working phone and a supply of heating oil. The walled courtyard was big enough to park six cars, and there was a back entrance that could be used as an escape route if a squad of police came to the front door. And the landlord did not live on the premises.
Using the street map of Tehran on the wall of Coburn's office--which had, since the evacuation, been marked with the location of every EDS home in the city--they picked three more empty houses as alternative hideouts.
During the day, as Taylor got the cars gassed up, Coburn drove them one by one from Bucharest to the houses, parking three cars at each of the four locations.
Looking again at his wall map, he tried to recall which of the wives had worked for the American military, for the families with commissary privileges always had the best food. He listed eight likely prospects. Tomorrow he would visit them and pick up canned and dried food and bottled drinks for the hideouts.
He selected a fifth apartment, but did not visit it. It was to be a safe house, a hideout for a serious emergency: no one would go there until it had to be used.
That evening, alone in Taylor's apartment, he called Dallas and asked for Merv Stauffer.
Stauffer was cheerful, as always. 'Hi, Jay! How are you?'
'Fine.'
'I'm glad you called, because I have a message for you. Got a pencil?'
'Sure do.'
'Okay. Honky Keith Goofball Zero Honky Dummy--'
'Merv,' Coburn interrupted.
'Yeah?'
'What the hell are you talking about, Merv?'
'It's the code, Jay.'
'What is Honky Keith Goofball?'
'H for Honky, K for Keith--'
'Merv, H is Hotel, K is Kilo ...'
'Oh!' said Stauffer. 'Oh, I didn't realize you were supposed to use certain particular words ...'
Coburn started to laugh. 'Listen,' he said. 'Get someone to give you the military alphabet before next time.'
Stauffer was laughing at himself. 'I sure will,' he said. 'I guess we'll have to make do with my own version this time, though.'
'Okay, off you go.'
Coburn took down the coded message, then--still using the code--he gave Stauffer his location and phone number. After hanging up, he decoded the message Stauffer had given him.
It was good news. Simons and Joe Poche were arriving in Tehran the next day.
2____
By January 11--the day Coburn arrived in Tehran and Perot flew to London--Paul and Bill had been in jail exactly two weeks.
In that time they had showered once. When the guards learned that there was hot water, they gave each cell five minutes in the showers. Modesty was forgotten as the men crowded into the cubicles for the luxury of being warm and clean for a while. They washed not only themselves but all their clothes as well.
After a week the jail had run out of bottled gas for cooking, so the food, as well as being starchy and short on vegetables, was now cold. Fortunately they were allowed to supplement the diet with oranges, apples, and nuts brought in by visitors.
Most evenings the electricity was off for an hour or two, and then the prisoners would light candles or flashlights. The jail was full of deputy ministers, government contractors, and Tehran businessmen. Two members of the Empress's court were in Cell Number 5 with Paul and Bill. The latest arrival in their cell was Dr. Siazi, who had worked at the Ministry of Health under Dr. Sheik as manager of a department called Rehabilitation. Siazi was a psychiatrist, and he used his knowledge of the human mind to boost morale among his fellow prisoners. He was forever dreaming up games and diversions to enliven the dreary routine: he instituted a suppertime ritual whereby everyone in the cell had to tell a joke before they could eat. When he learned the amount of Paul's and Bill's bail he assured them they would have a visit from Farrah Fawcett Majors, whose husband was a mere Six Million Dollar Man.
Paul developed a curiously strong relationship with the 'father' of the cell, the longest resident, who by tradition was cell boss. A small man in late middle age, he did what little he could to help the Americans, encouraging them to eat and bribing the guards for little extras for them. He knew only a dozen or so words of English, and Paul spoke little Farsi, but they managed halting conversations. Paul learned that he had been a prominent businessman, owning a construction company and a London hotel. Paul showed him the photographs that Taylor had brought in of Karen and Ann Marie, and the old man learned their names. For all Paul knew, he might have been as guilty as hell of whatever he was accused of; but the concern and warmth he displayed toward the foreigners was enormously heartening.
Paul was also touched by the bravery of his EDS colleagues in Tehran. Lloyd Briggs, who had now gone to New York; Rich Gallagher, who had never left; and Keane Taylor, who had come back; all risked their lives every time they drove through the riots to visit the jail. Each of them also faced the danger that Dadgar might take it into his head to seize them as additional hostages. Paul was particularly grateful when he heard that Bob Young was on his way in, for Bob's wife had a new baby, and this was an especially bad time for him to put himself in danger.
Paul had at first imagined he was going to be released any minute. Now he was telling himself he would get out any day.
One of their cellmates had been let out. He was Lucio Randone, an Italian builder employed by the construction company Condotti d'Acqua. Randone came back to visit, bringing two very large bars of Italian chocolate, and told Paul and Bill that he had talked to the Italian Ambassador in Tehran about them. The Ambassador had promised to see his American counterpart and reveal the secret of getting people out of jail.
But the biggest source of Paul's optimism was Dr. Ahmad Houman, the attorney Briggs had retained to replace the Iranian lawyers who had given bad advice on the bail. Houman had visited them during their first week in jail. They had sat in the jail's reception area--not, for some reason, in the visiting room in the low building across the courtyard--and Paul had feared that this would inhibit a frank lawyer-client discussion; but Houman was not intimidated by the presence of prison guards. 'Dadgar is trying to make a name for himself,' he had announced.
Could that be it? An overenthusiastic prosecutor trying to impress his superiors--or perhaps the revolutionaries--with his anti-American diligence?
'Dadgar's office is very powerful,' Houman went on. 'But in this case he is out on a limb. He did not have cause to arrest you, and the bail is exorbitant.'
Paul began to feel good about Houman. He seemed knowledgeable and confident. 'So what are you going to do?'
'My strategy will be to get the bail reduced.'
'How?'
'First I will talk to Dadgar. I hope I will be able to make him see how outrageous the bail is. But if he remains intransigent, I will go to his superiors in the Ministry of Justice and persuade them to order him to reduce the bail.'
'And how long do you expect that to take?'
'Perhaps a week.'
It was taking more than a week, but Houman had made progress. He had come back to the jail to report that Dadgar's superiors at the Ministry of Justice had agreed to force Dadgar to back down and reduce the bail to a sum EDS could pay easily and swiftly out of funds currently in Iran. Exuding contempt for Dadgar and confidence in himself, he announced triumphantly that everything would be finalized at a second meeting between Paul and Bill and Dadgar on January 11.
Sure enough, that day Dadgar came to the jail in the afternoon. He wanted to see Paul alone first, as he had
