On Wings of Eagles (56 page)

    "Listen, let's just get another cab, we don't need the cousin."

    "It's a very bad place between here and the border," Charlie said. "We're

    foreigners, we need protection."

Boulware forced himself to be patient.

    At last Ilsman shook hands with Mr. Fish's cousin and Charlie said: "His

    sons will take us to the border."

There were two sons and two cars.

    They drove up into the mountains. Boulware saw no sign of the dangerous

    bandits against whom he was being protected: just snow-covered fields,

    scrawny goats, and a few ragged people living in hovels.

    They were stopped by the police in the village of Yuksekova, a few miles

    from the border, and ordered into the little whitewashed police station.

    llsman showed his credentials and they were quickly released. Boulware was

    impressed: maybe llsman really was with the Turkish equivalent of the CIA.

    They reached the border at four o'clock on Thursday afternoon, having been

    on the road for twenty-four hours.

    The border station was in the middle of nowhere. The guard post consisted

    of two wooden buildings. There was also a post

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 341

office. Boulware wondered who the hell used it. Truck drivers, perhaps. Two

hundred yards away, on the Iranian side, was a bigger cluster of buildings.

There was no sign of the Dirty Team.

    Boulware felt angry. He had broken his neck to get here more or less on

    time: where the hell was Simons?

    A guard came out of one of the huts and approached him, saying: "Are you

    looking for the Americans?"

    Boulware was surprised. The whole thing was supposed to be top secret. It

    looked like security had gone all to hell. "Yes," he said. "I'm looking for

    the Americans."

I 'There's a phone call for you."

    Boulware was even more surprised. "No kidding!" The timing was phenomenal.

    Who the hell knew he was here?

He followed the guard into the hut and picked up the phone.

Yes?"

    "This is the American Consulate," said the voice. "What's your name?"

"Uh, what is this about?" Boulware said warily.

"Look, would you just tell me what you're doing there?"

    "I don't know who you are and I'm not going to tell you what I'm doing."

    "Okay, listen, I know who you are and I know what you're doing. If you have

    any problems, call me. Got a pencil?"

    Boulware took down the number, thanked the man, and hung up, mystified. An

    hour ago I didn't know I was going to be here, he thought, so how could

    anyone else? Least of all the American Consulate. He thought again about

    Ilsman. Maybe Ilsman was in touch with his bosses, the Turkish MIT, who

    were in touch with the CIA, who were in touch with the Consulate. 11sman

    could have asked somebody to make a call for him in Van, or even at the

    police station in Yuksekova.

    He wondered whether it was good or bad that the Consulate knew what was

    happening. He recalled the "help" Paul and Bill had got from the U.S.

    Embassy in Tehran: with friends in the State Department a man had no need

    of enemies.

    He pushed the Consulate to the back of his mind. The main problem now was,

    where was the Dirty Team?

    'He went back outside and looked across no-man's-land. He decided to stroll

    across and talk to the Iranians. He called to Ilsman and Charlie Brown to

    come with him.

As he approached the Iranian side he could see that the

342 Ken Folku

frontier guards were not in uniform. Presumably they were revolutionaries

who had taken over when the government fell.

    He said to Charlie: "Ask them if they've heard anything about some American

    businessmen coming out in two jeeps."

    Charlie did not need to translate the reply: the Iranians shook their heads

    vigorously.

    An inquisitive tribesman, with a ragged headband and an ancient rifle, came

    up on the Iranian side. There was an exchange of some length, then Charlie

    said: "This man says he knows where the Americans are and he will take you

    to them if you pay."

    Boulware wanted to know how much, but Ilsman did not want him to accept the

    offer at any price. Usman spoke forcefully to Charlie, and Charlie

    translated. "You're wearing a leather coat and leather gloves and a fine

    wristwatch."

    Boulware, who was into watches, was wearing one Mary had given him when

    they got married. "So?"

    "With clothes like that they think you're SAVAK. They hate SAVAK over

    there."

"I'll change my clothes. I have another coat in the car."

    "No," Charlie said. "You have to understand, they just want to get you over

    there and blow your head off."

"AD right," Boulware said.

    They walked back to the Turkish side. Since there was a post office so

    conveniently nearby, he decided to call Istanbul and check in with Ross

    Perot. He went into the post office. He had to sign his name. The call

    would take some time to place, the clerk told him.

    Boulware went back outside. The Turkish border guards were now getting

    edgy, Charlie told him. Some of the Iranians had wandered back with them,

    and the guards did not like people milling around in no-man's-land: it was

    disorderly.

Boulware thought: Well, I'm doing no good here.

    He said: "Would these guys call us, if the team comes across while we're

    back in Yuksekova?"

    Charlie asked them. The guards agreed. There was a hotel in the village,

    they said; they would call there.

    Boulware, Usman, Charlie, and the two sons of Mr. Fish's cousin got into

    the two cars and drove back to Yuksekova.

    There they checked into the worst hotel in the whole world. It had dirt

    floors. The bathroom was a hole in the ground under the

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 343

stain. All the beds were in one room. Charlie Brown ordered food, and it

came wrapped in newspaper.

    Boulware was not sure he had made the right decision in leaving the border

    station. So many things could go wrong: the guards might not phone as they

    had promised. He decided to accept the offer of help from the American

    Consulate, and ask them to seek permission for him to stay at the border

    station. He called the number he had been given on the hotel's single

    ancient wind-up telephone. He got through, but the line was bad, and both

    parties had trouble making themselves understood. Eventually the man at the

    other end said something about calling back, and hung up.

    Boulware stood by the fire, fretting. After a while he lost patience, and

    decided to return to the border without permission.

On the way they had a flat tire.

    They all stood in the road while the sons changed the wheel. llsman

    appeared nervous. Charlie explained: "He says this is a very dangerous

    place, the people are all murderers and bandits."

    Boulware was skeptical. lisman had agreed to do all this for a flat fee of

    eight thousand dollars, and Boulware now suspected the fat man was getting

    ready to up his price. "Ask him how many people were killed on this road

    last month," Boulware told Charlie.

    He watched Ilsman's face as he replied. Charlie translated: "Thirty-nine.

    ' I

    Ilsman looked serious. Boulware thought: Shit, this guy9s telling the

    goddam truth. He looked around. Mountains, snow . . . He shivered.

    3

In Rezaiyeh, Rashid took one of the Range Rovers and drove from the hotel

back to the school that had been turned into revolutionary headquarters.

    He wondered whether the deputy leader had called Tehran. Coburn had been

    unable to get a line the-previous night: would the revolutionary leadership

    have the same problem? Rashid thought they probably would. Now, if the

    deputy could not get through, what would he want to do? He had only two

    options:

344 Ken Folleu

hold the Americans, or let them go without checking. The man might feel

foolish about letting them go without checking: he might not want Rashid to

know that things were so loosely organized here. Rashid decided to act as if

he assumed the call had been made and verification completed.

    He went into the courtyard. The deputy leader was there, leaning against a

    Mercedes. Rashid started talking to him about the problem of bringing six

    thousand Americans through the town on the way to the border. How many

    people could be accommodated overnight in Rezaiyeh? What facilities were

    there at the Sero border station for processing them? He emphasized that

    the Ayatollah Khomeini had given instructions for Americans to be well

    treated as they left Iran, for the new government did not want to quarrel

    with the U.S.A. He got onto the subject of documentation: perhaps the

    Rezaiyeh committee should issue passes to the Americans authorizing them to

    go through Sero. He, Rashid, would certainly need such a pass today, to

    take these six Americans through. He suggested the deputy and he should go

    into the school and draft a pass.

The deputy agreed.

1hey went into the library.

Rashid found paper and pen and gave them to the deputy.

    "What should we write?" said Rashid. "Probably we should say, the person

    who carries this letter can take six Americans through Sero. No, say

    Barzagan or Sero, in case Sero is closed.

The deputy wrote.

    "Maybe we should say, um, It is expected that all guards will give their

    best cooperation and assistance, they aft fully inspected and identified,

    and if necessary escort them."

IMe deputy wrote it down.

Then he signed his name.

    Rashid said: "Maybe we should put, Islamic Revolution Commandant

    Committee."

IMe deputy did so.

    Rashid looked at the document. It seemed somehow inadequate, improvised. It

    needed something to make it look official. He found a rubber stamp and an

    inking pad, and stamped the letter. Then he read what the stamp said:

    "Library of the School of Religion, Rezaiyeh. Founded 1344."

Rashid put the document in his pocket.

    "We should probably print six thousand of these, so they can just be

    signed," he said.

    ON wINGS OF EAGLES 345

The deputy nodded.

"We can talk some more about these arrangements tomorrow,

Rashid went on. "I'd like to go to Sero now, to discuss the problem with the

border officials there."

"Okay. "

Rashid walked away.

Nothing was impossible.

    He got into the Range Rover. It was a good idea to go to the border, he

    decided: he could find out what the problems might be before making the

    trip with the Americans.

    On the outskirts of Rezaiyeh was a roadblock manned by teenage boys with

    rifles. They gave Rashid no trouble, but he worried about how they might

    react to six Americans: the kids were evidently itching to use their guns.

    After that the road was clear. It was a dirt road, but smooth enough, and

    he made good speed. He picked up a hitchhiker and asked him about crossing

    the border on horseback. No problem, said the hitchhiker. It could be done,

    and as it happened, his brother had horses ...

    Rashid did the forty-mile journey in a little over an hour. He pulled up at

    the border station in his Range Rover. The guards were suspicious of him.

    He showed them the pass written by the deputy leader. The guards called

    Rezaiyeh and-they said--spoke to the deputy, who vouched for Rashid.

    He stood looking across to Turkey. It was a pleasant sight. They had all

    been through a lot of anguish just to walk across there. For Paul and Bill

    it would mean freedom, home, and family. For all the EDS men it would be

    the end of a nightmare. For Rashid it meant something else: America.

    He understood the psychology of EDS executives. They had a strong sense of

    obligation. If you helped them, they liked to show their appreciation, to

    keep the books balanced . He knew he only had to ask, and they would take

    him with them to the land of his dreams.

    The border station was under the control of the village of Sero, just half

    a mile away down a mountain track. Rashid decided he would go and see the

    village chief, to establish a friendly relationship and smooth the way for

    later.

    He was about to turn away when two cars drove up on the Turldsh side. A

    tall black man in a leather coat got out of the first car and came to the

    chain on the edge of no-man's-land.

    Rashid's heart leaped. He knew that man! He started waving and yelled:

    "Ralph! Ralph Boulware! Hey, Ralph!"

346 Ken Follett

    4

Thursday morning found Glenn Jackson-hunter, Baptist, and Rocket Man-in the