The Persian Price (29 page)

‘You will understand, sir, that I went to Tokyo without consulting my Board in London. It seemed to me that if we were to meet the Minister's requirements, we had to bring in financial support from a new source or a new refinery for Imshan would have been impossible. Our own cash flow could not support the refinery as well as the development of the field.'

‘I see that,' the Shah said, ‘but since the advantages I mentioned are so enormous to your company personally, and to the Western world in general, I knew this difficulty would be overcome. I assured the Minister on this point. I had no doubt, Mr Field, that an offer such as I made to you of a discount on your share of the oil would ensure that you find a way to agree to my terms and build the refinery which Imshan needs.'

‘You were quite right, sir,' Logan said. ‘After my discussion with the Japanese Government I was able to conclude a provisional agreement with them and oil importers for the full financing in return for a guaranteed oil supply for the ten years after full production is achieved. That will build the refinery.'

‘Good,' the Shah said. ‘That is the news I hoped to hear from you. When the Minister was assassinated, there was some doubt about your sincerity in the matter. Understandable in view of the discoveries Colonel Ardalan made from the terrorist and from the Syrian Homsi. I am completely satisfied with your report, Mr Field.'

‘Thank you, sir,' Logan said.

He had thought the Shah relaxed; he saw now that it had been an attitude adopted for the interview. The man was coiled like a spring. He spoke faultless English, having learned it in his teens; Western languages do not come easily to the Iranian ear. Educated at Le Rosey in Switzerland and widely travelled in his youth, there was a deceptive period in his life when he had seemed another Eastern playboy, until the British deposed his father in 1941 and placed him on the throne in expectation of a puppet who could be managed from Whitehall. Thirty-four years later, Logan Field faced the product of that uneasy assumption of a throne. He had given him his refinery, produced by his own efforts the crucial agreement which permitted both Iran and Imperial Oil to get what they wanted. Mohammed Riza Pahlavi had loved his second wife, the Empress Soraya. For an Eastern king, with an unsecured succession, he had shown considerable sentiment towards his childless consort, even after he divorced her. Logan had never given anything in a business negotiation without trying, and usually succeeding, in getting something back. The idea came very suddenly to him, as he looked at the head of the Iranian state, a man like himself and a man who had just been accorded everything he had demanded.

‘Sir,' he said slowly, ‘you were kind enough to express your sympathy over my wife.'

He could feel James going stiff on the sofa beside him. The Shah nodded.

‘You know that the price of her release is our withdrawal from Imshan?'

‘I believe that is what the Syrian admitted under questioning,' the Shah said.

‘I realize,' Logan went on, ‘that I made a serious initial mistake. When Homsi first approached me I should have come direct to you with the problem.'

‘It would have been wiser,' was the answer.

James watched him, desperately trying to see what lay behind the tinted glasses. He could distinguish nothing.

‘Although,' the Shah continued in his quiet voice, ‘I don't see how I could have helped you, Mr Field. Your wife was not kidnapped in Iran. On the other hand, my Minister Khorvan might still have been alive.'

‘I know that,' Logan said. He sounded genuinely humble. ‘I regret it very much. But I was told that unless I kept the blackmail secret my wife would be killed. I didn't think I had a choice.'

‘I appreciate that. It was a difficult decision.'

‘Sir,' Logan leaned forward towards the figure in the armchair, ‘it is possible to save my wife's life even now, if you will help me.'

The Shah took, a cigarette box, opened it, took one out and offered it to Field and James. It was a gesture that robbed Logan's last words of their dramatic effect.

‘I would be glad to, if it
were
possible,' he said calmly.

‘It is possible,' Logan said. ‘I will lodge my agreement with the Tokyo government with Minister Khorvan's successor. There can be no doubt about our sincerity in concluding this agreement with the National Oil Company here. We need Imshan desperately. You know this even better than I do, sir, because I'm just a businessman, not a politician. But if you will allow me to make a public statement withdrawing from Imshan, then my wife will be released.'

‘I don't understand your proposal, Mr Field.'

‘Let me appear to give in to their terms. Then when my wife is safe, we resume the final negotiations and the deal goes through. It could be a question of a few days, no more.'

‘As I understand it,' the Shah said, ‘you wish to publicly withdraw from Imshan and then resume when your domestic situation has been resolved?'

He shook his head and removed his concealing glasses for a moment. The eyes were very dark and cold.

‘I'm sorry, Mr Field. It's an impossible proposal. I cannot consider allowing any Western company to break off negotiations with us and then come back. It is not consistent with my policy to re-admit anyone to Imshan if they have once withdrawn. I sympathize with your dilemma but I must advise you to divorce all personal considerations from your dealings with Iranian oil.'

He got up, quite casually, and held out his hand to Logan.

‘I am very glad about your deal with the Japanese,' he said. Then he turned to James. ‘It was nice to see you, Mr Kelly.'

The audience was over. They went out and the Chamberlain was at the door to see them though the hall. They walked down the steps side by side and didn't speak. Outside the gates Logan saw the blue Rolls Royce. There was a shadow in the back and it was Janet.

‘I tried,' he said suddenly to James. ‘There was just a chance he might have agreed to it.'

‘No chance at all,' James said. ‘Why the hell should he bail you out? It's your choice. We're going round to Ardalan's office now. I told them to bring my own car. I'll follow behind you.'

Janet put her arms round Logan and kissed him.

‘Darling, thank God you're back! How did it go?'

‘Fine,' Logan said. He withdrew to his own side of the car. ‘He's got what he wanted.'

He didn't want to talk about it. His choice. Kelly had kept on saying that from the beginning. Choose between the oil-field and Eileen.

‘Darling,' Janet said gently, ‘I've got some bad news for you. Ardalan thinks Eileen may be dead.'

‘What?' He swung round on her. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Homsi died under interrogation,' Janet said. ‘Ardalan thinks they may have killed Eileen by now. If it is true, they did it because they knew Homsi would give everything away. So it's not your fault. You mustn't blame yourself.'

She took his hand and pressed it. He pulled it away from her and stared out of the window.

‘We're going to their office to listen to a tape. I'm afraid it's just a waste of time. Don't be upset. Please. It's not your fault if the worst has happened.'

He didn't want to listen to Janet. He didn't want to hear that calm reasonable tone, telling him that his wife was very likely dead and reminding him that his only link with the kidnappers had gone. He felt sick with shock. He remembered that chill injunction from the Shah. He had to divorce himself from any personal considerations. So long as he held the power over the negotiations he could achieve that balance; he could do the thing at which he was an admitted master. Juggle a dozen possibilities in the air without letting one drop, bluff and promise and somehow come out with the advantage on his side. But not now. The Syrian was dead, the secret was out. And if Janet was right and Ardalan's judgement not at fault, then Eileen was already lying dead in some cellar. He leaned his head against the window glass. It couldn't be over. It couldn't have happened so quickly before he had time to make a final decision.

‘Darling,' Janet said and, reaching over, touched him.

‘For Christ's sake,' Logan said without turning round, ‘leave me alone.'

At one point on the journey James's car had overtaken them. When they went into the
SAVAK
headquarters and up to the Colonel's office, he was already there. The Colonel had given him a drink. He offered one to Logan and Janet which both of them refused.

‘Well,' Logan said. ‘I've heard the news. You arrest the man who knows where my wife is being kept hidden and you bloody well kill him without finding out!'

The Colonel waited a moment. He could appreciate the Englishman's distress. He was the type of man who would have to blame disaster upon someone else.

‘Mr Logan,' he said patiently, ‘I'm afraid you cannot hold me responsible. You did not tell me the truth. You had every opportunity and instead you treated with terrorists who were acting against the interests of Iran and you persisted in lying to me. So did Mr Kelly, who I am sure was acting on your instructions. If you had dealt honestly with me, Mahmoud Khorvan would have been alive today. And so might your wife. So don't try and lay the blame for this ugly mess onto me.'

‘You're talking as if it was certain Mrs Field was dead,' Janet said. ‘Can't you see it's distressing Mr Field? There's no proof …'

‘Don't be a bloody fool,' Logan said angrily. ‘He knows perfectly well that the minute his thugs arrested Homsi, the Syrians knew the whole plan was finished. I don't know what the hell you asked me to come here for. I can't do anything to save my wife, even if there was a hope of her still being alive!'

‘The Colonel asked you to listen to a tape,' James Kelly said. ‘We asked Homsi where Eileen was hidden, just before he died. He said something but it doesn't make sense. Colonel Ardalan is doing his best to help us.'

‘I will play it to you,' Ardalan said. ‘See if you can understand what it means. To me it is merely gibberish.'

He switched on a portable tape recorder and re-ran to a certain point. James's voice came over clearly. ‘Ask him where Mrs Field is being held.' Another voice repeated the question. A dreadful gurgling yell followed a few seconds later. Janet gasped. The same voice asked again. The words were a jumble when they came through; the voice was slurred and thick. There was a garbled plea for mercy, with English and Arabic intermingled, and then quite clearly the name, ‘Mrs Field', followed by a single Arabic word,
‘kwayyis'.
Then a groan that ended in a sigh.

‘That was the last thing he said.' Ardalan switched the machine off. ‘Mrs Field,
kwayyis.'

‘What does it mean?' Logan said.

The Colonel shrugged. ‘Pleasant, nice, sweet. It makes no sense.'

‘He was very confused,' James said.' ‘I'm afraid it's useless. It was some association of ideas between a woman and being sweet and nice.'

Logan looked at the Colonel.

‘What did you use on him?'

‘Electrodes. Unfortunately prolonged shocks over a period do disorient the mind. But he told us all about the plot to prevent Imshan being developed by a Western company; there was strong Soviet influence at work as well as Palestinian. A very serious threat to the independence of my country has been averted, Mr Field. His Imperial Majesty has been fully informed.'

‘I know,' Logan said. ‘He told me.'

‘Colonel,' Janet said suddenly, ‘could you put that word “
kwayyis”
into a sentence for me?'

‘Al hawa kwayyis ktir.
It is nice weather.' He looked at her and shrugged. ‘The word doesn't mean anything, Mrs Armstrong. It was just the wanderings of someone nearly dead.'

‘Of course it doesn't mean anything,' Logan said bitterly. ‘You'd torn the bastard to pieces! If you'd gone a bit more slowly with him …'

‘Please!' Ardalan held up a hand. ‘Don't try and tell me how to do my job. We got everything of importance out of him.'

‘Important to you …' Logan turned on him angrily.

‘Wait a minute,' Janet said. ‘For God's sake, I'm trying to think … Sweet, nice … nice weather … Colonel … you say he was very confused …'

‘More dead than alive,' James broke in. ‘He didn't know what he was saying.'

‘Perhaps he didn't know how to say it,' Janet said slowly. ‘Perhaps he couldn't think of the English word so he used the nearest Arabic equivalent. Supposing it wasn't an adjective.
Nice
– Nice in the South of France!'

The Colonel raised his eyebrows.

‘That is possible,' he said. Then he shook his head. ‘But not very likely.'

‘Why not?' James demanded. ‘Janet could be right. He was trying to answer your question. Where are they holding Mrs. Field?
Nice.
For Christ's sake, it's worth a try!'

‘It's too far-fetched,' Logan said angrily. ‘You're going into the realms of bloody fantasy. Nice, in the South of France – nobody would take her there!'

‘On the other hand,' Ardalan interrupted him, ‘it is not as fantastic as all that. There is a large Arab work force in that part of France. I think we should ask Interpol to investigate. They will know if there are any suspects in the area.'

‘She's dead,' Logan burst out at them, ‘I know it.' He glared at Janet. ‘I wish you'd mind your own bloody business!'

‘I think the lady has been very helpful,' the Colonel protested. ‘I will send a telex through immediately and see what the Interpol reaction is. If they consider it a possibility, Mr Field, I will arrange for you to be flown out. Whatever has happened, you will want to be there.'

Logan didn't answer him.

‘We'll wait at your house,' he said to James. He walked down ahead of them, leaving Janet to follow with James beside her. Outside the building he turned to them. ‘You can both wait at Shemiran,' he said. ‘I'm going to the office. I've got work to do.' He got inside the Rolls and it drove off.