On Wings Of Eagles (1990)

"I'm in Turkey on business," Perot told him. "I've just read about Sergeant Krause. I have a plane here. If the Embassy can get Krause to the airport, we will fly in tonight and pick him up and see he gets proper medical care."

"All right," said Wilson. "If he's dying I want you to pick him up. If not, I won't risk your crew. I'll get back to you."

Perot got Sally back on the line. There was more bad news. A press officer in the State Department's Iran Task Force had talked to Robert Dudney, Washington correspondent for the Dallas Times-Herald,and revealed that Paul and Bill were on their way out overland.

Perot cursed the State Department yet again. If Dudney published the story, and the news reached Tehran, Dadgar would surely intensify border security.

The seventh floor in Dallas blamed Perot for all this. He had leveled with the Consul, who had come to see him the night before, and they believed the leak started with the Consul. They were now frantically trying to get the story killed, but the newspaper was making no promises.

General Wilson called back. Sergeant Krause was not dying: Perot's help was not required.

Perot forgot about Krause and concentrated on his own problems.

The Consul called him. He had tried his best, but he could not help Perot buy or rent a small aircraft. It was possible to charter a plane to go from one airport to another within Turkey, but that was all.

Perot said nothing to him about the press leak.

He called in Dick Douglas and Julian "Scratch" Kanauch, the two spare pilots he had brought specifically to fly small aircraft into Iran, and told them he had failed to find any such aircraft.

"Don't worry," said Douglas. "We'll get an airplane."

"How?"

"Don't ask."

"No, I want to know how."

"I've operated in eastern Turkey. I know where there are planes. If you need 'em, we'll steal 'em."

"Have you thought this through?" said Perot.

"You think it through," Douglas said. "If we get shot down over Iran, what difference does it make that we stole the plane? If we don't get shot down, we can put the planes back where we got them. Even if they have a few holes in them, we'll be out of the area before anybody knows. What else is there to think about?"

"That settles it," said Perot. "We're going."

He sent John Carlen and Ron Davis to the airport to file a flight plan to Van, the nearest airport to the border.

Davis called from the airport to say that the 707 could not land at Van: it was a Turkish-language-only airport, so no foreign planes were allowed to land except U.S. military planes carrying interpreters.

Perot called Mr. Fish and asked him to arrange to fly the team to Van. Mr. Fish called back a few minutes later to say it was all fixed. He would go with the team as guide. Perot was surprised: until now, Mr. Fish had been adamant that he would not go to eastern Turkey. Perhaps he had become infected by the spirit of adventure.

However, Perot himself would have to stay behind. He was the hub of the wheel: he had to stay in telephone contact with the outside world, to receive reports from Boulware, from Dallas, from the Clean Team, and from the Dirty Team. If the 707 had been able to land at Van, Perot could have gone, for the plane's single-sideband radio enabled him to make phone calls all over the world; but without that radio he would be out of touch in eastern Turkey, and there would be no link between the fugitives in Iran and the people who were coming to meet them.

So he sent Pat Sculley, Jim Schwebach, Ron Davis, Mr. Fish, and the pilots Dick Douglas and Julian Kanauch to Van; and he appointed Pat Sculley leader of the Turkish Rescue Team.

When they had gone he was dead in the water again. They were just another bunch of his men off doing dangerous things in dangerous places. He could only sit and wait for news.

He spent a lot of time thinking about John Carlen and the crew of the Boeing 707. He had only known them for a few days: they were ordinary Americans. Yet Carlen had been prepared to risk his life to fly into Tehran and pick up a wounded marine. As Simons would say: This is what Americans are supposed to do for one another. It made Perot feel pretty good, despite everything.

The phone rang.

He answered. "Ross Perot."

"This is Ralph Boulware."

"Hi, Ralph, where are you?"

"I'm at the border."

"Good!"

"I've just seen Rashid."

Perot's heart leaped. "Great! What did he say?"

"They're safe."

"Thank God!"

"They're in a hotel thirty or forty miles from the border. Rashid is just scouting the territory in advance. He's gone back now. He says they'll probably cross tomorrow, but that's just his idea, and Simons may think otherwise. If they're that close I don't see Simons waiting until morning."

"Right. Now, Pat Sculley and Mr. Fish and the rest of the guys are on their way to you. They're flying to Van; then they'll rent a bus. Now, where will they find you?"

"I'm based in a village called Yuksekova, closest place to the border, at a hotel. It's the only hotel in the district."