On Wings Of Eagles (1990)

All I need, he thought, having gotten this far, is to have the U.S. networks show my picture ...

He pushed his way through the crowd to the Embassy minibus and climbed aboard.

Coburn and Gallagher got on with him, but the Embassy people had lagged behind.

Perot sat on the bus, looking out the window. The crowd in the square seemed malevolent. They were shouting in Farsi. Perot had no idea what they were saying.

He wished the Embassy people would hurry up.

"Where are those guys?" he said tetchily.

"They're coming," Coburn said.

"I thought we'd all just come on out, get in the bus, and leave."

A minute later the prison door opened again and the Embassy people came out. They got on the bus. The driver started the engine and pulled away across Gasr Square.

Perot relaxed.

He need not have worried quite so much. Ramsey Clark, who was there at the invitation of Iranian human-rights groups, did not have such a good memory. He had known that Perot's face was vaguely familiar, but thought he was Colonel Frank Borman, the president of Eastern Airlines.

2___

Emily Gaylord sat down with her needlepoint. She was making a nude for Bill.

Jay Coburn: holding in his hands the safety of 131 employees in a city where mob violence ruled the streets

Paul and Bill: their bail was S13 million.

Ross Perot: until this moment, life had been good to him.

Perot's parents: he had his father's love of jokes, his mother's iron will.

Bull Simons. ABOVE with Lucille. BELOW, the San Francisco party.

ABOVE. the Seventh Floor Squad.

FROM LEFT: gentle Mery Stauffer. aggressive "Tom Luce, slow-talking Tom Walter, and argumentative T. J. Marquez.

BELOW. Tehran negotiators. FROM LEFT jovial Bill Gayden. persistent John Howell, and quick-tempered keane Taylor.

Sculley: world's worst liar

Schwebach : explosives

Boulware: independent

The Dirty Dozen they were not.

Davis: karate

Jackson: rocket man

Poche: iron man

ABOVE, the code.

BELOW, Ross Perot and his son.

Fire and smoke seen from the roof of the EDS Bucharest office.

Iran exploded into revolution on Friday, February 9, 1979.

ON THE RUN

Keane Taylor in cold-weather gear.

Lunch break. FROM LEFT Rashid, Simons, Gayden, and Bill.

The mountains of northwest Iran.

Davis and Gayden.

A beautiful sight: the bus at the border.

ABOARD THE "PERSIAN WHOREHOUSE"

Simons and Boulware.

Pilot John Carlen.

Davis, Perot, and Gayden.

Taylor and Coburn.

SLEEPING EAGLES

Simons and Coburn

Perot.

Paul.

Sculley.

TOGETHER AGAIN

Bill and Emily.

Paul and Ruthie.

John Howell with Angela and baby Michael.

Bob, Molly, and Christine Young.

Perot and Simons tell the story.

Bill with Emily and daughters Vicki and Jacqueline.

She was back at her parents' house in Washington, and it was another normal day of quiet desperation. She had driven Vicki to high school, then returned and taken Jackie, Jenny, and Chris to elementary school. She had dropped by her sister Dorothy's place and talked for a while with her and her husband, Tim Reardon. Tim was still working through Senator Kennedy and Congressman Tip O'Neill to put pressure on the State Department.

Emily was becoming obsessed with Dadgar, the mystery man who had the power to put her husband in jail and keep him there. She wanted to confront Dadgar herself, and ask him personally why he was doing this to her. She had even asked Tim to try to get her a diplomatic passport, so she could go to Iran and just knock on Dadgar's door. Tim had said it was a pretty crazy idea, and she realized he was right; but she was desperate to do something, anything, to get Bill back.

Now she was waiting for the daily call from Dallas. It was usually Ross, T. J. Marquez, or Jim Nyfeler who called. After that she would pick up the children, then help them with their homework for a while. Then there was nothing ahead but the lonely night.

She had only recently told Bill's parents that he was in jail. Bill had asked her, in a letter read over the phone by Keane Taylor, not to tell them until it was absolutely necessary, because Bill's father had a history of strokes and the shock might be dangerous. But after three weeks the pretense had become impossible, so she had broken the news; and Bill's father had been angry at having been kept in the dark so long. Sometimes it was hard to know the right thing to do.

The phone rang, and she snatched it up. "Hello?"

"Emily? This is Jim Nyfeler."

"Hi, Jim, what's the news?"

"Just that they've been moved to another jail."

Why was there never any good news?

"It's nothing to worry about," Jim said. "In fact, it's good. The old jail was in the south of the city, where the fighting is. This one is further north, and more secure--they'll be safer there."

Emily lost her cool. "But, Jim," she yelled, "you've been telling me for three weeks that they're perfectly safe in jail. Now you say they've been moved to a new jail and now they'll be safe!"

"Emily--"