On Wings of Eagles (25 page)

"I thought it might make me look less American here."

"Did you ever see an Iranian with a ginger beard?"

"No," Coburn laughed.

"So, what are you hem for?"

    "Well, we're obviously not going to bring our people back in here in the

    foreseeable future, so I've come to police up everyone's personal

    belongings to get them shipped back to the States. "

    Taylor shot him a funny look but did not comment. "Where are you going to

    stay? We've all moved into the Hyatt Crown Regency, it's safer."

"How about I use your old house?"

"It

    '1~%tever YOU say.

    "Now, about these belongings. Do you have those envelopes everyone left,

    with their house keys and car keys and instructions for disposal of their

    household goods?"

    "I sure do-I've been referring to them. Everything people don't want

    shipped I've been selling-washers and dryers, refrigerators, I'm running

    a permanent garage sale here."

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 151

"Can I have the envelopes?"

- Sure. -

"How's the car situation?"

    -we've rounded up most of them. I've got them parked at a school, with some

    Iranians watching them, if they're not selling them. "

"What about gas?"

    "Rich got four fifty-five-gallon drums from the air force and we've got

    them full down in the basement. "

"I thought I smelled gas when I came in."

    "Don't strike a match down there in the dark, we'll all be blown to hell."

"What do you do about topping up the drums?"

    "We use a couple of cars as tankers-a Buick and a Chevy, with big U. S. gas

    tanks. Two of our drivers spend all day waiting in gas lines. When they get

    filled up, they come back here and we siphon the gas into the drums, then

    send the cars back to the filling station. Sometimes you can buy gas from

    the front of the line. Grab someone who's just got filled up and offer him

    ten times the pump price for the gas in his car. There's a whole economy

    grown up around the gas lines."

"What about fuel oil for the houses, for heating?"

    "I've got a source, but he charges me ten times the old price. I'm spending

    money like a drunken sailor here."

-I'm going to need twelve cars."

"Twelve cars, huh, Jay?"

"That's what I said."

    "You'll have room to stash diem, at my house-4t's got a big walled

    courtyard. Would you ... for any reason ... like to be able to get the cars

    refueled without any of the Iranian employees seeing you?"

"I sure would."

    "Just bring an empty car to the Hyatt and I'll swap it for a full one. I I

"How many Iranians do we still have?"

"Ten of the best, plus four drivers."

"I'd like a list of their names."

"Did you know Ross is on his way in?"

"Shit, no!" Coburn was astonished.

    "I just got word. He's bringing Bob Young, from Kuwait, to take over this

    administrative stuff from me, and John Howell to

152 Ken Follett

work on the legal side. They want me to work with John, on the negotiations

and bail."

    "Is that a fact." Coburn wondered what was on Perot's mind. "Okay, I'm

    taking off for your place."

"Jay, why don't you tell me what's up?"

"There's nothing I can tell you."

"Screw you, Coburn. I want to know what's going down."

"You got all I'm going to tell you."

    "Screw you again. Wait till you see what cars you get-you'll be lucky if

    they have steering wheels."

I 'Sorry.

"Jay . .

"Yeah?"

"That's the funniest looking suitcase I've ever seen."

"So it is, so it is."

"I know what you're up to, Coburn.

Coburn sighed. "Let's go for a walk."

    They went out into the street, and Coburn told Taylor about the rescue

    team.

The next day Coburn and Taylor went to work on hideouts.

    Taylor's house, Number 2 Aftab Street, was ideal. Conveniently close to the

    Hyatt for switching cars, it was also in the Armenian section of the city,

    which might be less hostile to Americans if the rioting got worse. It had

    a working phone and a supply of heating oil. The walled courtyard was big

    enough to park six cars, and there was a back entrance that could be used

    as an escape route if a squad of police came to the front door. And the

    landlord did not live on the premises.

    Using the street map of Tehran on the wall of Coburn's office -which had,

    since the evacuation, been marked with the location of every EDS home in

    the city---they picked three more empty houses as alternative hideouts.

    During the day, as Taylor got the cars gassed up, Coburn drove them one by

    one from Bucharest to the houses, parking three cars at each of the four

    locations.

    Looking again at his wall map, he tried to recall which of the wives had

    worked for the American military, for the families with commissary

    privileges always had the best food. He listed eight likely prospects.

    Tomorrow he would visit them and pick up canned and dned food and bottled

    drinks for the hideouts.

He selected a fifth apartment, but did not visit it. It was to be

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 153

a safe house, a hideout for a serious emergency: no one would go there until

it had to be used.

    That evening, alone in Taylor's apartment, he called Dallas and asked for

    Merv Stauffer.

Stauffer was cheerful, as always. "Fli, Jay! How are you?" Fine."

    "I'm glad you called, because I have a message for you. Got a pencil?"

"Sure do."

"Okay. Honky Keith Goofball Zero Honky Dummy-"

    'Merv," Coburn interrupted. Yeah?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Merv?"

"It's the code, Jay. 9 *

"What is Honky Keith Goofball?"

-H for Honky, K for Keith-"

"Merv, H is Hotel, K is Kilo . .

    "Ohl" said Stauffer. "Oh, I didn't realize you were supposed to use certain

    particular words . - - -

    Coburn started to laugh. "Listen," he said. "Get someone to give you the

    military alphabet before next time."

    Stauffer was laughing at himself. "I sure will," he said. "I guess we'll

    have to make do with my own version this time, though."

"Okay, off you go."

    Coburn took down the coded message, then-still using the code--he gave

    Stauffer his location and phone number. After hanging up, he decoded the

    message Stauffer had given.him. .

    It was good news. Simons and Joe PocW were arriving in Tehran the next day.

    2

By January II-Aw day Coburn arrived in Tehran and Perot flew to London-4)aul

and Bill had been in jail exactly two weeks.

    In that time they bad showered once. When the guards learned that there was

    hot water, they gave each cell five minutes in the showers. Modesty was

    forgotten as the men crowded into the cubicles for the luxury of being warm

    and clean for

154 Ken Folleu

a while. They washed not only themselves but all their clothes as well.

    After a week the jail had run out of bottled gas for cooking, so the food,

    as well as being starchy and short on vegetables, was now cold. Fortunately

    they were allowed to supplement the diet with oranges, apples, and nuts

    brought in by visitors.

    Most evenings the electricity was off for an hour or two, and then the

    prisoners would light candles or flashlights. The jail was full of deputy

    ministers, government contractors, and Tehran businessmen. Two members of

    the Empress's court were in Cell Number 5 with Paul and Bill. The latest

    arrival in their cell was Dr. Siazi, who had worked at the Ministry of

    Health under Dr. Sheik as manager of a department called Rehabilitation.

    Siazi was a psychiatrist, and he used his knowledge of the human niind to

    boost monde among his fellow prisoners. He was forever dreaming up games

    and diversions to enliven the dreary routine: he instituted a suppertime

    ritual whereby everyone in the cell had to tell a joke before they could

    eat. When he learned the amount of Paul's and Bill's bail he assured them

    they would have a visit from Farrah Fawcett Majors, whose husband was a

    mere Six Million Dollar Man.

    Paul developed a curiously strong relationship with the "father" of the

    cell, the longest resident, who by tradition was cell boss. A small man in

    late middle age, he did what little he could to help the Americans,

    encouraging them to eat and bribing the guards for little extras for them.

    He knew only a dozen or so words of English, and Paul spoke little Farsi,

    but they managed halting conversations. Paul learned that he had been a

    promment businessman, owning a construction company and a London hotel.

    Paul showed him the photographs that Taylor had brought in of Karen and Ann

    Marie, and the old man learned their names. For all Paul knew, he might

    have been as guilty as hen of whatever he was accused of; but the concern

    and warmth he displayed toward the foreigners was enormously heartening.

    Paul was also touched by the bravery of his EDS colleagues in Tehran. Lloyd

    Briggs, who had now gone to New York; Rich Gallagher, who had never left;-

    and Keane Taylor, who had come back; all risked their lives every time they

    drove through the riots to visit the jail. Each of them also faced the

    danger that Dadgar might take it into his head to seize them as additional

    hostages. Paul was particularly grateful when he heard that Bob Young

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 155

was on his way in, for Bob's wife had a new baby, and this was an especially

bad time for him to put himself in danger.

    Paul had at first imagined he was going to be released any minute. Now he

    was telling himself he would get out any day.

    One of their cellmates had been let out. He was Lucio Randone, an Italian

    budder employed by the construction company Condotti d'Acqua. Randone came

    back to visit, bringing two very large bars of Italian chocolate, and told

    Paul and Bill that he had talked to the Italian Ambassador in Tehran about

    them. The Ambassador had promised to see his American counterpart and

    reveal the secret of getting people out of jail.

    But the biggest source of Paul's optimism was Dr. Ahmad Houman, the

    attorney Briggs had retained to replace the Iranian lawyers who had given

    bad advice on the bad. Hounian had visited them during their first week in

    jail. They had sat in the jail's reception area--not, for some reason, in

    the visiting room in the low building across the courtyard-and Paul had

    feared that this would inhibit a hank lawyer-client discussion; but Hournan

    was not intimidated by the presence of prison guards. "Dadgar is trying to

    make a name for himself," he had announced.

    Could that be it? An overenthusiastic prosecutor hying to impress his

    supenor&--or perhaps the revolutionane&-with his anti-American diligence?

    "Dadgar's office is very powerful," Houman went on. "But in this case he is

    out on a limb. He did not have cause to arrest you, and the bail is

    exorbitant."

    Paul began to feel good about Houman. He seemed knowledgeable and

    confident. "So what are you going to do?"

    My strategy will be to get the bail reduced."

"How?"

    "First I will talk to Dadgar. I hope I will be able to make him see how

    outrageous the bad is. But if he remains intransigent, I will go to his

    superiors in the Ministry of Justice and persuade them to order him to

    reduce the bad."

"And how long do you expect that to take?"

..Perhaps a week."

    It was taking more than a week, but Houman had made progress. He had come

    back to the jail to report that Dadgaes superiors at the Ministry of

    Justice had agreed to force Dadgar to back down and reduce the bad to a sum

    EDS could pay easily and swiftly out of funds currently in Iran. Exuding

    contempt for Dadgar and confidence in himself, he announced triumphantly

156 Ken Follett

that everything would be finalized at a second meeting between Paul and Bill

and Dadgar on January I I -

    Sure enough, that day Dadgar came to the jail in the afternoon. He wanted

    to see Paul alone first, as he had before. Paul was in fine spirits as the

    guard walked him across the courtyard. Dadgar was just an overenthusiastic

    prosecutor, he thought, and now he had been slapped down by his superiors

    and would have to eat humble pie.

    Dadgar was waiting, with the same woman translator beside him. He nodded

    curtly, and Paul sat down, thinking: he doesn't look very humble.

    Dadgar spoke in Farsi, and Mrs. Nourbash translated: "We are here to

    discuss the amount of your bail."

"Good," said Paul.

    "Mr. Dadgar has received a letter on this subject from officials at the