spoke to T. J. Marquez.
T.J. said: "I called an international lawyer in Washington, and he thinks
there is an extradition treaty between Iran and Germany. Also, he said the
Germans are kind of legalistic about stuff like this, and if they got a
request to pick up Paul and Bill, hell, they'd probably go right ahead and
do it."
Perot repeated all of that to Simons.
"Okay," said Simons. "We're not going to take any chances at this point in
the game. There , s a movie house with three screens down at the basement
level in this airport. Paul and Bill can hide in them ... where's Bill?"
"Gone to buy toothpaste," someone said.
. ~Jay, go find him."
Coburn went out.
Simons said: "Paul goes into one theater, with Jay. Bill goes into another,
with Keane. Pat Sculley stands guard outside. He has a ticket, so he can go
in and check on the others."
It was interesting, Perot thought, to see the switches turn and
392 Ken FoUett
the wheels start rolling as Simons changed from an old man relaxing on a
plane to a commando leader again.
Simons said: "The entrance to the train station is down in the basement,
near the movies. If there's any sign of trouble Sculley gets the four men
out of the movies and they all take a subway downtown. They rent a car and
drive to England. If nothing happens, we get them out of the movies when
we're about to board the plane. All right, let's do it."
Bill was down in the shopping precinct. He had changed some money and
bought toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a comb. He decided that a fresh new
shut would make him feel human again, so he went to change some more money.
He was standing in line at the currency-exchange booth when Coburn tapped
turn on the shoulder.
"Ross wants to see you in the hotel," Coburn said.
11.197
Vhat for?"
"I can't talk about it now, you need to come on back."
"You've got to be kidding!"
.IWIs go. 11
They went to Perot's room, and Perot explained to Bill what was happening.
Bill could hardly believe it. He had thought for sure he was safe in modem,
civilized Germany. Would he ever be safe? he wondered. Would Dadgar pursue
hun to the ends of the earth, never resting until Bill was returned to Iran
or killed?
Coburn did not know whether there was any real chance of Paul and Bill
getting into trouble hem in Frankfurt, but he did know the value of
Simons's elaborate precautions. Much of what Simons had planned, over the
past seven weeks, had come to nothing: the attack on the fust jail, the
idea of snatching Paul and Bill from house arrest, the route out via
Kuwait. But then, some of the contingencies for which Simons planned had
come to pus, often the most farfetched ones: the Gasr Prison had been
stormed and Rashid was there; the road to Sero, which Simons and Coburn had
carefully reconnoitered, had in the end been their route out; even making
Paul and Bill learn all the inforniation on their false passports had
turned out to be crucial when the man in the long black overcoat started
asking questions. Coburn needed no convincing: whatever Simons said was
okay with him.
They went down to the movie house. There were three films: two were prono
movies and the third was Jaws 11. Bill and Taylor got Jaws 11. Paul and
Coburn went in to see something about naked South Sea maidens.
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 393
Paul sat staring at the screen, bored and fired. The movie was in German,
not that the dialogue appeared to count for much. What could be worse, he
thought, than a bad X-rated movie? Suddenly he heard a loud snort. He
looked at Coburn.
Coburn was fast asleep, snoring.
When John Howell and the rest of the Clean Team landed at Frankfurt, Simons
had everything set up for a quick turnaround.
Ron Davis was at the arrival gate, waiting to pun the Clean Team out of the
line and direct them to another gate where the Boeing 707 was parked. Ralph
Boulware was watching from a distance: as soon as he saw the first member
of the Clean Team arrive, he would go down to the movie theater and tell
Sculley to round up the guys inside. Jim Schwebach was in the roped-off
press area, where reporters were waiting to see the American evactWes. He
was sitting next to writer Pierre Salinger (who did not know how close he
was to a realty good story) and pretending to read a furniture
advertisement in a German newspaper. Schwebach's job was to tail the Clean
Team from one gate to the other, just to make sure no one was following
them. If there was trouble, Schwebach and Davis would start a disturbance.
It would not matter much if they were arrested by the Germans, for there
was no reason for them to be extradited to Iran.
The plan went like clockwork. There was only one hitch: Rich and Cathy
Gallagher did not want to go to Dallas. They had no friends or farmly
there, they were not sure what their future would be, they did not know
whether the dog, Buffy, would be allowed to enter the U.S.A., and they did
not want to get on another plane. They said goodbye and went off to make
their own arrangements.
The rest of the Clean Team---John Howell, Bob Young, and Joe
Poch6--followed Ron Davis and boarded the Boeing 707. Jim Schwebach tailed
them. Ralph Boulware rounded up everyone else, and they all got on board
for the flight home.
Merv Stauffer in Dallas had called Frankfurt Airport and ordered food for
the flight. He had asked for thirty superdeluxe meals, each including fish,
fowl, and beef, six seafood trays with sauce, horseradish and lemon; six
hors d'oeuvre trays; six sandwich trays with ham-and-cheese, roast beef,
turkey, and Swiss cheese; six dip trays with raw vegetables and
blue-cheese-andvinaigrette dip; three cheese trays with assorted breads and
crackers; four deluxe pastry trays; four fresh-fruit trays; four bottles of
394 Ken FoUett
brandy; twenty Seven-Ups and twenty ginger ales; ten club sodas and ten
tonics; ten quarts of orange juice; fifty cartons of milk; four gallons of
freshly brewed coffee in Thermos bottles; one hundred sets of plastic
cutlery consisting of knife, fork, and spoon; six dozen paper plates in two
sizes; six dozen plastic glasses; six dozen Styrofoam cups; two cartons each
of Kent, Marlboro, Kool, and Salem Light cigarettes; and two boxes of
chocolates.
There had been a mix-up, and the airport caterers had delivered the order
double.
Takeoff was delayed. An ice storm had dropped out of nowhere, and the
Boeing 707 was last in the queue for de-icing--commercial flights had
priority. Bill began to worry. The airport was going to close at midnight,
and they might have to get off the plane and return to the hotel. Bill did
not want to spend the night in Germany. He wanted American soil beneath his
feet.
John Howell, Joe Poch6, and Bob Young told the story of their flight from
Tehran. Both Paul and Bill were chilled to hear how implacably determined
Dadgar had been to prevent their
leaving the country.
I At last the plane was de-ice"ut then its Number I engine would not start.
Pilot John Carlen traced the problem to the start valve. Engineer Ken Lenz
got off the plane and held the valve open manually while Carlen started the
engine.
Perot brought Rashid to the flight deck. Rashid had never flown until
yesterday, and he wanted to sit with the crew. Perot said to Carlen: "Let's
have a really spectacular takeoff."
"You got it," said Carlen. He taxied to the runway, then took off in a very
steep climb.
In the passenger cabin Gayden was laughing: he had just heard that, after
six weeks in jail with all-male company, Paul had been forced to sit
through an X-rated movie; and he thought it was funny as hell.
Perot popped a champagne cork and proposed a toast. "Here's to the men who
said what they were going to do, then went out and did it."
Ralph Boulware sipped his champagne and felt a warm glow. That's right, he
thought. We said what we were going to do, then we went out and did it.
Right.
He had another reason to be happy. Next Monday was Kecia's birthday: she
would be seven. Every time he had called Mary she
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 395
had said: "Get home in time for Kecia's birthday. " It looked like he was
going to make it.
Bill began to relax at last. Now there's nothing but a plane ride between
me and America and Emily and the kids, he thought. Now I'm safe.
He had imagined himself safe before: when he reached the Hyatt in Tehran,
when he crossed the border into Turkey, when he took off from Van, and when
he landed in Frankfurt. He had been wrong each time.
And he was wrong now.
3
Paul had always been crazy about airplanes, and now he took the opportunity
to sit on the flight deck of the Boeing 707.
As the plane flew across the north of England, he realized that pilot John
Carlen, engineer Ken Lenz, and first officer Joe Fosnot were having
trouble. On autopilot the plane was drifting, first to the left and then to
the right. The compass had failed, rendering the inertial navigation system
erratic.
"What does all that mean?" Paul asked.
"It means we'll have to hand-fly this thing all the way across the
Atlantic," said Carlen. "We can do it-4t's kind of exhausting, that's all."
A few minutes later the plane became very cold, then very hot. Its
pressurization system was failing.
Carlen took the plane down low.
"We can't cross the Atlantic at this height," he told Paul.
"Why not?"
"We don't have enough fuel---an aircraft uses much more fuel at low
altitudes."
"Why can't we fly high?"
"Can't breathe up there."
"ne plane has oxygen masks."
"But not enough oxygen to cross the Atlantic. No plane carries that much
oxygen."
Carlen and his crew fiddled with the controls for a while, then Carlen
sighed and said: "Would you get Ross up here, Paul?"
Paul fetched Perot.
396 Ken Follett
Carlen said: "Mr. Perot, I think we ought to take this thing and land it as
soon as we can. " He explained again why they could not cross the Atlantic
with a faulty pressure system.
Paul said: "John, I'll be forever grateful to you if we don't have to land
in Germany."
"Don't worry," said Carlen. "We'll head for London, Heathrow. "
Perot went back to tell the others. Carlen called London Air Traffic
Control on the radio. It was one in the morning, and he was told Heathrow
was closed. This is an emergency, he replied. They gave him permission to
land.
Paul could hardly believe it. An emergency landing, after all he had been
through!
Ken Lenz began to dump fuel to reduce the plane below its maximum landing
weight.
London told Carlen there was fog over southern England, but at the moment
visibility was up to half a mile at Heathrow.
When Ken Lenz shut off the fuel-dump valves, a red light that should have
gone out stayed on. "A dump chute hasn't retracted," said Lenz.
"I can't believe this," said Paul. He lit a cigarette.
Carlen said: "Paul, can I have a cigarette?"
Paul stared at him. "You told me you quit smoking ten years ago. "
"Just give me a cigarette, would you?"
Paul gave him a cigarette and said: "Now I'm really scared."
Paul went back into the passenger cabin. The stewardesses had everyone busy
stowing trays, bottles, and baggage, securing all loose objects, in
preparation for landing.
Paul went into the bedroom. Simons was lying on the bed. He had shaved in
cold water and there were bits of stickum tape all over his face. He was
fast asleep.
Paul left him. He said to Jay Coburn: "Does Simons know what's going on?"
"Sure does," Coburn replied. "He said he doesn't know how to fly a plane
and there's nothing he can do, so he was going to take a nap."
Paul shook his head in amazement. How cool could you get?
He returned to the flight deck. Carlen was as laid-back as ever, his voice
calm, his hands steady; but that cigarette worried Paul.
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 397
A couple of minutes later the red fight went out. The dump chute had
retracted.
They approached Heathrow in dense cloud and began to lose height. Paul
watched the altimeter. As it dropped through six
,hundred feet, then five hundred, there was still nothing outside but
swirling gray fog.
At three hundred feet it was the same. Then, suddenly, they dropped out of
the cloud and there was the runway, straight ahead, fit up like a Christmas
tree. Paul breathed a sigh of relief.
They touched down, and the fire engines and ambulances came screaming
across the tarmac toward the plane; but it was a perfect safe landing.
Rashid had been hearing about Ross Perot for years. Perot was the
multimillionaire, the founder of EDS, the business wizard, the man who sat
in Dallas and moved men such as Coburn and Sculley around the world like
pieces on a chessboard. It had been quite an experience for Rashid to meet
W. Perot and find he was just an ordinary-looking human being, rather short
and surprisingly friendly. Rashid had walked into the hotel room in
Istanbul, and this little guy with the big smile and the bent nose just
stuck out his hand and said: "Hi, I'm Ross Perot," and Rashid had shaken
hands and said: "Hi, I'm Rashid Kazemi," just as natural as could be.
Since that moment he had felt more than ever one of the EDS team. But at
Heathrow Airport he was sharply reminded that he was not.
As soon as the plane taxied to a halt, a vanload of airport police, customs
men, and immigration officials boarded and started asking questions. They
did not like what they saw: a bunch of dirty, scruffy, smelly, unshaven
men, carrying a fortune in various currencies, aboard an incredibly
luxurious airplane with a Grand Cayman Islands tail number. This, they said
in their British way, was highly irregular, to say the least.
However, after an hour or so of questioning, they coul
d find no evidence
that the EDS men were drug smugglers, terrorists, or members of the PLO.
And as holders of U.S. passports, the Americans needed no visas or other
documentation to enter Britain. They were all admitted--except for Rashid.
Perot confronted the immigration officer. "There's no reason why you should
know who I am, but my name is Ross Perot, and if you would just check me
out, maybe with U.S. Customs,
398 Ken Follett
I believe you will conclude that you can trust me. I have too much to lose
by trying to smuggle an illegal immigrant into Britain. Now, I will assume
personal responsibility for this young man. We will be out of England in
twenty-four hours. In the morning we will check with your counterparts at
Gatwick Airport, and we will then get on the Braniff flight to Dallas."
"I'm afraid we can't do that, sir," said the official. I 'This gentleman
will have to stay with us until we put him on the plane. 11
"If he stays, I stay," said Perot.
Rashid was flabbergasted. Ross Perot would spend the night at the airport,
or perhaps in a prison cell, rather than leave Rashid behind! It was
incredible. If Pat Sculley had made such an offer, or Jay Coburn, Rashid
would have been grateful but not surprised. But this was Ross Perot!
The immigration officer sighed. "Do you know anyone in Great Britain who
might vouch for you, sit?"
Perot racked his brains. Who do I know in Britain? he thought. "I don't
think-no, wait a minute." Of course! One of Britain's great heroes had
stayed with the Perots in Dallas a couple of times. Perot and Margot had
been guests at his home in England, a place called Broadlands. "I know Earl
Mountbatten of Burma,
he said.
"I'll just have a word with my supervisor," said the officer, and he got
off the plane.
He was away a long time.
Perot said to Sculley: "As soon as we get out of here, your job is to get
us all first-class seats on that Braniff flight to Dallas in the morning."
"Yes, sir," said Sculley-
The immigration officer came back. "I can give you twenty-four hours," he
said to Rashid.
Rashid looked at Perot. Oh, boy, he thought; what a guy to work for!
They checked in to the Post House Hotel near the airport, and Perot called
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