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
skies over Tehran in a chartered jet.
Jackson had stayed in Kuwait after reporting on the possibility of Paul and
Bill coming out of Iran that way. On Sunday, the day Paul and Bill got out
of jail, Simons had sent orders, via Merv Stauffer, that Jackson was to go
to Amman, Jordan, and there try to charter a plane to fly into Iran.
Jackson had reached Amman on Monday and had gone to work straightaway. He
knew that Perot had flown into Tehran from Amman on a chartered jet of Arab
Wings. He also knew that the president of Arab Wings, Akel Biltaji, had
been helpful, allowing Perot to go in with NBC's television tapes as a
cover. Now Jackson contacted BiltaJi and asked for his help again.
He told BiltaJi that EDS had two men in Iran who had to be brought out. He
invented false names for Paul and Bill. Even though Tehran Airport was
closed, Jackson wanted to fly in and try to land. Biltaji was willing to
give it a try.
However, on Wednesday Stauffer-on Simons's instructionschanged Jackson's
orders. Now his mission was to check on the Clean Team: the Dirty Team was
no longer in Tehran, as far as Dallas knew.
On Thursday Jackson took off from Amman and headed east.
As they came down toward the bowl in the mountains where Tehran nestled,
two aircraft took off from the city.
The planes came closer, and Jackson saw that they were fighter jets of the
h-aman Air Force.
He wondered what would happen next.
His pilot's radio came to life with a burst of static. As the fighters
circled, the pilot talked: Jackson could not understand the conversation,
but he was glad the Iranians were talking rather than shooting.
The discussion went on. The pilot seemed to be arguing. Eventually he
turned to Jackson and said: "We have to go back. They won't let us land."
"What will they do if we land anyway?"
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 347
"Shoot us down."
"Okay," said Jackson. "We'll try again this afternoon.
On Thursday morning in Istanbul, an English-language newspaper was delivered
to Perot's suite at the Sheraton.
He picked it up and eagerly read the front-page story about yesterday, s
takeover of the American Embassy in Tehran. None of the Clean Team was
mentioned, he was relieved to see. The only injury had been suffered by a
marine sergeant, Kenneth Krause. However, Krause was not getting the
medical attention he needed, according to the newspaper.
Perot called John Carlen, the captain of the Boeing 707, and asked him to
come to the suite. He showed Carlen the newspaper and said: "How would you
feel about flying into Tehran tonight and picking up the wounded marine?"
Carlen, a laid-back Californian with graying hair and a tan, was very cool.
"We can do that," he said.
Perot was surprised that Carlen did not even hesitate. He would have to fly
through the mountains at night with no airtraffic control to help him, and
land at a closed airport. "Don't you want to talk to the rest of the crew?"
Perot asked.
"No, they'll want to do it. The people who own the airplane will go
bananas."
"Don't tell them. I'll be responsible.-
"I'll need to know exactly where that marine is going to be," Carlen went
on. "The
Embassy will have to get him to the airport. I know a lot of
people at that airport-I can talk my way in, bending the rules a little
bit, and either talk my way out again or just take off."
Perot thought: And the Clean Team will be the stretcher bearers.
He called Dallas and reached Sally Walther, his secretary. He asked her to
patch him through to General Wilson, commandant of the Marine Corps. He and
Wilson were friends.
Wilson came on the line.
"I'm in Turkey on business ,, Perot told him. "I've just read about
Sergeant Krause. I have a plane here. If the Embassy can get Krause to the
airport, we will fly in tonight and pick him up and see he gets proper
medical care."
"All right," said Wilson. "If he's dying I want you to pick him up. If not,
I won't risk your crew. I'll get back to you."
Perot got Sally back on the line. There was more bad news. A
348 Ken Follett
press officer in the State Department's Iran Task Force had talked to Robert
Dudney, Washington correspondent for the Dallas Times-Herald, and revealed
that Paul and Bill were on their way out overland.
Perot cursed the State Department yet again. If Dudney published the story,
and the news reached Tehran, Dadgar would surely intensify border security.
The seventh floor in Dallas blamed Perot for all this. He had leveled with
the Consul, who had come to see him the night before, and they believed the
leak started with the Consul. They were now frantically trying to get the
story killed, but the newspaper was making no promises.
General Wilson called back. Sergeant Krause was not dying: Perot's help was
not required.
Perot forgot about Krause and concentrated on Ins own problems.
The Consul called him. He had tried his best, but he could not help Perot
buy or rent a small aircraft. It was possible to charter a plane to go from
one airport to another within Turkey, but that was all.
Perot said nothing to him about the press leak.
He called in Dick Douglas and Julian "Scratch" Kanauch, the two spare
pilots he had brought specifically to fly small aircraft into Iran, and
told them he had failed to find any such aircraft.
"Don't worry," said Douglas. "We'll get an airplane."
"How?"
"Don't ask."
:'No, I want to know how.
'I've operated in eastern Turkey. I know where there are planes. If you
need 'em, we'll steal 9em."
:'Have you thought this through?" said Perot.
'You think it through," Douglas said. "If we get shot down over Iran, what
difference does it make that we stole the plane? If we don't get shot down,
we can put the planes back where we got them. Even if they have a few holes
in them, we'll be out of the area before anybody knows. What else is there
to think about?"
"That settles it," said Perot. "We're going."
He sent John Carlen and Ron Davis to the airport to file a flight plan to
Van, the nearest airport to the border.
Davis called from the airport to say that the 707 could not land at Van: it
was a Turkish-language-only airport, so no foreign
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 349
planes were allowed to land except U.S. military planes carrying
interpreters.
Perot called Mr. Fish and asked him to arrange to fly the team to Van. Mr.
Fish called back a few minutes later to say it was all fixed. He would go
with the team as guide. Perot was surprised: until now, Mr. Fish had been
adamant that he would not go to eastern Turkey. Perhaps he had become
infected by the spirit of adventure.
However, Perot himself would have to stay behind. He was the hub of the
wheel: he had to stay in telephone contact with the outside world, to
receive reports from Boulware, from Dallas, from the Clean Team, and from
the Dirty Team. If the 707 had been able to land at Van, Perot could have
gone, for the plane's single-sideband radio enabled him to make phone calls
all over the world; but without that radio he would be out of touch in
eastern Turkey, and there would be no link between the fugitives in Iran
and the people who were coming to meet them.
So he sent Pat Sculley, Jim Schwebach, Ron Davis, Mr. Fish, and the pilots
Dick Douglas and Julian Kanauch to Van; and he appointed Pat Sculley leader
of the Turkish Rescue Team.
When they had gone he was dead in the water again. They were just another
bunch of his men off doing dangerous things in dangerous places. He could
only sit and wait for news.
He spent a lot of time thinking about John Carlen and the crew of the
Boeing 707. He had only known them for a few days: they were ordinary
Americans. Yet Carlen had been prepared to risk his life to fly into Tehran
and pick up a wounded marine. As Simons would say: This is what Americans
are supposed to do for one another. It made Perot feel pretty good, despite
everything.
The phone rang.
He answered. "Ross Perot."
"This is Ralph Boulware.-
"Hi, Ralph, where are you?"
"I'm at the border."
"Good! -
"I've just seen Rashid."
Perot's heart leaped. "Great! What did he say?"
. 'They're safe.
"Thank God!"
"They're in a hotel thirty or forty miles from the border. Rashid is just
scouting the territory in advance. He's gone back now. He says they'll
probably cross tomorrow, but that's just his
350 Ken Follett
idea, and Simons may think otherwise. If they're that close I don't see
Simons waiting until morning."
"Right. Now, Pat Sculley and Mr. Fish and the rest of the guys are on their
way to you. They're flying to Van, then they'll rent a bus. Now, where will
they find you?"
"I'm based in a village called Yuksekova, closest place to the border, at
a hotel. It's the only hotel in the district."
"I'll tell Sculley."
"Okay. 11
Perot hung up. Oh, boy, he thought; at last things are beginning to go
right!
Pat Sculley's orders from Perot were to go to the border, ensure that the
Dirty Team got across safely, and bring them to Istanbul. If the Dirty Team
failed to reach the border, he was to go into Iran and find them, preferably
in a plane stolen by Dick Douglas, or failing that, by road.
Sculley and the Turkish Rescue Team took a scheduled flight from Istanbul
to Ankara, where a chartered jet was waiting for them. (The charter plane
would take them to Van and bring them back: it would not go anywhere they
pleased. The only way of making the pilot take them into Iran would have
been to hijack the plane.)
The arrival of a jet seemed to be a big event in the town of Van. Getting
off the plane, they were met by a contingent of policemen who looked ready
to give them a hard time. But Mr. Fish went into a huddle with the police
chief and came out smiling.
"Now, listen," said Mr. Fish. "We're going to check into the best hotel in
town, but I want you to know it's not the Sheraton, so please don't
complain."
They went off in two taxis.
The hotel ha
d a high central hall with three floors of rooms reached via
galleries, so that every room door could be seen from the hall. When the
Americans walked in, the hall was full of Turks, drinking beer and watching
a soccer match on a black-and-white TV, yelling and cheering. As the Turks
noticed the strangers, the room quieted down until there was complete
silence.
They were assigned rooms. Each bedroom had two cots and a hole in the
comer, screened by a shower curtain, for a toilet,. There were plank floors
and whitewashed walls without windows.
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 351
The rooms were infested with cockroaches. On each floor was one bathroom.
Sculley and Mr. Fish went to get a bus to take diem all to the border. A
Mercedes picked them up outside the hotel and took them to what appeared to
be an electrical appliance store with a few ancient TV sets in the window.
The place was closed-4t was evening by now-but Mr. Fish banged on the iron
grille protecting the windows, and someone came out.
They went into the back and sat at a table under a single light bulb.
Sculley understood none of the conversation, but by the end of it Mr. Fish
had negotiated a bus and a driver. They returned to the hotel in the bus.
The rest of the team were gathered in Sculley's room. Nobody wanted to sit
on these beds, let alone sleep in diem. They all wanted to leave for the
border immediately, but Mr. Fish was hesitant. "It's two o'clock in the
morning," he said. "And the police are watching the hotel."
"Does that matter?" said Sculley.
"It means more questions, more trouble."
"Let's give it a try."
They all trooped downstairs. The manager appeared, looking anxious, and
started to question Mr. Fish. Then, sure enough, two policemen came in from
outside and joined in the discussion.
Mr. Fish turned to Sculley and said: "They don't want us to go. 11
-Why not?"
"We look very suspicious, don't you realize that9-
"Look, is it against the law for us to go?"
"No, but-"
"Then we're going. Just tell them."
There was more argument in Turkish, but finally the policemen and the hotel
manager appeared to give in, and the team boarded the bus.
They left town. The temperature dropped rapidly as they drove up into the
Follett, Ken - On Wings of Eagles.txt Page 46