roads, and they could still do forty miles per hour. They were climbing all the time: the temperature dropped steadily, and the countryside was covered with snow, but the road was clear. Coburn wondered whether they might even make the border tonight, instead of tomorrow as planned.
Gayden, in the backseat, leaned forward and said: 'Nobody's going to believe it was this easy. We better make up some war stories to tell when we get home.'
He spoke too soon.
As daylight faded they approached Mahabad. Its outskirts were marked by a few scattered huts, made of wood and mud brick, along the sides of the winding road. The two Range Rovers swept around a bend and pulled up sharply: the road was blocked by a parked truck and a large but apparently disciplined crowd. The men were wearing the traditional baggy trousers, black vest, red-and-white checkered headdress and bandolier of Kurdish tribesmen.
Rashid jumped out of the lead car and went into his act.
Coburn studied the guns of the guards, and saw both Russian and American automatic weapons.
'Everyone out of the cars,' said Rashid.
By now it was routine. One by one they were searched. This time the search was a little more thorough, and they found Keane Taylor's little switchblade knife, but they let him keep it. They did not find Coburn's knife, or the money.
Coburn waited for Rashid to say: 'We can go.' It was taking longer than usual. Rashid argued with the Kurds for a few minutes, then said: 'We have to go and see the head man of the town.'
They got back into the cars. A Kurd with a rifle joined them in each car and directed them into the little town.
They were ordered to stop outside a small whitewashed building. One of the guards went in, came out again a minute later, and got back into the car without explanation.
They stopped again outside what was clearly a hospital. Here they picked up a passenger, a young Iranian in a suit.
Coburn wondered what the hell was going on.
Finally they drove down an alley and parked outside what looked like a small private house.
They went inside. Rashid told them to take off their shoes.
Gayden had several thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills in his shoes. As he took them off he frantically stuffed the money up into the toes of the shoes.
They were ushered into a large room furnished with nothing but a beautiful Persian carpet. Simons quietly told everyone where to sit. Leaving a space in the circle for the Iranians, he put Rashid on the right of the space. Next to Rashid was Taylor, then Coburn, then Simons himself opposite the space. On Simons's right Paul and Bill sat, back a little from the line of the circle, where they would be least conspicuous. Gayden, completing the circle, sat on Bill's right.
As Taylor sat down he saw that he had a big hole in the toe of his sock, and hundred-dollar bills were poking through the hole. He cursed under his breath and hastily pushed the money back toward his heel.
The young man in the suit followed them in. He seemed educated and spoke good English. 'You are about to meet a man who has just escaped after twenty-five years in jail,' he said.
Bill almost said: Well, how about that, I've just escaped from jail myself!--but he stopped himself just in time.
'You are to be put on trial, and this man will be your judge,' the young Iranian went on.
The words
3______
The Clean Team spent Wednesday at Lou Goelz's house in Tehran.
Early in the morning a call came through from Tom Walter in Dallas. The line was poor and the conversation confused, but Joe Poche was able to tell Walter that he and the Clean Team were safe, would move into the Embassy as soon as possible, and would leave the country whenever the Embassy got the evacuation flights finally organized. Poche also reported that Cathy Gallagher's condition had not improved, and she had been taken to the hospital the previous evening.
John Howell called Abolhasan, who had another message from Dadgar. Dadgar was willing to negotiate a lower bail. If EDS located Paul and Bill, the company should turn them in and post the lower bail. The Americans should realize that it would be hopeless for Paul and Bill to try to leave Iran by regular means and very dangerous for them to leave otherwise.
Howell took that to mean that Paul and Bill would not have been allowed to get out on an Embassy evacuation flight. He wondered again whether the Clean Team might be in more danger than the Dirty Team. Bob Young felt the same. While they were discussing it, they heard shooting. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the U.S. Embassy.
The National Voice of Iran, a radio station broadcasting from Baku across the border in the Soviet Union, had for several days been issuing 'news' bulletins about clandestine American plans for a counterrevolution. On Wednesday the National Voice announced that the files of SAVAK, the Shah's hated secret police force, had been transferred to the U.S. Embassy. The story was almost certainly invented, but it was highly plausible: the CIA had created SAVAK and was in close contact with it, and everyone knew that U.S. embassies--like all embassies--were full of spies thinly disguised as diplomatic attaches. Anyway, some of the revolutionaries in Tehran believed the story, and--without consulting any of the Ayatollah's aides--decided to take action.
During the morning they entered the high buildings surrounding the Embassy compound and took up position with automatic weapons. They opened fire at ten-thirty.
Ambassador William Sullivan was in his outer office, taking a call at his secretary's desk. He was speaking to the Ayatollah's Deputy Foreign Minister. President Carter had decided to recognize the new, revolutionary government in Iran, and Sullivan was making arrangements to deliver an official note.
When he put the phone down, he turned around to see his press attache, Barry Rosen, standing there with two American journalists. Sullivan was furious, for the White House had given specific instructions that the decision to recognize the new government was to be announced in Washington, not Tehran. Sullivan took Rosen into the inner office and chewed him out.
Rosen told him that the two journalists were there to make arrangements for the body of Joe Alex Morris, the
Rosen went out. Sullivan's phone rang. He picked it up. There was a sudden tremendous crash of gunfire, and a hail of bullets shattered his windows.
Sullivan hit the floor.
He slithered across the room and into the next office, where he came nose-to-nose with his deputy, Charlie Naas, who had been holding a meeting about the evacuation flights. Sullivan had two phone numbers that he could use, in an emergency, to reach revolutionary leaders. He now told Naas to call one, and the army attache to call the other. Still lying an the floor, the two men pulled telephones off a desk and started dialing.
Sullivan took out his walkie-talkie and called for reports from the marine units in the compound.
The machine-gun attack had been covering fire for a squad of about seventy-five revolutionaries who had come over the front wall of the Embassy compound and were now advancing on the ambassadorial residence. Fortunately most of the staff were with Sullivan in the chancery building.
Sullivan ordered the marines to fall back, not to use their rifles, and to fire their sidearms only in self- defense.
Then he crawled out of the executive suite and into the corridor.
During the next hour, as the attackers took the residence and the cafeteria building, Sullivan got all the civilians in the chancery herded into the communications vault upstairs. When he heard the attackers breaking down
