On Wings Of Eagles (1990)

Schwebach and Poche, the two quietest men in the room, would understand: they had been there, they knew how it had been. The others did not: Sculley, Boulware, Jackson, and Davis. If this rescue turns nasty, Coburn wondered again, how will they make out?

The door opened, and Simons came in.

2____

The room fell silent as Simons walked to the head of the conference table.

He's a big son of a bitch, Coburn thought.

T. J. Marquez and Merv Stauffer came in after Simons and sat near the door.

Simons threw a black plastic suitcase into a corner, dropped into a chair, and lit a small cigar.

He was casually dressed in a shirt and pants--no tie--and his hair was long for a colonel. He looked more like a farmer than a soldier, Coburn thought.

He said: "I'm Colonel Simons."

Coburn expected him to say, I'm in charge, listen to me and do what I say, this is my plan.

Instead, he started asking questions.

He wanted to know all about Tehran: the weather, the traffic, what the buildings were made of, the people in the streets, the numbers of policemen and how they were armed.

He was interested in every detail. They told him that all the police were armed except the traffic cops. How could you distinguish them? By their white hats. They told him there were blue cabs and orange cabs. What was the difference? The blue cabs had fixed routes and fixed fares. Orange cabs would go anywhere, in theory, but usually when they pulled up there was already a passenger inside, and the driver would ask which way you were headed. If you were going his way you could get in, and note the amount already on the meter; then when you got out you paid the increase: the system was an endless source of arguments with cabbies.

Simons asked where, exactly, the jail was located. Merv Stauffer went to find street maps of Tehran. What did the building look like? Joe Poche and Ron Davis both remembered driving past it. Poche sketched it on an easel pad.

Coburn sat back and watched Simons work. Picking the men's brains was only half of what he was up to, Coburn realized. Coburn had been an EDS recruiter for years, and he knew a good interviewing technique when he saw it. Simons was sizing up each man, watching reactions, testing for common sense. Like a recruiter, he asked a lot of openended questions, often following with "Why?," giving people an opportunity to reveal themselves, to brag or bullshit or show signs of anxiety.

Coburn wondered whether Simons would flank any of them.

At one point he said: "Who is prepared to die doing this?"

Nobody said a word.

"Good," said Simons. "I wouldn't take anyone who was planning on dying."

The discussion went on for hours. Simons broke it up soon after midnight. It was clear by then that they did not know enough about the jail to begin planning the rescue. Coburn was deputized to find out more overnight: he would make some phone calls to Tehran.

Simons said: "Can you ask people about the jail without letting them know why you want the information?"

"I'll be discreet," Coburn said.

Simons turned to Merv Stauffer. "We'll need a secure place for us all to meet. Somewhere that isn't connected with EDS."

"What about the hotel?"

"The walls are thin."

Stauffer considered for a moment. "Ross has a little house at Lake Grapevine, out toward DFW Airport. There won't be anyone out there swimming or fishing in this weather, that's for sure."

Simons looked dubious.

Stauffer said: "Why don't I drive you out there in the morning so you can look it over?"

"Okay." Simons stood up. "We've done all we can at this point in the game."

They began to drift out.

As they were leaving, Simons asked Davis for a word in private.

"You ain't so goddam tough, Davis."

Ron Davis stared at Simons in surprise.

"What makes you think you're a tough guy?" Simons said.

Davis was floored. All evening Simons had been polite, reasonable, quiet-spoken. Now he was making like he wanted to fight. What was happening?

Davis thought of his martial arts expertise, and of the three muggers he had disposed of in Tehran, but he said: "I don't consider myself a tough guy."

Simons acted as if he had not heard. "Against a pistol your karate is no bloody good whatsoever."

"I guess not--"

"This team does not need any ba-ad black bastards spoiling for a fight."

Davis began to see what this was all about. Keep cool, he told himself. "I did not volunteer for this because I want to fight people, Colonel, I--"

"Then why did you volunteer?"

"Because I know Paul and Bill and their wives and children and I want to help."

Simons nodded dismissively. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Davis wondered whether that meant he had passed the test.

In the afternoon on the next day, January 3, 1979, they all met at Perot's weekend house on the shore of Lake Grapevine.