More numbers were called, but nobody got up. Howell guessed everyone had decided they would rather lose their baggage than risk getting off this plane.
'Ladies and gentlemen, please identify yourselves when these numbers are called. You will not have to get off the plane, just hand over your keys so the bags can be opened for searching.'
Howell was not reassured. He watched Cathy, still trying to catch her eye. More numbers were called, but she did not get up.
'Ladies and gentlemen, some good news. We have checked with Pan Am's European headquarters, and have been given permission to take off with an overload of passengers.'
There was a ragged cheer.
Howell looked over at Joe Poche. Poche had his passport on his chest and he was sitting back with his eyes closed, apparently asleep. Joe must have ice in his veins, Howell thought.
There was sure to be a lot of pressure on Dadgar as the sun went down. It had to be obvious that Paul and Bill were not on the plane. If a thousand people were deplaned and escorted back to the Embassy, the revolutionary authorities would have to go through the whole rigmarole again tomorrow--and somebody up there was bound to say 'No way!' to that.
Howell knew that he and the rest of the Clean Team were certainly guilty of crimes now. They had connived at the escape of Paul and Bill, and whether the Iranians called that conspiracy, or being an accessory after the fact, or some other name, it had to be against the law. He went over in his mind the story they had all agreed to tell if they were arrested. They had left the Hyatt on Monday morning, they would say, and had gone to Keane Taylor's house. (Howell had wanted to tell the truth, and say the Dvoranchik place, but the others had pointed out that this might bring down trouble on the head of Dvoranchik's landlady, whereas Taylor's landlord did not live on the premises.) They had spent Monday and Tuesday at Taylor's, then had gone to Lou Goelz's house on Tuesday afternoon. From then on, they would tell the truth.
The story would not protect the Clean Team: Howell knew all too well that Dadgar did not care whether his hostages were guilty or innocent.
At six o'clock the captain said: 'Ladies and gentlemen, we have permission to take off.'
The doors were slammed and the plane was moving within seconds. The passengers without seats were told by stewardesses to sit on the floor. As they taxied, Howell thought: surely we wouldn't stop now, even if we were ordered to ...
The 747 gathered speed along the runway and took off.
They were still in Iranian airspace. The Iranians could send up fighter jets ...
A little later the captain said: 'Ladies and gentlemen, we have now departed Iranian airspace.'
The passengers gave a weary cheer.
We made it, Howell thought.
He picked up his paperback thriller.
Joe Poche left his seat and went to find the chief steward.
'Is there any way the pilot could get a message through to the States?' he asked.
'I don't know,' the steward said. 'Write your message, and I'll ask him.'
Poche returned to his seat and got out paper and a pen. He wrote:
He thought for a minute about what his message should be. He recalled EDS's recruiting motto: 'Eagles don't flock--you have to find them one at a time.' He wrote:
2_____
Ross Perot wanted to meet up with the Clean Team before returning to the States: he was keen to get everyone together, so that he could see and touch them all and be absolutely sure they were safe and well. However, on Friday in Istanbul he could not confirm the destination of the evacuation flight that would bring the Clean Team out of Tehran. John Carlen, the laid-back pilot of the leased Boeing 707, had the answer to that problem. 'Those evacuation planes must fly up over Istanbul,' he said. 'We'll just sit on the runway until they pass overhead, then call them on the radio and ask them.' In the end that was not necessary: Stauffer called on Saturday morning and told Perot the Clean Team would be on the Frankfurt plane.
Perot and the others checked out of the Sheraton at midday and went to the airport to join Boulware and Simons on the plane. They took off late in the afternoon.
When they were in the air Perot called Dallas: with the plane's single-sideband radio it was as easy as calling from New York. He reached Merv Stauffer.
'What's happening with the Clean Team?' Perot asked.
'I got a message,' said Stauffer. 'It came from the European headquarters of Pan Am. It just says: 'The eagles have flown their nest.' '
Perot smiled. All safe.
Perot left the flight deck and returned to the passenger cabin. His heroes looked washed out. At Istanbul Airport he had sent Taylor into the duty-free shop to buy cigarettes, snacks, and liquor, and Taylor had spent over a thousand dollars. They all had a drink to celebrate the escape of the Clean Team, but nobody was in the mood, and ten minutes later they were all sitting around on the plush upholstery with their glasses still full. Someone started a poker game, but it petered out.
The crew of the 707 included two pretty stewardesses. Perot got them to put their arms around Taylor, then took a photograph. He threatened to show the photo to Taylor's wife, Mary, if Taylor ever gave him a hard time.
Most of them were too tired to sleep, but Gayden went back to the luxurious bedroom and lay down on the king-size bed. Perot was a little miffed: he thought Simons, who was older and looked completely drained, should have had the bed.
But Simons was talking to one of the stewardesses, Anita Melton. She was a vivacious blond Swedish girl in her twenties, with a zany sense of humor, a wild imagination, and a penchant for the outlandish. She was fun. Simons recognized a kindred soul, someone who did not care too much about what other people thought, an individual. He liked her. He realized that it was the first time since the death of Lucille that he had felt attracted to a woman.
He really had come back to life.
Ron Davis began to feel sleepy. The king-size bed was big enough for two, he thought; so he went into the bedroom and lay down beside Gayden.
Gayden opened his eyes. 'Davis?' he said incredulously. 'What the hell are you doing in bed with me?'
'Don't sweat it,' said Davis. 'Now you can tell all your friends you slept with a nigger.' He closed his eyes.
As the plane approached Frankfurt, Simons recalled that he was still responsible for Paul and Bill, and his mind went back to work, extrapolating possibilities for enemy action. He asked Perot: 'Does Germany have an extradition treaty with Iran?'
'I don't know,' said Perot.
He got The Simons Look.
'I'll find out,' he added.
He called Dallas and asked for Tom Luce, the lawyer. 'Tom, does Germany have an extradition treaty with Iran?'
Luce said: 'I'm ninety-nine percent sure they do not.'
Perot told Simons.
Simons said: 'I've seen men killed because they were ninety-nine percent sure they were safe.'
Perot said to Luce: 'Let's get a hundred percent sure. I'll call again in a few minutes.'
They landed at Frankfurt and checked into a hotel within the airport complex. The German desk clerk seemed curious, and fully noted all their passport numbers. This increased Simons's unease.
They gathered in Perot's room, and Perot called Dallas again. This time he spoke to T. J. Marquez.
T. J. said: 'I called an international lawyer in Washington, and he thinks there is an extradition treaty
