They could hear some kind of argument beginning back on the Iranian side.
Coburn said: 'Y'all don't turn round, just go.'
Back on the Iranian side, Taylor was holding out a fistful of money to two guards who were glancing first at the four men walking across the border and then at the two Range Rovers, worth at least twenty thousand dollars each...
Rashid was saying: 'We don't know when we'll be able to come back for these cars--it could be a long time--'
One of the guards said: 'You were all to stay here until the morning--'
'The cars are really very valuable, and they must be looked after--'
The guards looked from the cars to the people walking across to Turkey, and back to the cars again, and they hesitated too long.
Paul and Bill reached the Turkish side and walked into the guard hut.
Bill looked at his wristwatch. It was eleven forty-five P.M. on Thursday, February 15, the day after Valentine's Day. On February 15, 1960, he had slipped an engagement ring on Emily's finger. The same day six years later Jackie had been born--today was her thirteenth birthday. Bill thought: Here's your present, Jackie--you still have a father.
Coburn followed them into the hut.
Paul put his arm around Coburn and said: 'Jay, you just hit a home run.'
Back on the Iranian side, the guards saw that half the Americans were already in Turkey, and they decided to quit while they were ahead and take the money and the cars.
Rashid, Gayden, and Taylor walked up to the chain.
At the chain Gayden stopped. 'Go ahead,' he said. 'I want to be the last guy out of here.'
And he was.
2_____
At the hotel in Yuksekova, they sat around a smoky pot-bellied stove: Ralph Boulware; Ilsman, the fat secret agent; Charlie Brown, the interpreter; and the two sons of Mr. Fish's cousin. They were waiting for a call from the border station. Dinner was served: some kind of meat, maybe lamb, wrapped in newspapers.
Ilsman said he had seen someone taking photographs of Rashid and Boulware at the border. With Charlie Brown translating, Ilsman said: 'If you ever have a problem about those photographs, I can solve it.'
Boulware wondered what he meant.
Charlie said: 'He believes you are an honest man, and what you are doing is noble.'
It was kind of a sinister offer, Boulware felt; like a Mafioso telling you that you are his friend.
By midnight there was still no word either from the Dirty Team or from Pat Sculley and Mr. Fish, who were supposed to be on their way here with a bus. Boulware decided to go to bed. He always drank water at bedtime. There was a pitcher of water on a table. Hell, he thought, I haven't died yet. He took a drink, and found himself swallowing something solid. Oh, God, he thought; what was that? He made himself forget about it.
He was just getting into bed when a boy called him to the phone.
It was Rashid.
'Hey, Ralph?'
'Yes.'
'We're at the border!'
'I'll be right there.'
He rounded up the others and paid the hotel bill. With the sons of Mr. Fish's cousin driving, they headed down the road where--as Ilsman kept saying--thirty-nine people had been killed by bandits the previous month. On the way they had yet another flat tire. The sons had to change the wheel in the dark, because the batteries in their flashlight had gone dead. Boulware did not know whether to be frightened, standing there in the road, waiting. Ilsman could still be a liar, a confidence trickster. On the other hand, his credentials had protected them all. If the Turkish secret service was like Turkish hotels, hell, Ilsman could be their answer to James Bond.
The wheel was changed and the cars moved off again.
They drove through the night. It's going to be all right, Boulware thought. Paul and Bill are at the border, Sculley and Mr. Fish are on their way here with a bus, Perot is in Istanbul alone. We're going to make it.
He reached the border. Lights were on in the guard huts. He jumped out of the car and ran inside.
A great cheer went up.
There they all were: Paul and Bill, Coburn, Simons, Taylor, Gayden, and Rashid.
Boulware shook hands warmly with Paul and Bill.
They all started picking up their coats and bags. 'Hey, hey, wait a minute,' Boulware said. 'Mr. Fish is on the way with a bus.' He took from his pocket a bottle of Chivas Regal he had been saving for this moment. 'But we can all have a drink!'
They all had a celebratory drink except Rashid, who did not take alcohol. Simons got Boulware in a corner. 'All right, what's happening?'
'I talked to Ross this afternoon,' Boulware told him. 'Mr. Fish is on his way here, with Sculley, Schwebach, and Davis. They're in a bus. Now, we could all leave right now--the twelve of us could get into the two cars, just about--but I think we should wait for the bus. For one thing, we'll all be together, so nobody can get lost anymore. For another, the road out of here is supposed to be Blood Alley, you know--bandits and like that. I don't know whether that's been exaggerated, but they keep saying it, and I'm beginning to believe it. If it's a dangerous road, we'll be safer all together. And, number three, if we go to Yuksekova and wait for Mr. Fish there, we can't do anything but check into the worst hotel in the world, and attract questions and hassles from a new set of officials.'
'Okay,' Simons said reluctantly. 'We'll wait awhile.'
He looked
Boulware himself felt terrific, even though he had had little sleep for forty-eight hours. He thought of his endless discussions with Mr. Fish about how to get to the border; of the screwup in Adana when the bus failed to come; of the taxi ride through a blizzard in the mountains... And here he was, after all.
The little guardhouse was bitterly cold, and the wood-burning stove did nothing but fill the room with smoke. Everyone was tired, and the scotch made them drowsy. One by one they began to fall asleep on the wooden benches and the floor.
Simons did not sleep. Rashid watched him, pacing up and down like a caged tiger, chain-smoking his plastic- tipped cigars. As dawn broke, he started looking out of the window, across no-man's-land to Iran.
'There are a hundred people with rifles across there,' he said to Rashid and Boulware. 'What do you think they would do if they should happen to find out exactly who it was who slipped across the border last night?'
Boulware, too, was beginning to wonder whether he had been right to propose waiting for Mr. Fish.
Rashid looked out the window. Seeing the Range Rovers on the other side, he remembered something. 'The fuel can,' he said. 'I left the can with the money. We might need the money.'
Simons just looked at him.
On impulse Rashid walked out of the guardhouse and started across the border.
It seemed a long way.
He thought about the psychology of the guards on the Iranian side. They have written us off, he decided. If they have any doubts about whether they did right last night, then they must have spent the last few hours making up excuses, justifying their action. By now they have convinced themselves that they did the right thing. It will take them a while to change their minds.
He reached the other side and stepped over the chain.
He went to the first Range Rover and opened the tailgate.
Two guards came running out of their hut.
Rashid lifted the can out of the car and closed the tailgate. 'We forgot the oil,' he said as he started walking back toward the chain.
