave the houseboy the order and a waiter came forward with the glasses on a tray. A silence hung over the three of them. James made no attempt to break it. To hell with his diplomatic training. He hated the woman and he despised Logan for flaunting their relationship. Logan either didn't notice or couldn't be bothered to make conversation. Janet faced James and smiled. She knew he disliked her, although she had no idea it was more than a male antipathy towards a successful woman. His opinion didn't interest her. He was extremely clever and Logan thought highly of him but he wasn't her type. He was too much of a gentleman. She liked a little roughness round the edges. She hugged Logan tightly for a moment and then let him go. They had been to bed before coming and she felt very close to him.

‘It's a lovely evening,' she said. ‘I'm sure the party will be a great success.'

Logan would expect her to carry the situation and she was too self-confident to be outfaced by James.

‘I expect it'll be a bit of a drinking marathon, so I'd better eat some of those delicious things over there.'

She walked over to the table and began to pick among the canapés. James went over to Logan. He had decided to tell him about the telephone call and give him the choice of meeting the man or not. Logan listened, sipping his whisky.

‘What the hell can it be? We've never touched the Syrians with a ten-foot pole. Have you any idea, James?'

‘None,' James said. ‘But if you're going to talk to him you'd better be very careful. This might be some game thought up by Khorvan; something they could use with the Shah to discredit us.'

‘Trafficking with subversives – could be. But if I don't talk to him I might be making a mistake. And he doesn't seem anxious to compromise himself either. Otherwise he'd have come to the office. I'd better talk to him and find out what it's all about.'

‘All right,' James said. He could see Janet walking back to them. ‘But I think you ought to safeguard yourself. I've asked Ardalan tonight. He loves parties; he came to the other one. I'll mention this to him. That way no one can accuse you of going behind the Government's back.'

‘Right. Do that. If this is some trick of Khorvan's, it'll blow back in his face.'

Janet came and stood beside him. James saw the first car coming into the main drive.

‘Have you heard from Eileen?' he said.

‘No,' Logan answered. ‘And I don't expect to. Janet will look after Khorvan. But the news from Tokyo is very encouraging.'

‘Oh?' James showed no enthusiasm.

‘Paterson called this afternoon – you were there, weren't you? Anyway he said he's had strong reactions from the importers. He's seeing the Deputy Prime Minister the day after tomorrow. If he gives his blessing, I'll fly out and see the Prime Minister next week. I'm bloody hopeful, James. I think we're going to pull it off!'

‘You will if anyone can,' Janet said. They stood together to receive the guests. It seemed to James as if Eileen Field had never existed. He decided quite calmly, while talking to a director of the Bank of Iran, that he really hated Logan.

Soon after seven he saw Colonel Ardalan in the crowd. He had brought his pretty wife with him; Iranians tended to leave their women at home when attending European parties. James went up to him and the two men shook hands. They had met on many occasions and James found the Colonel an attractive personality. It was difficult to believe the stories about his methods.

‘A charming party, Mr Kelly,' Ardalan said. His wife nodded and smiled. She didn't speak good English and was shy of exposing it.

‘Thank you,' James said. ‘Could we have a word in private – just over here.'

They stood together under a plane tree, which Iranians called chenar; there was no one near them.

‘Something rather unusual has come up,' James explained. ‘My chairman felt you ought to know about it. He's very anxious not to do anything contrary to the wishes of the Government.'

‘Naturally,' the Colonel said. ‘Please let me help in any way I can. What is this unusual occurrence?'

‘I received a telephone call,' James said, ‘from a man calling himself Saiid Homsi. Says he's a trade man at the Syrian Embassy.'

‘I've heard of him,' Ardalan said mildly. ‘What did he want?'

‘To come here and speak to Mr Field. Privately. He said he had something to tell him. Mr Field felt he'd better see the man and find out what it's all about, but we wanted you to know.'

‘I appreciate that,' the Colonel said. ‘I wish more of our European expatriates showed such good sense. And good will.' He smiled at James. ‘My function is to protect the State, Mr Kelly. I am also happy to protect our friends, whoever they may be. Syrians are dangerous people. Let Mr Field see this man and then if you will tell me what he wanted, that would be the wisest way.'

‘We'll do that,' James said.

Colonel Ardalan laid a hand on his shoulder for a moment.

‘I hear rumours,' he said, ‘that your negotiations for Imshan are not proceeding smoothly. I hope you won't be discouraged. His Imperial Majesty wants a British firm to develop the oil field.'

‘I am very happy to hear that,' James answered. ‘Minister Khorvan drives a hard bargain. We are trying to meet his terms.'

‘I hope you succeed,' Ardalan said. ‘I see him over there, talking to the lady in the green dress.'

‘Yes,' James said. ‘She's the chairman's assistant.'

‘I don't see Mrs Field,' the Colonel said.

‘She's in England.' James moved away, the Colonel following. ‘As soon as this man Homsi makes himself known, I'll take him over to Mr Field. I'll let you know what happens.'

‘I will be obliged,' the Colonel said. He went back to join his wife. The party was going under its own impetus. The garden was crowded with people and there was a roar of conversation. People were eating the food and waiters with trays of drinks slipped in and out. James stood aside and listened. It was a success. Logan had Khorvan in a group composed of Janet Armstrong and the assistant resident director; the Minister was laughing. The first hour was the most important. If they were bored, the Iranians left early. If they stayed on for the buffet supper, then it meant they had enjoyed the party and might stay until the early hours. There were a number of women and some of the senior Iranian officials had brought their wives. There were couture dresses and lavish jewels; the new rich among them adored to make a display of wealth and the wives glittered like Christmas trees. It pained James to see some of the British Embassy ladies looking dowdy; he thought how Eileen would have redeemed them all had she been there. The steely elegance of Janet Armstrong didn't count with him. There was no grace about her, no natural style. He felt a little tug on his left sleeve.

‘Mr Kelly? Good evening.'

It was a slight man, very swarthy with bright black eyes.

‘I am Saiid Homsi.'

James had planned the manner of Field's meeting with the Syrian. It couldn't take place in the open with dozens of highly placed Iranians as witnesses. He didn't waste any time.

‘Come with me, please,' he said. He went into the house with the Syrian following. The drawing room opened onto the garden. James turned to the man.

‘Wait in here. I'll tell Mr Field. He'll come in a moment.'

He gave Logan the message in a quick aside. He saw Khorvan watching him and he eased himself into Logan's place.

‘Minister, I haven't had time to do more than welcome you. I hope you have everything you want.'

‘Everything, thank you,' Khorvan said. He was enjoying himself. The food was excellent; he loved the rich, spiced titbits which were a feature of Iranian parties, and the beautiful setting had put him into a genial mood. He disliked Logan Field but he found him stimulating. They had spent some time in semi-friendly sparring; Khorvan was very sensitive where his own feelings were concerned. The slightest condescension or tactlessness would never be forgiven, but Logan had trod with feline delicacy over this thin crust of self-esteem. Khorvan would never like him, because he was almost a symbolic enemy, but he enjoyed his company.

‘Everything,' he repeated to James, ‘except that I miss my hostess. I am very disappointed not to see her.'

James hoped that Janet had heard. A fractional change in her expression satisfied him that she had.

‘Mr Field said their daughter was ill, and she couldn't leave England. I am sorry to hear it.' Khorvan was needling him a little and James knew it. The absence of Eileen Field was only important in that it gave him an excuse to carp at his host and put him on the defensive.