On Wings of Eagles (59 page)

    The man seemed to have dealt with passports before. He examined each one

    carefully, checking the photograph against the face of the owner. Then, in

    perfect English, he asked questions:

358 Ken Follen

Where were you born? Where do you live? What is your date of birth?

Fortunately Simons had made Paul and Bill learn every piece of information

contained in their false passports, so Paul was able to answer the overcoat

man's questions without hesitation.

    Reluctantly, Rashid led the man to the first Range Rover. Bill and Keane

    Taylor had changed seats, so that Bill was on the far side, away from the

    light. The man went through the same routine. He looked at Bill's passport

    last. Then he said: "The picture is not of this man."

    "Yes, it is," Rashid said frantically. "He's been very sick. He's lost

    weight, his skin has changed color--don't you understand that he's dying?

    He has to get back to America as quickly as possible so he can have the

    right medical attention, and you are delaying him--do you want him to die

    because the Iranian people had no pity for a sick man? Is this how you

    uphold the honor of our country? Is--

"They're Americans," the man said. "Follow me."

He turned and went into the little brick hut beside the bridge.

    Rashid followed him in. "You have no right to stop us," he said. "I have

    been instructed by the Islamic Revolution Commandant Committee in Rezaiyeh

    to escort these people to the border, and to delay us is a

    counterrevolutionary crime against the Iranian people." He flourished the

    letter written by the deputy leader and stamped with the library stamp.

    The man looked at it. "Still, that one American does not look like the

    picture in his passport."

    "I told you, he has been sick!" Rashid yelled. "They have been cleared to

    the border by the revolutionary committee! Now get these bandits out of my

    way!"

    "We have our own revolutionary committee," the man said. "You will all have

    to come to our headquarters."

Rashid had no choice but to agree.

Jay Coburn watched Rashid come out of the hut with the man in the long black

overcoat. Rashid looked really shook.

    "We're going to their village to be checked out," Rashid said. "We have to

    go in their cars."

    It was looking bad, Coburn thought. All the other times they had been

    arrested, they had been allowed to stay in the Range Rovers, which made

    them feel a little less like prisoners. Getting out of the cars was like

    losing touch with base.

Also, Rashid had never looked so frightened.

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 359

    They all got into the tribesmen's vehicles, a pickup truck and a battered

    little station wagon. They were driven along a dirt track through the

    mountains. The Range Rovers followed, driven by tribesmen. The track

    twisted away into darkness. Well, shit, this is it, Coburn thought; nobody

    will ever hear from us again.

    After three or four miles they came to the village. There was one brick

    building with a courtyard: the rest were mud-brick huts with thatched

    roofs. But in the courtyard were six or seven fine jeeps. Coburn said:

    "Jesus, these people live by stealing cars." Two Range Rovers would make a

    nice addition to their collection, he thought.

    The two vehicles containing the Americans were parked in the courtyard;

    then the Range Rovers; then two more jeeps, blocking the exit and

    precluding a quick getaway.

They all got out.

    The man in the overcoat said: "You need not be afraid. We just need to talk

    with you awhile, then you can go on." He went into the brick building.

"He's lying!" Rashid hissed.

    They were herded into the building and told to take off their shoes. The

    tribesmen were fascinated by Keane Taylor's cowboy boots: one of them

    picked up the boots and inspected them, then passed them around for

    everyone to see.

    The Americans were led into a big, bare room, with a Persian rug on the

    floor and bundles of rolled-up bedding pushed against the walls. It was

    dimly lit by some kind of lantern. They sat in a circle, surrounded by

    tribesmen with rifles.

On trial again, just like Mahabad, Coburn thought.

He kept an eye on Simons.

    In came the biggest, ugliest mullah they had ever seen; and the

    interrogation began again.

    Rashid did the talking, in a mixture of Farsi, Turkish, and English. He

    produced the letter from the library again, and gave the name of the deputy

    leader. Someone went off to check with the committee in Rezaiyeh. Coburn

    wondered how they would do that: the oil lamp indicated there was no

    electricity here, so how could they have phones? All the passports were

    examined again. People kept coming in and going out.

    What if they have got a phone? wondered Coburn. And what if the committee

    in Rezaiyeh has heard from Dadgar?

    We might be better off if they do check us out, he thought; at least that

    way somebody knows we're here. At the moment we

360 Ken Folktt

could be killed, our bodies would disappear without trace in the snow, and

nobody would ever know we had been here.

    A tribesman came in, handed the library letter to Rashid, and spoke to the

    mullah.

"It's okay," Rashid said. "We've been cleared."

Suddenly the whole atmosphere changed.

    The ugly mullah turned into the Jolly Green Giant and shook hands with

    everyone. "He welcomes you to his village," Rashid translated. Tea was

    brought. Rashid said: "We are invited to be the guests of the village for

    the night."

    Simons said: "Tell him definitely no. Our friends are waiting for us at the

    border."

    A small boy of about ten years appeared. In an effort to cement the new

    friendship, Keane Taylor took out a photograph of his son Michael, aged

    eleven, and showed it to the tribesmen. They got very excited, and Rashid

    said: "They want to have their pictures taken. -

Gayden said: "Keane, get out your camera."

"I'm out of film," said Taylor.

"Keane, get out your fucking camera."

    Taylor took out his camera. In fact, he had three shots left, but he had no

    flash, and would have needed a camera far more sophisticated than his

    Instamatic to take pictures by the light of the lantern. But the tribesmen

    lined up, waving their rifles in the air, and Taylor had no option but to

    snap them.

    It was incredible. Five minutes earlier these people had seemed ready to

    murder the Americans: now they were horsing around, hooting and hollering

    and having a good time.

They could probably change again just as quickly.

    Taylor's sense of humor took over and he started hamming it up, making like

    a press photographer, telling the tribesmen to smile or move closer

    together so he could get them all in, "taking" dozens of shots.

    More tea was brought. Coburn groaned inwardly. He had drunk so much tea in

    the last few days that he felt awash with it. He surreptitiously poured his

    out, making an ugly brown stain on the gorgeous nig.

Simons said to Rashid: "Tell them we have to go."

    'Mere was a short exchange, then Rashid said: "We must drink tea once more.

    "

    "No," said Simons decisively, and he stood up. "Let's move." Smiling

    calmly, nodding and bowing to the tribesmen, Simons

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 361

started giving very sharp commatids in a voice that belied his courteous

demeanon "On your feet, everybody. Get your shoes on. Come on, let's get out

of here, let's go. "

    They all got up. Every man in the tribe wanted to shake hands with every

    one of the visitors. Simons kept herding them toward the door. They found

    their shoes and put them on, still bowing and shaking hands. At last they

    got outside and climbed into the Range Rovers. There was a wait, while the

    villagers maneuvered the two jeeps blocking the exit. At last they moved

    off, following the same two jeeps along the mountain track.

They were still alive, still free, still moving.

The tribesmen took them to the bridge, then sad goodbye.

Rashid said: "But aren't you going to escort us to the border?"

    "No," one of them replied. "Our territory ends at the bridge. The other

    side belongs to Sero. "

    The man in the long black overcoat shook hands with everyone in both Range

    Rovers. "Don't forget to send us the pictures," he said to Taylor.

"You bet," said Taylor with a straight face.

    The chain across the bridge was down. The two Range Rovers drove to the far

    side and accelerated up the road.

    "I hope we don't have the same trouble at the next village," said Rashid.

    "I saw the head man this afternoon and arranged everything with him."

The Range Rover built up speed.

"Slow down," said Simons.

"No, we must hurry."

They were a mile or so from the border.

    Simons said: "Slow the goddarn jeep down, I don't want to get killed at

    this point in the gaine - "

    They were driving past what looked like a filling station. There was a

    little hut with a light on inside. Suddenly Taylor yelled: "Stop! Stop!"

Simons said: "Rashid-"

In the following car Paul honked and flashed his headlights.

    Out of the comer of his eye Rashid saw two men running out from the filling

    station, locking and loading their rifles as they ran.

He stood on the brake.

    The car screeched to a halt. Paul had already stopped, right by the gas

    station. Rashid backed up and jumped out.

The two men pointed their nfles at him.

362 Ken Follett

Here we go again, he thought.

    He went into his routine, but they weren't interested. One of them got into

    each car. Rashid climbed back into the driving seat.

"Drive on," he was told.

    A minute later they were at the foot of the hill leading to the border.

    They could see the lights of the frontier station up above. Rashid's captor

    said: "Turn right."

"No," said Rashid. "We've been cleared to the border and--

The man raised his Me and thumbed the safety.

    Rashid stopped the car. 'Usten, I came to your village this afterntoon and

    got permission to pass-"

"Go down there."

    They were less than half a mile from Turkey and freedom. There were seven

    of the Dirty Team against two guards. It was tempting ...

    A jeep came tearing down the hill from the border station and skidded to a

    stop in front of the Range Rover. An excited young man jumped out, carrying

    a pistol, and ran over to Rashid's window.

    Rashid wound down the window and said: "I'm under orders from the Islamic

    Revolution Commandant Committee-"

    The excited young man pointed his pistol at Rashid's head. "Go down the

    track!" he screamed.

Rashid gave in.

    They drove along the track. It was even narrower than the last. The village

    was less than a mile away. When they arrived, Rashid jumped out of the car,

    saying: "Stay here-I'll deal with this. "

    Several men came out of the huts to see what was going on. They looked even

    more like bandits than the inhabitants of the last village. Rashid said

    loudly: "Where is the head man?"

:'Not here," someone replied.

    Then fetch him. I spoke to him this afternoon-I am a friend of his--I have

    permission from him to cross the border with these Americans. -

:'Why are you with Americans?" someone asked.

    'I am under orders from the Islamic Revolution Commandant Corninitte

    .4e,_1 1

    Suddenly, out of nowhere, appeared the head man of the village, to whom

    Rashid had spoken in the afternoon. He came up and kissed Rashid on both

    cheeks.

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 363

    In the second Range Rover, Gayden said: "Hey, it's looking good!"

    "Thank God for that," said Coburn. "I couldn't drink any more tea to save

    my life.."

    The man who had kissed Rashid came over. He was wearing a heavy Afghan

    coat. He leaned through the car window and shook hands with everyone.

Rashid and the two guards got back into the cars;

    A few minutes later they were climbing the hill to the frontier station.

    Paul, driving the second car, suddenly thought about Dadgar again. Four

    hours ago, in Rezaiyeh, it had seemed sensible to abandon the idea of

    crossing the border on horseback, avoiding the road and the station. Now he

    was not so sure. Dadgar might have sent pictures of Paul and Bill to every

    airport, seaport, and border crossing. Even if there were no government

    people here, the photographs might be stuck up on a wall somewhere. The

    Iranians seemed to be glad of any excuse to detain Americans and question

    them. AD along EDS had underestimated Dadgar ...

    The frontier station was brightly lit by high neon lamps. The two can drove

    slowly along, past the buildings, and stopped where a chain across the road

    marked the limit of Iratlian territory.

Rashid got out.

He spoke to the guards at the station, then came back and said: 'They don't

have a key to unloose the chain."

They all got out.

    Simons said to Rashid: "Go over to the Turkish side and see if Boulware's

    there."

Rashid disappeared.

    Simons lifted the chain. It would not go high enough to let a Range Rover

    pass underneath.

    Somebody found a few planks and leaned them on the chain, to see whether

    the cars could be driven over the chain on the planks. Simons shook his

    head: it was not going to work.

He turned to Coburn. "Is there a hacksaw in the tool kit?"

Coburn went back to the car.

    Paul and Gayden lit cigarettes. Gayden said: "You need to decide what you

    want to do with that passport."

"What do you mean?"

    "Under American law there's a ten-thousand-dollar fine and a jail term for

    using a false passport. I'll pay the fine, but you'll have to serve the

    jail term."

364 Ken Folleu

    Paul considered. So far he had broken no laws. He had shown his false

    passport, but only to bandits and revolutionaries, who had no real right to

    demand passports anyway. It would be kind of nice to stay on the right side

    of the law.

    "That's right," said Simons. "Once we're out of this goddam country we

    break no laws. I don't want to have to get you out of a Turkish jail."

    Paul gave the passport to Gayden. Bill did the same. Gayden gave the

    passports to Taylor, who put them down the sides of his cowboy boots.

    Coburn came back with a hacksaw. Simons took it from him and started sawing

    the chain.

'Me Iranian guards rushed over and started yelling at him.

Simons stopped.

    Rashid came back from the Turkish side, trailing a couple of guards and an

    officer. He spoke to the Iranians, then told Simons: "You can't cut the

    chain. They say we must wait until morning. Also, the Turks don't want us

    to cross tonight."

Simons muttered to Paul: "You may be about to get sick."

"What do you mean?"

"If I tell you so, just get sick, okay?"

    Paul saw what Simons was thinking: the Turkish guards wanted to sleep, not

    spend the night with a crowd of Americans, but if one of the Americans was

    in urgent need of hospital treatment they could hardly turn him away.

The Turks went back over to their own side.

"What do we do now?" Coburn said.

"Wait," said Simons.

    All but two of the Iranian guards went into their guardhouse: it was

    bitterly cold.

"Make like we're prepared to wait all night," said Simons.

The other two guards drifted off.

    "Gayden, Taylor," Simons said. "Go in there and offer the guards money to

    take care of our cars."

    "Take care of them?" Taylor said incredulously. "They'll just steal them."

    "That's right," said Simons. "They'll be able to steal them-4f they let us

    go."

Taylor and Gayden went into the guardhouse.

    "This is it," said Simons. "Coburn, get Paul and Bill and just walk across

    there."

I 'Let's go, you guys," said Coburn.

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 365

    Paul and Bill stepped over the chain and started walking. Coburn stayed

    close behind them. "Just keep walking, regardless of anything else that

    might happen," Coburn said. "If you hear yelling, or gunfire, you run, but

    under no circumstances do we stop or go back."

    Simons came up behind them. "Walk faster," he said. "I don't want you two

    getting shot out here in the bloody middle of nowhere. "

    They could hear some kind of argument beginning back on the Iranian side.

Coburn said: "Y'all don't turn round, just go."

    Back on the Iranian side, Taylor was holding out a fistful of money to two

    guards who were glancing first at the four men walking across the border

    and then at the two Range Rovers, worth at least twenty thousand dollars

    each ...

    Rashid was saying: "We don't know when we'll be able to come back for these

    cars-it could be a long time-"

    One of the guards said: "You were all to stay here until the morning-" .

    "The cars are really very valuable, and they must be looked after-"

    The guards looked from the cars to the people walking across to Turkey, and

    back to the cars again, and they hesitated too long.

    Paul and Bill reached the Turkish side and walked into the guard hut.

    Bill looked at his wristwatch. It was eleven forty-five P.m. on Thursday,

    February 15, the day after Valentine's Day. On February 15, 1960, he had

    slipped an engagement ring on Emily's finger. The same day six years later

    Jackie had been born---today was her thirteenth birthday. Bill thought:

    Here's your present, Jackie--you still have a father.

Coburn followed them into the hut.

    Paul put his arm around Coburn and said: "Jay, you just hit a home run. "

    Back on the Iranian side, the guards saw that half the Americans were

    already in Turkey, and they decided to quit while they were ahead and take

    the money and the cars.

Rashid, Gayden, and Taylor walked up to the chain.

    At the chain Gayden stopped. "Go ahead," he said. "I want to be the last

    guy out of here."

And he was.

366 Ken Follen

    2

At the hotel in Yuksekova, they sat around a smoky pot-bellied stove: Ralph

Boulware, Ilsman the fat secret agent, Charlie Brown the interpreter, and

the two sons of Mr. Fish's cousin. They were waiting for a call from the

border station. Dinner was served: some kind of meat, maybe lamb, wrapped in

newspapers.

    Ilsman said he had seen someone taking photographs of Rashid and Boulware

    at the border. With Charlie Brown traffilating, Ilsman said: "If you ever

    have a problem about those photographs, I can solve it. "

Boulware wondered what he meant.

    Charlie said: "He believes you are an honest man, and what you are doing is

    noble."

    It was kind of a sinister offer, Boulware felt; like a Mafioso telling you

    that you are his friend.

    By midnight there was still no word either from the Dirty Team or from Pat

    Sculley and Mr. Fish, who were supposed to be on their way here with a bus.

    Boulware decided to go to bed. He always drank water at bedtime. There was

    a pitcher of water on a table. Hell, he thought, I haven't died yet. He

    took a drink, and found himself swallowing something solid. Oh, God, he

    thought; what was that? He made himself forget about it.

    He was just getting into bed when a boy called him to the phone.

It was Rashid.

"Hey, Ralph?"

"Yes. "

"We're at the border!"

"I'll be right there."

    He rounded up the others and paid the hotel bill. With the sons of Mr.

    Fish's cousin driving, they headed down the road where,--as Ilsman kept

    saying--thirty-nine people had been kWed by bandits the previous month. On

    the way they had yet another flat tire. The sons had to change the wheel in

    the dark, because the batteries in their flashlight had gone dead. Boulware

    did not know whether to be hightened, standing there in the road waiting.

    Usman could still be a liar, a confidence trickster. On the other

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 367

hand, his credentials had protected them all. If the Turkish secret service

was like Turkish hotels, hell, Ilsman could be their answer to James Bond.

The wheel was changed and the cars moved off again.

    They drove through the night. It's going to be all right, Boulware thought.

    Paul and Bill are at the border, Sculley and hft. Fish are on their way

    here with a bus, Perot is in Istanbul with a plane. We're going to make it.

    He reached the border. Lights were on in the guard huts. He jumped out of

    the car and ran inside.

A great cheer went up.

    There they all were: Paul and Bill, Coburn, Simons, Taylor, Gayden, and

    Rashid.

Boulware shook hands warmly with Paul and Bill.

    They all started picking up their coats and bags. "Hey, hey, wait a

    minute," Boulware said. "Mr. Fish is on the way with a bus." He took from

    his pocket a bottle of Chivas Regal he had been saving for this moment.

    "But we can all have a drink!"

    They all had a celebratory drink except Rashid, who did not take alcohol.

    Simons got Boulware in a comer. "All right, what's happening?"

    "I talked to Ross this afternoon," Boulware told him. "Mr. Fish is on his

    way here, with Sculley, Schwebach, and Davis. They're in a bus. Now, we

    could all leave right now--the twelve of us could get into the two cars,

    just about-but I think we should wait for the bus. For one thing, we'll all

    be together, so nobody can get lost anymore. For another, the road out of

    here is supposed to be Blood Alley, you know; bandits and like that. I

    don't know whether that's been exaggerated, but they keep saying it, and

    I'm beginning to believe it. If it's a dangerous road, we'll be safer all