things come to an end. He pushed his luck too far and was forced to abdicate. There was a provisional government for a while, and then the present Shah took over. Now, he was a really bright boy. He wanted to drag this woebegone country into the twentieth century by the scruff of its neck, but he found that you can’t have industrialism in a country where seventy-five per cent of the population are opium addicts. So he clamped down hard and fast, and I doubt if you can find an ounce of illegal opium in the country today.’
Tozier looked baffled. ‘Then what is Speering doing here?’
‘That’s the problem,’ said Warren blandly. ‘But I don’t propose asking him outright.’
‘No,’ said Tozier pensively. ‘But we stick to him closer than his shirt.’
A waiter came and and said enquiringly, ‘Mistair Warren?’
‘I’m Warren.’
‘A message for you, sair.’
‘Thank you,’ Warren raised his eyebrows at Tozier as he tipped the waiter. A minute later he said, ‘It’s from Lane. Speering has given up his reservation—he’s leaving tomorrow. Lane doesn’t know where he’s going, but his jeep has been serviced and there are water cans in the back. What do you suppose that means?’
‘He’s leaving Tehran,’ said Tozier with conviction. ‘I’d better get back to check on the trucks; I’d like to see if the radios are still in working order. We’ll leave separately—give me five minutes.’
Warren waited impatiently for the time to elapse, then got up and walked out of the bar. As he passed Speering he almost stopped out of sheer surprise. Speering was sitting with Johnny Follet and they were both tossing coins.
IV
Speering headed north-west from Tehran on the road to Qazvin. ‘You get ahead of him and I’ll stick behind,’ said Tozier to Warren. ‘We’ll have him like the meat in a sandwich. If he turns off the road I’ll get on to you on the blower.’
They had kept an all night watch on Speering’s jeep but it had been a waste of time. He had a leisurely breakfast and did not leave Tehran until ten, and with him was a sharpfeatured Iranian as chauffeur. They trailed the jeep through thick traffic out of the city and once they were on the main road Warren put on a burst of speed, passed Speering, and then slowed down to keep a comfortable distance ahead.Follet, in the passenger seat, kept a sharp eye astern, using the second rear view mirror which was one of Tozier’s modifications.
To the right rose the snow-capped peaks of the Elburz Mountains but all around was a featureless plain, dusty and monotonous. The road was not particularly good as far as Warren could judge, but he had been educated to more exacting standards than the Iranian driver and he reflected that by Iranian standards it was probably excellent. After all, it was the main arterial highway to Tabriz.
As soon as he became accustomed to driving the Land-Rover he said to Follet abruptly, ‘You were talking to Speering last night. What about?’
‘Just passing the time of day,’ said Follet easily.
‘Don’t make a mistake, Johnny,’ said Warren softly. ‘You could get hurt—badly.’
‘Hell, it was nothing,’ protested Follet. ‘It wasn’t even my doing. He came over to me—what else was I expected to do besides talk to him?’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘This and that. Our jobs. I told him I was with Regent Films. You know—all this crap about the film we’re making. He said he worked for an oil company.’ He laughed. ‘I took some of his money off him, too.’
‘I saw you,’ said Warren acidly. ‘What did you use—a two-headed penny?’
Follet raised his hands in mock horror. ‘As God is my judge, I didn’t cheat him. You know that’s not my style. I didn’t have to, anyway; he was pretty near blind drunk.’ His eyes flicked up to the mirror. ‘Slow down a bit—we’re losing him.’
From Tehran to Qazvin was nearly a hundred miles and it was almost one o’clock when they
Tozier looked baffled. ‘Then what is Speering doing here?’
‘That’s the problem,’ said Warren blandly. ‘But I don’t propose asking him outright.’
‘No,’ said Tozier pensively. ‘But we stick to him closer than his shirt.’
A waiter came and and said enquiringly, ‘Mistair Warren?’
‘I’m Warren.’
‘A message for you, sair.’
‘Thank you,’ Warren raised his eyebrows at Tozier as he tipped the waiter. A minute later he said, ‘It’s from Lane. Speering has given up his reservation—he’s leaving tomorrow. Lane doesn’t know where he’s going, but his jeep has been serviced and there are water cans in the back. What do you suppose that means?’
‘He’s leaving Tehran,’ said Tozier with conviction. ‘I’d better get back to check on the trucks; I’d like to see if the radios are still in working order. We’ll leave separately—give me five minutes.’
Warren waited impatiently for the time to elapse, then got up and walked out of the bar. As he passed Speering he almost stopped out of sheer surprise. Speering was sitting with Johnny Follet and they were both tossing coins.
IV
Speering headed north-west from Tehran on the road to Qazvin. ‘You get ahead of him and I’ll stick behind,’ said Tozier to Warren. ‘We’ll have him like the meat in a sandwich. If he turns off the road I’ll get on to you on the blower.’
They had kept an all night watch on Speering’s jeep but it had been a waste of time. He had a leisurely breakfast and did not leave Tehran until ten, and with him was a sharpfeatured Iranian as chauffeur. They trailed the jeep through thick traffic out of the city and once they were on the main road Warren put on a burst of speed, passed Speering, and then slowed down to keep a comfortable distance ahead.Follet, in the passenger seat, kept a sharp eye astern, using the second rear view mirror which was one of Tozier’s modifications.
To the right rose the snow-capped peaks of the Elburz Mountains but all around was a featureless plain, dusty and monotonous. The road was not particularly good as far as Warren could judge, but he had been educated to more exacting standards than the Iranian driver and he reflected that by Iranian standards it was probably excellent. After all, it was the main arterial highway to Tabriz.
As soon as he became accustomed to driving the Land-Rover he said to Follet abruptly, ‘You were talking to Speering last night. What about?’
‘Just passing the time of day,’ said Follet easily.
‘Don’t make a mistake, Johnny,’ said Warren softly. ‘You could get hurt—badly.’
‘Hell, it was nothing,’ protested Follet. ‘It wasn’t even my doing. He came over to me—what else was I expected to do besides talk to him?’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘This and that. Our jobs. I told him I was with Regent Films. You know—all this crap about the film we’re making. He said he worked for an oil company.’ He laughed. ‘I took some of his money off him, too.’
‘I saw you,’ said Warren acidly. ‘What did you use—a two-headed penny?’
Follet raised his hands in mock horror. ‘As God is my judge, I didn’t cheat him. You know that’s not my style. I didn’t have to, anyway; he was pretty near blind drunk.’ His eyes flicked up to the mirror. ‘Slow down a bit—we’re losing him.’
From Tehran to Qazvin was nearly a hundred miles and it was almost one o’clock when they
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