On Wings Of Eagles (1990)

The streets were full of people and traffic. Everyone seemed to know that these buses contained Americans, and their hatred was palpable. They yelled and shook their fists. A truck pulled alongside, and the driver leaned out of his window and spat on the bus.

The convoy was stopped several times. Different areas of the city seemed to be under the control of different revolutionary groups, and each group had to demonstrate its authority by stopping the buses and then giving them permission to proceed.

It took two hours to drive the six miles to the airport.

The scene there was chaotic. There were more television cameras and reporters, plus hundreds of armed men running around, some wearing scraps of uniform, some directing traffic, all of them in charge, all having a different opinion on where the buses should go.

The Americans finally got inside the terminal at nine-thirty.

Embassy personnel started distributing the passports they had collected during the night. Five were missing: those of Howell, Poche, Young, and the Gallaghers.

After Paul and Bill had given their passports to the Embassy for safekeeping back in November, the Embassy had refused to return them without informing the police. Would they pull the same trick now?

Suddenly Poche came pushing through the crowd with five passports in his hand: "I found them on a shelf behind a counter," he said. "I guess they got put there by accident."

Bob Young saw two Americans holding photographs and scanning the crowd. To his horror, they started to approach the EDS people. They walked up to Rich and Cathy Gallagher.

Surely Dadgar would not take Cathy hostage?

The people smiled and said they had some of the Gallaghers' luggage.

Young relaxed.

Friends of the Gallaghers had salvaged some of the bags from the Hyatt, and had asked these two Americans to bring them to the airport and try to give them to the Gallaghers. The people had agreed, but they did not know the Gallaghers--hence, the photographs.

It had been a false alarm, but if anything, it increased their anxiety.

Joe Poche decided to see what he could find out. He went off and located a Pan Am ticket agent. "I work for EDS," Poche told the agent. "Are the Iranians looking for anyone?"

"Yes, they're looking pretty hard for two people," said the agent.

"Anybody else?"

"No. And the stop list is several weeks old."

"Thanks."

Poche went back and told the others.

The evacuees were starting to go from the check-in concourse through to the departure lounge.

Poche said: "I suggest we split up. That way we won't look like a group, and if one or two of you get into trouble, the others may still get through. I'll be last, so if anyone has to stay behind, I'll stay, too."

Bob Young looked at his suitcase and saw that it bore a luggage tag saying: "William D. Gaylord."

He suffered a moment of panic. If the Iranians saw that, they would think he was Bill and arrest him.

He knew how it had happened. His own suitcases had been destroyed at the Hyatt by the revolutionaries who had shot up the rooms. However, one or two cases had been left more or less undamaged, and Young had borrowed one. This was it.

He tore the luggage tag off and stuffed it into his pocket, intending to get rid of it at the first opportunity.

They all went through the "Passengers Only" gate.

Next they had to pay the airport tax. This amused Poche: the revolutionaries must have decided that airport tax was the one good thing the Shah introduced, he thought.

The next queue was for passport control.

Howell reached the desk at noon.

The guard checked his exit documentation thoroughly, and stamped it. Next he looked at the picture in the passport, then looked hard at Howell's face. Finally he checked the name in the passport against a list he had on his desk.

Howell held his breath.

The guard handed him his passport and waved him through.

Joe Poche went through passport control last. The guard looked extra hard at him, comparing the face with the photograph, for Poche now had a red beard. But eventually he, too, was allowed through.

The Clean Team was in a jovial mood in the departure lounge: it was all over, Howell thought, now that they had come through passport control.

At two in the afternoon they began to pass through the gates. At this point there was normally a security check. This time, as well as searching for weapons, the guards were confiscating maps, photographs of Tehran, and large sums of money. None of the Clean Team lost their money, however; the guards did not look in Poche's shoes.

Outside the gates, some of the baggage was lined up on the tarmac. Passengers had to check whether any of theirs was there, and if so to open it for searching before it was loaded onto the plane. None of the Clean Team's bags had been picked out for this special treatment.

They boarded buses and were driven across the runway to where two 747s were waiting. Once again, the television cameras were there.