Now we're in trouble, Paul thought.
The scene was almost funny. The driver was not a bit cowed: he was yelling at the soldiers as loudly and as angrily as they were yelling at him.
Mr. Fish, Ilsman, and some of the mystery passengers got off the bus and started talking, and eventually they satisfied the military. The driver was literally thrown back onto the bus, but even that did not quench his spirit, and as he drove away he was still yelling out of the window and shaking his fist at the soldiers.
They reached Van late in the afternoon.
They went to the town hall, where they were handed over to the local police; and the scruffy bodyguards disappeared like melting snow. The police filled in forms, then escorted them to the airstrip.
As they were boarding the plane, Ilsman was stopped by a policeman: he had a .45 pistol strapped under his arm, and it seemed that even in Turkey passengers were not allowed to take firearms on board aircraft. However, Ilsman flashed his credentials yet again, and the problem went away.
Rashid was also stopped. He was carrying the fuel can with the money in it, and of course inflammable liquids were not allowed on an aircraft. He told the police the can contained suntan oil for the Americans' wives, and they believed him.
They all boarded the plane. Simons and Coburn, coming down from the effects of the stay-awake pills, both stretched out and were asleep within seconds.
As the plane taxied and took off, Paul felt as elated as if it were his first plane trip. He recalled how, in jail in Tehran, he had longed to do that most ordinary thing, get on a plane and fly away. Soaring up into the clouds now gave him a feeling he had not experienced for a long time: the feeling of freedom.
3_______
According to the peculiar rules of Turkish air travel, the charter plane could not go where a scheduled flight was available; so they could not fly directly to Istanbul where Perot was waiting, but had to change planes in Ankara.
While they were waiting for their connection, they solved a couple of problems.
Simons, Sculley, Paul, and Bill got into a taxi and asked for the American Embassy.
It was a long drive through the city. The air was brownish and had a strong smell. 'The air's bad here,' said Bill.
'High-sulfur coal,' said Simons, who had lived in Turkey in the fifties. 'They've never heard of pollution controls.'
The cab pulled up at the U.S. Embassy. Bill looked out the window and his heart leaped: there stood a young, handsome marine guard in an immaculate uniform.
This was the U.S.A.
They paid off the cab.
As they went in, Simons said to the marine: 'Is there a motor pool here, soldier?'
'Yes, sir,' said the marine, and gave him directions.
Paul and Bill went into the passport office. In their pockets they had passport-sized photographs of themselves that Boulware had brought from the States. They went up to the desk, and Paul said: 'We've lost our passports. We left Tehran in kind of a hurry.'
'Oh, yes,' said the clerk, as if he had been expecting them.
They had to fill in forms. One of the officials took them into a private office and told them he wanted some advice. The U.S. Consulate in Tabriz, Iran, was under attack by revolutionaries, and the staff there might have to escape as Paul and Bill had. They told him the route they had taken and what problems they had encountered.
A few minutes later they walked out of there, each holding a sixty-day U.S. passport. Paul looked at his and said: 'Did you ever see anything so beautiful in your whole damn life?'
Simons emptied the oil from the can and shook out the money in the weighted plastic bags. There was a hell of a mess: some of the bags had broken and there was oil all over the banknotes. Sculley started cleaning off the oil and piling the money up in ten-thousand-dollar stacks: there was sixty-five thousand dollars plus about the same again in Iranian rials.
While he was doing this, a marine walked in. Seeing two disheveled, unshaven men kneeling on the floor counting out a small fortune in hundred-dollar bills, he did a double take.
Sculley said to Simons: 'Do you think I ought to tell him,
Simons growled: 'Your buddy at the gate knows about this, soldier.'
The marine saluted and went out.
It was eleven P.M. when they were called to board their flight to Istanbul.
They went through the final security check one by one. Sculley was just ahead of Simons. Looking back, he saw that the guard had asked to see inside the envelope Simons was carrying.
The envelope contained all the money from the fuel can.
Sculley said: 'Oh, shit.'
The soldier looked in the envelope and saw the sixty-five thousand dollars and four million rials; and all hell broke loose.
Several soldiers drew their guns, one of them called out, and officers came running.
Sculley saw Taylor, who had fifty thousand dollars in a little black bag, pushing his way through the crowd around Simons, saying: 'Excuse me, excuse me please, excuse me...'
Ahead of Sculley, Paul had already been cleared through the checkpoint. Sculley thrust his thirty thousand dollars into Paul's hands, then turned and went back through the checkpoint.
The soldiers were taking Simons away to be interrogated. Sculley followed with Mr. Fish, Ilsman, Boulware, and Jim Schwebach. Simons was led into a little room. One of the officers turned, saw five people following, and said in English: 'Who are you?'
'We're all together,' Sculley said.
They sat down and Mr. Fish talked to the officers. After a while he said: 'They want to see the papers that prove you brought this money into the country.'
'What papers?'
'You have to declare all the foreign currency you bring in.'
'Hell, nobody asked us!'
Boulware said: 'Mr. Fish, explain to these clowns that we entered Turkey at a tiny little border station where the guards probably don't know enough to read forms and they didn't ask us to fill in any forms but we're happy to do it now.'
Mr. Fish argued some more with the officers. Eventually Simons was allowed to leave, with the money; but the soldiers took down his name, passport number, and description, and the moment they landed in Istanbul, Simons was arrested.
At three A.M. on Saturday, February 17, 1979, Paul and Bill walked into Ross Perot's suite at the Istanbul Sheraton.
It was the greatest moment in Perot's life.
Emotion welled up inside him as he embraced them both. Here they were, alive and well, after all this time, all those weeks of waiting, the impossible decisions and the awful risks. He looked at their beaming faces. The nightmare was over.
The rest of the team crowded in after them. Ron Davis was clowning, as usual. He had borrowed Perot's cold-weather clothes, and Perot had pretended to be anxious to get them back: now Davis stripped off his hat, coat, and gloves, and threw them on the floor dramatically, saying: 'Here you are, Perot, here's your damned stuff!'
Then Sculley walked in and said: 'Simons got arrested at the airport.'
Perot's jubilation evaporated. 'Why?' he exclaimed in dismay.
'He was carrying a lot of money in a paper envelope and they just happened to search him.'
Perot said angrily: 'Darn it, Pat,
