by Ken Follett
The cab pulled up at the U.S. Embassy. Bill looked out the window and his heart leaped: there stood a young, handsome marine guard in an immaculate uniform.
This was the U.S.A.
They paid off the cab.
As they went in, Simons said to the marine: "Is there a motor pool here, soldier?"
"Yes, sir," said the marine, and gave him directions.
Paul and Bill went into the passport office. In their pockets they had passport-sized photographs of themselves that Boulware had brought from the States. They went up to the desk, and Paul said: "We've lost our passports. We left Tehran in kind of a hurry."
"Oh, yes," said the clerk, as if he had been expecting them.
They had to fill in forms. One of the officials took them into a private office and told them he wanted some advice. The U.S. Consulate in Tabriz, Iran, was under attack by revolutionaries, and the staff there might have to escape as Paul and Bill had. They told him the route they had taken and what problems they had encountered.
A few minutes later they walked out of there, each holding a sixty-day U.S. passport. Paul looked at his and said: "Did you ever see anything so beautiful in your whole damn life?"
Simons emptied the oil from the can and shook out the money in the weighted plastic bags. There was a hell of a mess: some of the bags had broken and there was oil all over the banknotes. Sculley started cleaning off the oil and piling the money up in ten-thousand-dollar stacks: there was sixty-five thousand dollars plus about the same again in Iranian rials.
While he was doing this, a marine walked in. Seeing two disheveled, unshaven men kneeling on the floor counting out a small fortune in hundred-dollar bills, he did a double take.
Sculley said to Simons: "Do you think I ought to tell him, Colonel?"
Simons growled: "Your buddy at the gate knows about this, soldier."
The marine saluted and went out.
It was eleven P.M. when they were called to board their flight to Istanbul.
They went through the final security check one by one. Sculley was just ahead of Simons. Looking back, he saw that the guard had asked to see inside the envelope Simons was carrying.
The envelope contained all the money from the fuel can.
Sculley said: "Oh, shit."
The soldier looked in the envelope and saw the sixty-five thousand dollars and four million rials; and all hell broke loose.
Several soldiers drew their guns, one of them called out, and officers came running.
Sculley saw Taylor, who had fifty thousand dollars in a little black bag, pushing his way through the crowd around Simons, saying: "Excuse me, excuse me please, excuse me..."
Ahead of Sculley, Paul had already been cleared through the checkpoint. Sculley thrust his thirty thousand dollars into Paul's hands, then turned and went back through the checkpoint.
The soldiers were taking Simons away to be interrogated. Sculley followed with Mr. Fish, Ilsman, Boulware, and Jim Schwebach. Simons was led into a little room. One of the officers turned, saw five people following, and said in English: "Who are you?"
"We're all together," Sculley said.
They sat down and Mr. Fish talked to the officers. After a while he said: "They want to see the papers that prove you brought this money into the country."
"What papers?"
"You have to declare all the foreign currency you bring in."
"Hell, nobody asked us!"
Boulware said: "Mr. Fish, explain to these clowns that we entered Turkey at a tiny little border station where the guards probably don't know enough to read forms and they didn't ask us to fill in any forms but we're happy to do it now."
Mr. Fish argued some more with the officers. Eventually Simons was allowed to leave, with the money; but the soldiers took down his name, passport number, and description, and the moment they landed in Istanbul, Simons was arrested.
At three A.M. on Saturday, February 17, 1979, Paul and Bill walked into Ross Perot's suite at the Istanbul Sheraton.
It was the greatest moment in Perot's life.
Emotion welled up inside him as he embraced them both. Here they were, alive and well, after all this time, all those weeks of waiting, the impossible decisions and the awful risks. He looked at their beaming faces. The nightmare was over.
The rest of the team crowded in after them. Ron Davis was clowning, as usual. He had borrowed Perot's cold-weather clothes, and Perot had pretended to be anxious to get them back: now Davis stripped off his hat, coat, and gloves, and threw them on the floor dramatically, saying: "Here you are, Perot, here's your damned stuff!"
Then Sculley walked in and said: "Simons got arrested at the airport."
Perot's jubilation evaporated. "Why?" he exclaimed in dismay.
"He was carrying a lot of money in a paper envelope and they just happened to search him."
Perot said angrily: "Darn it, Pat, why was he carrying money?"
"It was the money from the fuel can. See--"
Perot interrupted: "After all Simons has done, why in the world did you let him take a completely unnecessary risk? Now see here. I'm taking off at noon, and if Simons isn't out of jail by then, you are going to stay in frigging Istanbul until he is!"
Sculley and Boulware sat down with Mr. Fish. Boulware said: "We need to get Colonel Simons out of jail."
"Well," said Mr. Fish, "it will take around ten days--"
"Bullshit," said Boulware. "Perot will not buy that. I want him out of jail now."
"It's five o'clock in the morning!" Mr. Fish protested.
"How much?" said Boulware.
"I don't know. Too many people know about this, in Ankara as well as Istanbul."
"How about five thousand dollars?"
"For that, they would sell their mothers."
"Fine," said Boulware. "Let's get it on."
Mr. Fish made a phone call, then said: "My lawyer will meet us at the jail near the airport."
Boulware and Mr. Fish got into Mr. Fish's battered old car, leaving Sculley to pay the hotel bill.
They drove to the jail and met the lawyer. The lawyer got into Mr. Fish's car and said: "I have a judge on the way. I've already talked to the police. Where's the money?"
Boulware said: "The prisoner has it."
"What do you mean?"
Boulware said: "You go in there and bring the prisoner out, and he will give you the five thousand dollars."
It was crazy, but the lawyer did it. He went into the jail and came out a few minutes later with Simons. They got into the car.
"We're not going to pay these clowns," said Simons. "I'll wait it out. They'll just talk themselves to death and let me go in a few days."
Boulware said: "Bull, please don't fight the program. Give me the envelope."
Simons handed over the envelope. Boulware took out five thousand dollars and gave it to the lawyer, saying: "Here's the money. Make it happen."
The lawyer made it happen.
Half an hour later, Boulware, Simons, and Mr. Fish were driven to the airport in a police car. A policeman took their passports and walked them through passport control and customs. When they came out on the tarmac, the police car was there to take them to the Boeing 707 waiting on the runway.
They boarded the plane. Simons looked around at the velvet curtains, the plush upholstery, the TV sets, and the bars, and said: "What the fuck is this?"
The crew were on board, waiting. A stewardess came up to Boulware and said: "Would you like a drink?"
Boulware smiled.
The phone rang in Perot's hotel suite, and Paul happened to answer it.
A voice said: "Hello?"
Paul said: "Hello?"
The voice said: "Who is this?"
Paul, suspicious, said: "Who is this?"
"Hey, Paul?"
Paul recognized the voice of Merv Stauffer. "Hello, Merv!"
"Paul, I got somebody here wants to talk to you."
There was a pause; then a woman's voice said: "
Paul?"
It was Ruthie.
"Hello, Ruthie!"
"Oh, Paul!"
"Hi! What are you doing?"
"What do you mean, what am I doing?" Ruthie said tearfully. "I'm waiting for you!"
The phone rang. Before Emily got to it, someone picked up the extension in the children's room.
A moment later she heard a little girl scream: "It's Dad! It's Dad!"
She rushed into the room.
All the children were jumping up and down and fighting over the phone.
Emily restrained herself for a couple of minutes, then took the phone away from them.
"Bill?"
"Hello, Emily."
"Gee you sound good. I didn't expect you to sound ... Oh, Bill, you sound so good."
In Dallas, Merv began to take down a message from Perot in code.
Take ... the ...
He was now so familiar with the code that he could transcribe as he went along.
... code ... and ...
He was puzzled, because for the last three days Perot had been giving him a hard time about the code. Perot did not have the patience to use it, and Stauffer had had to insist, saying: "Ross, this is the way Simons wants it." Now that the danger was past, why had Perot suddenly started to use the code?
... stick ... it ... where ...
Stauffer guessed what was coming, and burst out laughing.
Ron Davis called room service and ordered bacon and eggs for everyone.
While they were eating, Dallas called again. It was Stauffer. He asked for Perot.
"Ross, we just got the Dallas Times-Herald. "
Was this to be another joke?
Stauffer went on: "The headline on the front page says: 'Perot men reportedly on way out. Overland exit route from Iran indicated.' "
Perot felt his blood start to boil. "I thought we were getting that story killed!"
"Boy, Ross, we tried! The people who own or manage the paper just don't seem to be able to control the editor."
Tom Luce came on the line, mad as hell. "Ross, those bastards are willing to get the rescue team killed and destroy EDS and see you jailed just to be the first to print the story. We've explained the consequences to them and it just doesn't matter. Boy, when this is over we should sue them, no matter how long it takes or how much it costs--"
"Maybe," said Perot. "Be careful about picking a fight with people who buy ink by the barrel and paper by the ton. Now, what are the chances of this news reaching Tehran?"
"We don't know. There are plenty of Iranians in Texas, and most of them will hear about this. It's still very hard to get a phone line to Tehran, but we've managed it a couple of times, so they could, too."
"And if they do ..."
"Then, of course, Dadgar finds out that Paul and Bill have slipped through his grasp--"
"And he could decide to take alternative hostages," Perot said coldly. He was disgusted with the State Department for leaking the story, furious with the Dallas Times-Herald for printing it, and maddened that there was nothing he could do about it. "And the Clean Team is still in Tehran," he said.
The nightmare was not over yet.
Fourteen
1_____
At midday on Friday, February 16, Lou Goelz called Joe Poche and told him to bring the EDS people to the U.S. Embassy that afternoon at five o'clock. Ticketing and baggage check-in would be done at the Embassy overnight, and they could leave on a Pan Am evacuation flight on Saturday morning.
John Howell was nervous. He knew, from Abolhasan, that Dadgar was still active. He did not know what had happened to the Dirty Team. If Dadgar were to find out that Paul and Bill had gone, or if he were simply to give up on them and take a couple more hostages, the Clean Team would be arrested. And where better to make the arrests than at the airport, where everyone had to identify himself by showing his passport?
He wondered whether it was wise for them to take the first available flight: there would be a series of flights, according to Goelz. Maybe they should wait, and see what happened to the first batch of evacuees, whether there was any kind of search for EDS personnel. At least then they would know in advance what the procedures were.
But so would the Iranians. The advantage of taking the first flight was that everything would probably be confused, and the confusion might help Howell and the Clean Team slip out unnoticed.
In the end he decided the first flight was best, but he remained uneasy. Bob Young felt the same way. Although Young no longer worked for EDS in Iran--he was based in Kuwait--he had been here when the Ministry contract was first negotiated, he had met Dadgar face-to-face, and his name might be on some list in Dadgar's files.
Joe Poche also favored the first flight, although he did not say much about it--he did not say much at all: Howell found him uncommunicative.
Rich and Cathy Gallagher were not sure they wanted to leave Iran. They told Poche quite firmly that, regardless of what Colonel Simons had said, Poche was not "in charge" of them, and they had the right to make their own decision. Poche agreed, but pointed out that if they decided to take their chances here with the Iranians, they should not rely on Perot sending another rescue team in for them if they got thrown in jail. In the end the Gallaghers also decided to go on the first flight.
That afternoon they all went through their documents and destroyed everything that referred to Paul and Bill.
Poche gave each of them two thousand dollars, put five hundred dollars in his own pocket, and hid the rest of the money in his shoes, ten thousand dollars in each. He was wearing shoes borrowed from Gayden, a size too large, to accommodate the money. He also had in his pocket a million rials, which he planned to give to Lou Goelz for Abolhasan, who would use the money to pay the remaining Iranian EDS employees their last wages.
A few minutes before five, they were saying goodbye to Goelz's houseman when the phone rang.
Poche took the call. It was Tom Walter. He said: "We have the people. Do you understand? We have the people."
"I understand," Poche said.
They all got into the car, Cathy carrying her poodle, Buffy. Poche drove. He did not tell the others about his cryptic message from Tom Walter.
They parked in a side street near the Embassy, and left the car: it would stay there until somebody decided to steal it.
There was no relief of tension for Howell as he walked into the Embassy compound. There were at least a thousand Americans milling about, but there were also scores of armed revolutionary guards. The Embassy was supposed to be American soil, inviolate; but clearly the Iranian revolutionaries did not take any notice of such diplomatic niceties.
The Clean Team was herded into a queue.
They spent most of the night waiting in line.
They queued to fill in forms, they queued to hand in their passports, and they queued for baggage checks. All the bags were put in a huge hall; then the evacuees had to find their own bags and put the claim checks on. Then they queued to open their bags so the revolutionaries could search them: every single piece was opened.
Howell learned that there would be two planes, both Pan Am 747s. One would go to Frankfurt, the other to Athens. The evacuees were organized by company, but the EDS people were included with Embassy personnel who were leaving. They would be on the Frankfurt flight.
At seven o'clock on Saturday morning they were boarded on buses to go to the airport.
It was a hell of a ride.
Two or three armed revolutionaries got on each bus. As they drove out of the Embassy gates, they saw a crowd of reporters and television crews: the Iranians had decided that the flight of the humiliated Americans would be a world television event.
The bus bumped along the road to the airport. Close to Poche was a guard about fifteen years old. He stood in the aisle, swaying with the motion of the bus, his finger on the trigger of his rifle. Poche noticed that the safety catch was off.
If he stumbled ...
The streets were full of people a
nd traffic. Everyone seemed to know that these buses contained Americans, and their hatred was palpable. They yelled and shook their fists. A truck pulled alongside, and the driver leaned out of his window and spat on the bus.
The convoy was stopped several times. Different areas of the city seemed to be under the control of different revolutionary groups, and each group had to demonstrate its authority by stopping the buses and then giving them permission to proceed.
It took two hours to drive the six miles to the airport.
The scene there was chaotic. There were more television cameras and reporters, plus hundreds of armed men running around, some wearing scraps of uniform, some directing traffic, all of them in charge, all having a different opinion on where the buses should go.
The Americans finally got inside the terminal at nine-thirty.
Embassy personnel started distributing the passports they had collected during the night. Five were missing: those of Howell, Poche, Young, and the Gallaghers.
After Paul and Bill had given their passports to the Embassy for safekeeping back in November, the Embassy had refused to return them without informing the police. Would they pull the same trick now?
Suddenly Poche came pushing through the crowd with five passports in his hand: "I found them on a shelf behind a counter," he said. "I guess they got put there by accident."
Bob Young saw two Americans holding photographs and scanning the crowd. To his horror, they started to approach the EDS people. They walked up to Rich and Cathy Gallagher.
Surely Dadgar would not take Cathy hostage?
The people smiled and said they had some of the Gallaghers' luggage.
Young relaxed.
Friends of the Gallaghers had salvaged some of the bags from the Hyatt, and had asked these two Americans to bring them to the airport and try to give them to the Gallaghers. The people had agreed, but they did not know the Gallaghers--hence, the photographs.
It had been a false alarm, but if anything, it increased their anxiety.
Joe Poche decided to see what he could find out. He went off and located a Pan Am ticket agent. "I work for EDS," Poche told the agent. "Are the Iranians looking for anyone?"
