Follett, Ken - On Wings of Eagles.txt

by On Wings of Eagles [lit]

  clear that they blamed him and his colleagues for the arrest of Paul and

  Bill: it was big of him to open his house to them after all that. As

  everything came unglued in Iran, Goelz was becoming less of a bureaucrat

  and showing that his heart was in the right place.

  The Clean Team and the Dirty Team shook hands and wished each other luck,

  not knowing who needed it most; then the Clean Team left for Goelz's house.

  It was now evening. Coburn and Keane Taylor went to Majid's house to pick

  him up: he would spend the night at the Dvoranchik place like Seyyed.

  Coburn and Taylor also had to get a fifty-fivegallon drum of fuel that

  Majid had been keeping for them.

  When they got to the house Majid was out.

  They waited, fretting. At last Majid came in. He greeted them, welcomed

  them to his home, called for tea, the whole nine yards. Eventually Coburn

  said: "We're leaving tomorrow morning. We want you to come with us now - "

  Majid asked Coburn to step into another room with him, then he said: "I

  can't go with you."

  "Why not?"

  "I have to kill Hoveyda."

  "What?" said Coburn incredulously. "Who?"

  "Amir Abbas Hoveyda, who used to be Prime Minister."

  "Why do you have to kill him?"

  "It's a long story. The Shah had a land-reform program, and Hoveyda tried

  to take away my family's tribal lands, and we rebelled, and Hoveyda put me

  in jail ... I have been waiting all these years for my revenge."

  "You have to kill him right away?" said Coburn, astonished.

  "I have the weapons and the opportunity. In two days' time all may be

  different."

  300 Ken Follett

  Coburn was nonplussed. He did not know what to say. It was clear Majid

  could not be talked around.

  Coburn and Taylor manhandled the fuel drum into the back of the Range

  Rover, then took their leave. Majid wished them luck.

  Back at the Dvoranchik place, Coburn started trying to reach the Cycle Man,

  hoping he would replace Majid as driver. The Cycle Man was as elusive as

  Coburn himself. He could normally be reached at a certain phone number-some

  kind of revolutionary headquarters, Coburn suspected-just once a day. The

  regular time for him to drop by this place was now past--it was late in the

  evening--but Coburn tried anyway. The Cycle Man was not there. He tried a

  few more phone numbers without success.

  At least they had Seyyed.

  At ten-thirty Coburn went out to meet Seyyed. He walked through the

  darkened streets to Argentine Square, a mile from the Dvoranchik place,

  then picked his way across a construction site and into an empty building

  to wait.

  At eleven o'clock Seyyed had not arrived.

  Simons had told Coburn to wait fifteen minutes, no longer; but Coburn

  decided to give Seyyed a little more time.

  He waited until eleven-thirty.

  Seyyed was not coming.

  Coburn wondered what had happened: given Seyyed's family connections, it

  was quite possible he had fallen victim to the revolutionaries.

  For the Dirty Team this was a disaster. Now they had no Iranians to go with

  them. How the hell will we get through all those roadblocks? wondered

  Coburn. What a shitty break: the professor drops out, Majid drops out, the

  Cycle Man can't be found, then Seyyed drops out. Shit.

  He left the construction site and walked away. Suddenly he heard a car. He

  looked back, and saw a jeep full of armed revolutionaries swinging around

  the square. He ducked behind a convenient bush. They went by.

  He went on, hurrying now, wondering whether the curfew was in force

  tonight. He was almost home when the jeep came roaring back toward him.

  They saw me last time, he thought, and they've come back to pick me up.

  It was very dark. They might not have spotted him yet. He turned and ran

  back. There was no cover on this street. The noise of the jeep became

  louder. At last Coburn saw some

  ON WINGS OF EAGLES 301

  shrubbery and flung himself into it. He lay there listening to his heartbeat

  as the jeep came closer. Were they looking for him? Had they picked up

  Seyyed and tortured him, and made him confess that he had an appointment

  with a capitalist American pig at Argentine Square at ten forty-five ... ?

  The jeep went by without stopping.

  Coburn picked himself up.

  He ran all the way to the Dvoranchik place.

  He told Simons they now had no Iranian drivers.

  Simons cursed. "Is there another Iranian we can call?"

  "Only one. Rashid."

  Simons did not want to use Rashid, Coburn knew, because Rashid had led the

  jailbreak, and if someone who remembered him from that should see him

  driving a carload of Americans, there might be trouble. But Coburn could

  not think of anyone else.

  "Okay," said Simons. "Call him."

  Coburn dialed Rashid's number.

  He was at home!

  "This is Jay Coburn. I need your help."

  "Sure. 11

  Coburn did not want to give the address of the hideout over the phone, in

  case the line was wiretapped. He recalled that Bill Dvoranchik had a slight

  squint. He said: "You remember the guy with the funny eye?"

  "With a funny eye? Oh, yeah-"

  "Don't say his name. Remember where he used to live?"

  "Sure.-"

  "Don't say it. That's where I am. I need you here."

  "Jay, I live miles from there and I don't know how I'm going to get across

  the city-"

  "Just try," Coburn said. He knew how resourceful Rashid was. Give him a

  task and he just hated to fad. "You'll get here.11

  - 'Okay.

  "Thanks." Coburn hung up.

  It was midnight.

  Paul and Bill had each picked a passport from the ones Gayden had brought

  from the States, and Simons had made them learn the names, dates of birth,

  personal details, and all the visas and country stamps. The photograph in

  Paul's passport looked more or less like Paul, but Bill's was a problem.

  None of them

  302 Ken Follett

  was right, and he ended up with the passport of Larry Humphreys, a blond,

  rather Nordic type who really did not look like Bill.

  The tension mounted as the six men discussed details of the journey they

  would begin within the next few hours. There was fighting in Tabriz,

  according to Rich Gallagher's military contacts; so they would stick to the

  plan of taking the low road, south of Lake Rezaiyeh, passing through

  Mahabad. The story they would tell, if questioned, would be as close to the

  truth as possible,always Simons's preference when lying. They would say

  they were businessmen who wanted to get home to their families, the airport

  was closed, and they were driving to Turkey.

  In support of that story, they would carry no weapons. It was a difficult

  decision-they knew they might regret being unarmed and helpless in the

  middle of a revolution-but Simons and Coburn had found, on the

  reconnaissance trip, that the revolutionaries at the roadblocks always

  searched for weapons. Simons's instinct told him they would be better off

  talking their way out of trouble than trying to shoot their way out.

&nbs
p; They also decided to leave behind the fifty-five-gallon fuel drums, on the

  grounds that they made the team look too professional, too organized, for

  businessmen quietly driving home.

  They would, however, take a lot of money. Joe Poch6 and the Clean Team had

  gone off with fifty thousand dollars, but Simons's crew still had around a

  quarter of a million dollars, some of it in Iranian rials, deutschmarks,

  sterling, and gold. They packed fifty thousand dollars into kitchen

  baggies, weighted the bags with shot, and put them in a gas can. They hid

  some in a Kleenex box and more in the battery hold of a flashlight. They

  passed the rest out for each to conceal about his person.

  At one o'clock Rashid still had not arrived. Simons sent Coburn to stand at

  the street gate and watch for him.

  Coburn stood in the darkness, shivering, hoping Rashid would show up. They

  would leave tomorrow, with or without him, but without him they might not

  get far. The villagers in the countryside would probably detain Americans

  just on general principles. Rashid would be the ideal guide, despite

  Simons's worries: the kid had a silver tongue.

  Coburn's thoughts turned to home. Liz was mad at him, that he knew.'She had

  been giving Merv Stauffer a hard time, calling every day and asking where

  her husband was and what he was doing and when he was coming home.

  Coburn knew he would have to make some decisions when he

  ON WINGS OF EAGLES 303

  got home. He was not sure that he was going to spend the rest of his life

  with Liz; and after this episode, maybe she would begin to feel the same

  way. I suppose we were in love, once upon a time, he thought. Where did all

  that go?

  He heard footsteps. A short, curly-headed figure was walking along the

  sidewalk toward him, shoulders hunched against the cold.

  "Rashid!" hissed Coburn.

  .1 JayT I

  "Boy, am I glad to see you."' Coburn took Rashid's arm. "Let's go inside."

  They went into the living room. Rashid said hello to everyone, smiling and

  blinking: he blinked a lot, especially in moments of excitement, and he had

  a nervous cough. Simons sat him down and explained the plan to him. Rashid

  blinked faster.

  When he understood what was being asked of him, he became a little

  self-important. "I will help you on one condition," he said, and coughed.

  "I know this country and I know this culture. You are all important people

  in EDS, but this is not EDS. If I lead you to the border, you must agree

  always to do everything I say, without question. "

  Coburn held his breath. Nobody talked like this to Simons.

  But Simons grinned. "Anything you say, Rashid."

  A few minutes later Coburn got Simons in a corner and said quietly:

  "Colonel, did you mean that about Rashid being in charge?"

  "Sure," said Simons. "He's in charge as long as he's doing what I want."

  Coburn knew, better than Simons, how hard it was to control Rashid even

  when Rashid was supposed to be obeying orders. On the other hand, Simons

  was the most skilled leader of small groups Coburn had ever met. Then

  again, this was Rashid's country, and Simons did not speak Farsi.... The

  last thing they needed on this trip was a power struggle between Simons and

  Rashid.

  Coburn got on the phone to Dallas and spoke to Merv Stauffer. Paul had

  encoded a description of the Dirty Team's proposed route to the border, and

  Coburn now gave Stauffer the coded message.

  Then they discussed how they would communicate en route. It would probably

  be impossible to call Dallas from countryside pay phones, so they decided

  they would pass messages through

  304 Ken Folleu

  an EDS employee in Tehran, Gholam. Gholam was not to know he was being used

  this way. Coburn would call Gholarn once a day. If all was well he would

  say: "I have a message for Jim Nyfeler: We are okay." Once the team reached

  Rezaiyeh he would add: "We are at the staging area." Stauffer, in his turn,

  would simply call Gholam and ask whether there were any messages. So long as

  all went well, Gholam would be kept in the dark. If things went wrong, the

  pretense would be abandoned: Coburn would level with Gholam, tell him what

  the trouble was, and ask him to call Dallas.

  Stauffer and Coburn had become so familiar with the code that they could

  hold a discussion, using mostly ordinary English mixed with a few letter

  groups and key code words, and be sure that anyone listening in on a

  wiretap would be unable to figure out what they meant.

  Merv explained that Perot had contingency plans to fly into northwest Iran

  from Turkey to pick up the Dirty Team if necessary. Perot wanted the Range

  Rovers to be clearly identifiable from the air, so he proposed that each of

  them should have a large -X- on its roof, either painted or made of black

  electrician's tape. If a vehicle had to be abandoned-because it broke down,

  or ran out of gas, or for any other reason-4he "X" should be changed to an

  "A."

  There was another message from Perot. He had talked with Admiral Moorer,

  who had said that things were going to get worse and the team should get

  out of there. Coburn told Simons this. Simons said: "Tell Admiral Moorer

  that the only water here is in the kitchen sink-I look out the window and

  I see no ships." Coburn laughed, and told Stauffer: "We understand the

  message. "

  It was almost five A.m. There was no more time to talk. Stauffer said:

  "Take care of yourself, Jay." He sounded choked up. "Keep your head down,

  y'hear?"

  "I sure will."

  "Good luck."

  "Bye, Merv."

  Coburn hung up-

  As dawn broke, Rashid went out in one of the Range Rovers to reconnoiter

  the streets. He was to find a route out of the city avoiding roadblocks. If

  the fighting was heavy, the tem would consider postponing their departure

  another twenty-four hours.

  At the same time, Coburn left in the second Range Rover to

  ON WINGS OF EAGLES 305

  meet with Gholam. He gave Gholarn cash to cover the next payday at

  Bucharest, and said nothing about using Gholarn to pass messages to Dallas.

  The object of the exercise was a pretense of normality, so that it would be

  a few days before the remaining Iranian employees began to suspect that

  their American bosses had left town.

  When he got back to the Dvoranchik place, the team discussed who should go

  in which car. Rashid should drive the lead car, obviously. His passengers

  would be Simons, Bill, and Keane Taylor. In the second car would be Coburn,

  Paul, and Gayden.

  Simons said: "Coburn, you're not to let Paul out of your sight until you're

  in Dallas. Taylor, the same goes for you and Bill."

  Rashid came back and said the streets were remarkably quiet.

  "All right," said Simons. "Let's get this show on the road."

  Keane Taylor and Bill went out to fill the gas tanks of the Range Rovers

  from the fifty-five-gallon drum. The fuel had to be siphoned into the cars,

  and the only way to start the flow was to suck the fuel through: Taylor

  swallowed so much gasoline that he went back into the house and v
omited,

  and for once nobody laughed at him.

  Coburn had some pep pills that he had bought, on Simons's instructions, at

  a Tehran drugstore. He and Simons had had no sleep for twenty-four hours

  straight, and now they each took a pill to keep them awake.

  Paul emptied the kitchen of every kind of food that would keep: crackers,

  cupcakes, canned puddings, and cheese. It was not very nutritious, but it

  would fill them.

  Coburn whispered to Paul: "Make sure we get the cassette tapes, so we can

  have some music in our car."

  Bill loaded the cars with blankets, flashlights, and can openers.

  They were ready.

  They all went outside.

  As they were getting into the cars, Rashid said: "Paul, you drive the

  second car, please. You are dark enough to pass for Iranian if you don't

  speak."

  Paul glanced at Simons. Simons gave a slight nod. Paul got behind the

  wheel.

  They drove out of the courtyard and into the street.

  ELEvEN

  As the Dirty Team drove out of the Dvoranchik place, Ralph Boulware was at

  Istanbul Airport, waiting for Ross Perot.

  Boulware had mixed feelings about Perot. Boulware had been a technician

  when he joined EDS. Now he was a manager. He had a fine big house in a

  white Dallas suburb, and an income few black Americans could ever hope for.

  He owed it all to EDS, and to Perot's policy of promoting talent. They

  didn't give you all this stuff for nothing, of course: they gave it for

  brains and hard work and good business judgment. But what they did give you

  for nothing was the chance to show your stuff.

  On the other hand, Boulware suspected Perot wanted to own his men body and

  soul. That was why ex-military people got on well at EDS: they were

  comfortable with discipline and used to a twenty-four-hour-a-day job.

  Boulware was afraid that one day he might have to decide whether he was his

  own man or Perot's.

  He admired Perot for going to Iran. For a man as rich and comfortable and

  protected as that to put his ass on the line the way he had ... that took

  some balls. Ilere was probably not one other chairman of the board of an

  American corporation who would conceive the rescue plan, let alone

  participate in it.

  And then again, Boulware wondered-all his life he would wonder-whether he