it.'
'Young flies. Taylor drives. Now, one of us has to go on the evacuation flight with the Clean Team. Joe, that's you. You've kept a lower profile than Jay. He's been on the streets, at meetings at the Hyatt--whereas nobody knows you're here.'
'Okay,' said Poche.
'So the Clean Team is the Gallaghers, Bob Young, and John Howell, led by Joe. The Dirty Team is me, Jay, Keane Taylor, Bill Gayden, Paul, Bill, and two Iranian drivers. Let's go tell 'em.'
They went into the living room and everyone sat down. As Simons talked, Coburn admired how he announced his decision in such a way that they all thought they were being asked for their opinions rather than being told what to do.
There was some discussion of who should be in which team--both John Howell and Bob Young would have preferred to be in the Dirty Team, feeling themselves vulnerable to arrest by Dadgar--but in the end they all reached the decision Simons had already made.
The Clean Team might as well move into the Embassy compound as soon as possible, Simons said. Gayden and Joe Poche went off to find Lou Goelz, the Consul General, and talk to him about it.
The Dirty Team would leave tomorrow morning.
Coburn had to organize the Iranian drivers. These were to have been Majid and his cousin, the professor, but the professor was in Rezaiyeh and could not get to Tehran, so Coburn had to find a replacement.
He had already decided on Seyyed. Seyyed was a young Iranian systems engineer like Rashid and the Cycle Man, but from a much wealthier family: relatives of his had been high in politics and the army under the Shah. Seyyed had been educated in England and spoke with a British accent. His great asset, from Coburn's point of view, was that he came from the northwest, so he knew the territory and he spoke Turkish.
Coburn called Seyyed and they met at Seyyed's house. Coburn told him lies. 'I need to gather intelligence on the roads between here and Khoy,' Coburn said. 'I'll need someone to drive me. Will you do it?'
'Sure,' said Seyyed.
'Meet me at ten forty-five tonight at Argentine Square.'
Seyyed agreed.
Simons had instructed Coburn to go through all this. Coburn trusted Seyyed, but of course Simons did not; so Seyyed would not know where the team was staying until he got there, and he would not know about Paul and Bill until he saw them; and from that moment on he would not be out of Simons's sight.
When Coburn returned to the Dvoranchik place, Gayden and Poche were back from seeing Lou Goelz. They had told Goelz that a few EDS men were staying in Tehran to look for Paul and Bill, but the others wanted to leave on the first evacuation flight, and stay at the Embassy in the meantime. Goelz had said that the Embassy was full, but they could stay at his house.
They all thought that was pretty damn good of Goelz. Most of them had got mad at him once or twice over the last two months, and had made it pretty clear that they blamed him and his colleagues for the arrest of Paul and Bill: it was big of him to open his house to them after all that. As everything came unglued in Iran, Goelz was becoming less of a bureaucrat and showing that his heart was in the right place.
The Clean Team and the Dirty Team shook hands and wished each other luck, not knowing who needed it most; then the Clean Team left for Goelz's house.
It was now evening. Coburn and Keane Taylor went to Majid's house to pick him up: he would spend the night at the Dvoranchik place like Seyyed. Coburn and Taylor also had to get a fifty-five-gallon drum of fuel that Majid had been keeping for them.
When they got to the house Majid was out.
They waited, fretting. At last Majid came in. He greeted them, welcomed them to his home, called for tea, the whole nine yards. Eventually Coburn said: 'We're leaving tomorrow morning. We want you to come with us now.'
Majid asked Coburn to step into another room with him; then he said: 'I can't go with you.'
'Why not?'
'I have to kill Hoveyda.'
'What?' said Coburn incredulously. 'Who?'
'Amir Abbas Hoveyda, who used to be Prime Minister.'
'Why do you have to
'It's a long story. The Shah had a land-reform program, and Hoveyda tried to take away my family's tribal lands, and we rebelled, and Hoveyda put me in jail ... I have been waiting all these years for my revenge.'
'You have to kill him right away?' said Coburn, astonished.
'I have the weapons and the opportunity. In two days' time all may be different.'
Coburn was nonplussed. He did not know what to say. It was clear Majid could not be talked around.
Coburn and Taylor manhandled the fuel drum into the back of the Range Rover, then took their leave. Majid wished them luck.
Back at the Dvoranchik place, Coburn started trying to reach the Cycle Man, hoping he would replace Majid as driver. The Cycle Man was as elusive as Coburn himself. He could normally be reached at a certain phone number-- some kind of revolutionary headquarters, Coburn suspected--just once a day. The regular time for him to drop by this place was now past--it was late in the evening--but Coburn tried anyway. The Cycle Man was not there. He tried a few more phone numbers without success.
At least they had Seyyed.
At ten-thirty Coburn went out to meet Seyyed. He walked through the darkened streets to Argentine Square, a mile from the Dvoranchik place, then picked his way across a construction site and into an empty building to wait.
At eleven o'clock Seyyed had not arrived.
Simons had told Coburn to wait fifteen minutes, no longer; but Coburn decided to give Seyyed a little more time.
He waited until eleven-thirty.
Seyyed was not coming.
Coburn wondered what had happened: given Seyyed's family connections, it was quite possible he had fallen victim to the revolutionaries.
For the Dirty Team this was a disaster. Now they had no Iranians to go with them. How the hell will we get through all those roadblocks? wondered Coburn. What a shitty break: the professor drops out, Majid drops out, the Cycle Man can't be found, then Seyyed drops out. Shit.
He left the construction site and walked away. Suddenly he heard a car. He looked back, and saw a jeep full of armed revolutionaries swinging around the square. He ducked behind a convenient bush. They went by.
He went on, hurrying now, wondering whether the curfew was in force tonight. He was almost home when the jeep came roaring back toward him.
They saw me last time, he thought, and they've come back to pick me up.
It was very dark. They might not have spotted him yet. He turned and ran back. There was no cover on this street. The noise of the jeep became louder. At last Coburn saw some shrubbery and flung himself into it. He lay there listening to his heartbeat as the jeep came closer. Were they looking for him? Had they picked up Seyyed and tortured him, and made him confess that he had an appointment with a capitalist American pig at Argentine Square at ten forty-five ... ?
The jeep went by without stopping.
Coburn picked himself up.
He ran all the way to the Dvoranchik place.
He told Simons they now had no Iranian drivers.
Simons cursed. 'Is there another Iranian we can call?'
'Only one. Rashid.'
Simons did not want to use Rashid, Coburn knew, because Rashid had led the jailbreak, and if someone who remembered him from that should see him driving a carload of Americans, there might be trouble. But Coburn could not think of anyone else.
'Okay,' said Simons. 'Call him.'
