On Wings Of Eagles (1990)

Perot had also lost touch with Ralph Boulware, who was supposed to meet the Dirty Team on the Turkish side of the border. Boulware had last been heard from in Adana, five hundred miles from where he was supposed to be. Perot presumed he was now on his way to the rendezvous, but there was no way of telling how far he had got or whether he would make it on time.

Perot had spent most of the day trying to get a light plane or a helicopter with which to fly into Iran. The Boeing 707 was no use for that, because Perot would need to fly low and search for the Range Rovers with "X" or "A" on their roofs, then land on tiny, disused airfields or even on a road or in a meadow. But so far his efforts had only confirmed what Boulware had told him at six o'clock that morning: it was not going to happen.

In desperation Perot had called a friend in the Drug Enforcement Agency and asked for the phone number of the agency's man in Turkey, thinking that narcotics people would surely know how to get hold of light planes. The DEA man had come to the Sheraton, accompanied by another man who, Perot gathered, was with the CIA; but if they knew where to get a plane they weren't telling.

In Dallas, Merv Stauffer was calling all over Europe looking for a suitable aircraft that could be bought or rented immediately and flown into Turkey: he, too, had failed so far.

Late in the afternoon Perot had said to Pat Sculley: "I want to talk to the highest-ranking American in Istanbul."

Sculley had gone off and raised a little hell at the American Consulate, and now, at ten-thirty P.M., a Consul was sitting in Perot's suite at the Sheraton.

Perot was leveling with him. "My men aren't criminals of any kind," he said. "They're ordinary businessmen who have wives and children worrying themselves to death back home. The Iranians kept them in jail for six weeks without bringing any charges or finding any evidence against them. Now they're free and they're trying to get out of the country. If they're caught, you can imagine how much chance they'd have of justice: none at all. The way things are in Iran now, my men may not get as far as the border. I want to go in and get them, and that's where I need your help. I have to borrow, rent, or buy a small aircraft. Now, can you help me?"

"No," said the Consul. "In this country it's against the law for private individuals to have aircraft. Because it's against the law, the planes aren't here even for someone who's prepared to break the law."

"But you must have aircraft."

"The State Department has no aircraft."

Perot despaired. Was he to sit and do nothing to help the Dirty Team?

The Consul said: "Mr. Perot, we're here to help American citizens, and I'm going to try to get you an aircraft. I'll pull whatever strings I can. But I'll tell you now that my chance of success is close to zero."

"Well, I appreciate it."

The Consul got up to go.

Perot said: "It's very important that my presence in Turkey be kept secret. Right now the Iranian authorities have no idea where my men are. If they should learn that I'm here, they will be able to figure out how my men are getting out, and that would be a catastrophe. So please be very discreet."

"I understand."

The Consul left.

A few minutes later the phone rang. It was T. J. Marquez calling from Dallas.

"Perot, you're on the front page of the paper today."

Perot's heart sank: the story was out.

T. J. said: "The governor just appointed you chairman of the Drug Commission."

Perot breathed again. "Marquez, you scared me."

T. J. laughed.

"You shouldn't do that to an old man," Perot said. "Boy, you really caught my attention there."

"Wait a minute, Margot's on the other line," said T. J. "She just wants to wish you a happy Valentine's Day."

Perot realized it was February 14. He said: "Tell her I'm completely safe, and being guarded at all times by two blondes."

"Wait a minute, I'll tell her." T. J. came back on the line a minute later, laughing. "She says, isn't it interesting that you need two to replace her?"

Perot chuckled. He had walked into that one: he should have known better than to try to score points off Margot. "Now, did you get through to Tehran?"

"Yes. The international operator got us a line, and we blew it on a wrong number. Then A.T. and T. got us a line and we reached Gholam."

"And?"

"Nothing. He hasn't heard from them."

Perot's temporary cheerfulness vanished. "What did you ask him?"

"We just said: 'Are there any messages?' and he said there weren't."

"Damn." Perot almost wished the Dirty Team had called to say they were in trouble, for then at least he would have known their location.

He said goodbye to T. J. and got ready for bed. He had lost the Clean Team, he had lost Boulware, and now he had lost the Dirty Team. He had failed to get hold of an aircraft in which to go looking for them. The whole operation was a mess--and there was not a thing he could do about it.