On Wings Of Eagles (1990)

He has a million things to do, Rashid thought. He has just taken control of this town, and he has never been in power before. He must deal with the officers of the defeated army, he must round up suspected SAVAK agents and interrogate them, he must get the town running normally, he must guard against a counterrevolution, and he must send troops to fight in Tabriz.

All he wants to do, Rashid concluded, is cross things off his list.

He has no time or sympathy for fleeing Americans. If he must make a decision, he will simply throw us in jail for the time being, and deal with us later, at his leisure. Therefore, I must make sure that he does not decide.

Rashid was shown into a schoolroom. The leader was sitting on the floor. He was a tall, strong man with the thrill of victory in his face; but he looked exhausted, confused, and restless.

Rashid's escort said in Farsi: "This man comes from Mahabad with a letter from the mullah--he has six Americans with him."

Rashid thought of a movie he had seen in which a man got into a guarded building by flashing his driving license instead of a pass. If you had enough confidence you could undermine people's suspicions.

"No, I come from the Tehran Revolutionary Committee," Rashid said. "There are five or six thousand Americans in Tehran, and we have decided to send them home. The airport is closed, so we will bring them all out this way. Obviously we must make arrangements and set up procedures for handling all these people. That is why I am here. But you have many problems to deal with--perhaps I should discuss the details with your subordinates."

"Yes," said the leader, and waved them away.

It was the technique of the Big Lie, and it had worked.

"I'm the deputy leader," said Rashid's escort as they left the room. They went into another room where five or six people were drinking tea. Rashid talked to the deputy leader, loud enough for the others to hear. "These Americans just want to get home and see their families. We're happy to get rid of them, and we want to treat them right so they won't have anything against the new regime."

"Why do you have Americans with you now?" the deputy asked.

"For a trial run. This way, you know, we find out what the problems are ..."

"But you don't have to let them cross the border."

"Oh, yes. They are good men who have never done any harm to our country, and they have wives and children at home--one of them has a little child dying in the hospital. So the Revolutionary Committee in Tehran has instructed me to see them across the border ..."

He kept talking. From time to time the deputy would interrupt him with a question: Whom did the Americans work for? What did they have with them? How did Rashid know they were not SAVAK agents spying for the counterrevolutionaries in Tabriz? For every question Rashid had an answer, and a long one. While he was talking, he could be persuasive; whereas if he were silent, the others would have time to think of objections. People came in and went out continually. The deputy left three or four times.

Eventually he came in and said: "I have to clear this with Tehran."

Rashid's heart sank. Of course nobody in Tehran would verify his story. But it would take forever to get a call through. "Everything has been verified in Tehran, and there is no need to reverify," he said. "But if you insist, I'll take these Americans to a hotel to wait." He added: "You had better send some guards with us." The deputy would have sent the guards anyway: asking for them was a way of allaying suspicion.

"I don't know," said the deputy.

"This is not a good place to keep them," Rashid said. "It could cause trouble. They might be harmed." He held his breath. Here they were trapped. In a hotel they would at least have the chance to make a break for the border...

"Okay," said the deputy.

Rashid concealed his relief.

Paul was deeply grateful to see Rashid coming down the steps of the schoolhouse. It had been a long wait. Nobody had actually pointed guns at them, but they had got an awful lot of hostile looks.

"We can go to the hotel," said Rashid.

The Kurds from Mahabad shook hands with them and left in their ambulance. A few moments later the Americans left in the two Range Rovers, followed by four or five armed guards in another car. They drove to the hotel. This time they all went in. There was an argument between the hotel keeper and the guards, but the guards won, and the Americans were assigned four rooms on the third floor at the back, and told to keep the curtains drawn and stay away from windows in case local snipers thought Americans inviting targets.

They gathered in one of the rooms. They could hear distant gunfire. Rashid organized lunch and ate with them: barbecued chicken, rice, bread, and Coke. Then he left for the school.