The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [125]
Hamid was suddenly wide awake.
“We won’t be disembarking from the aircraft at any time, since this is an unscheduled stop. But you’ll be able to tell the folks back home that you’ve visited Baghdad.”
Hamid felt his whole body go limp, and then his head rocked forward. The flight attendant rushed to his side.
“Are you feeling all right, sir?” she asked.
He looked up and stared into her eyes. “I must see the captain immediately. Immediately.”
The flight attendant was in no doubt of the passenger’s anxiety, and quickly led him forward, up the spiral staircase into the first-class lounge, and onto the flight deck.
She tapped on the door of the cockpit, opened it and said, “Captain, one of the passengers needs to speak to you urgently.”
“Show him in,” said the Southern voice. The captain turned to face Hamid, who was now trembling uncontrollably. “How can I be of help, sir?” he asked.
“My name is Hamid Zebari. I am an American citizen,” he began. “If you land in Baghdad, I will be arrested, tortured, and then executed.” The words tumbled out. “I am a political refugee, and you must understand that the regime will not hesitate to kill me.”
The captain only needed to take one look at Hamid to realize he wasn’t exaggerating.
“Take over, Jim,” he said to his copilot, “while I have a word with Mr. Zebari. Call me the moment we’ve been given clearance to land.”
The captain unfastened his seatbelt and led Hamid to an empty corner of the first-class lounge.
“Take me through it slowly,” he said.
During the next few minutes Hamid explained why he had had to leave Baghdad, and how he came to be living in the United States. When he had reached the end of his story the captain shook his head and smiled. “No need to panic, sir,” he assured Hamid. “No one is going to have to leave the aircraft at any time, so the passengers’ passports won’t even be checked. Once the engine has been attended to, we’ll be back up and on our way immediately. Why don’t you just stay here in first class, then you’ll be able to speak to me at any time, should you feel at all anxious.”
How anxious can you feel? Hamid wondered, as the captain left him to have a word with the copilot. He started to tremble once more.
“It’s the captain once again, folks, just bringing you up to date. We’ve been given clearance by Baghdad, so we’ve begun our descent and expect to land in about twenty minutes. We’ll then be taxiing to the far end of the runway, where we’ll wait for the engineers. Just as soon as they’ve dealt with our little problem, we’ll be back up and on our way again”.
A collective sigh went up, while Hamid gripped the armrest and wished he hadn’t eaten any lunch. He didn’t stop shaking for the next twenty minutes, and almost fainted when the wheels touched down on the land of his birth.
He stared out of the porthole as the aircraft taxied past the terminal he knew so well. He could see the armed guards stationed on the roof and at the doors leading onto the tarmac. He prayed to Allah, he prayed to Jesus, he even prayed to President Reagan.
For the next fifteen minutes the silence was broken only by the sound of a van driving across the tarmac and coming to a halt under the starboard wing of the aircraft.
Hamid watched as two engineers carrying bulky toolbags got out of the van, stepped onto a small crane, and were hoisted up until they were level with the wing. They began unscrewing the outer plates of one of the engines. Forty minutes later they screwed the plates back on and were lowered to the ground. The van then headed off toward the terminal.
Hamid felt relieved, if not exactly relaxed. He fastened his seatbelt hopefully. His heartbeat fell from 180 a minute to around 110, but he knew it wouldn’t return to normal until the plane lifted off and he could be sure they wouldn’t turn back. Nothing happened for the next few minutes, and Hamid became anxious again. Then the door of the cockpit opened, and he saw the captain heading toward him,