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gourmet dinners for themselves and the few trusted outsiders
who visited.
 We ve also become the Scrabble champions of Iran, Cora
said cheerfully.
At that moment, one of the friendly ambassadors and his
attaché,  Richard, arrived to meet us, confirming their inten-
tion to help in any way they could, news we received with
gratitude. Before Claude drove us back to the city center, I is-
sued the Six their Argo supporting documents and resumes
from the portfolio, wishing them luck and feeling optimistic
as I looked into their hopeful faces.
THE MASTER OF DISGUISE / 297
OVER THE NEXT two days, the operation progressed swiftly.
While the six were rehearsing their legends, Julio and I worked
at the Canadian embassy on the travel itinerary of the Studio
Six team, whose cover legend and airline tickets showed them
arriving in Tehran from Hong Kong within the same hour that
Julio and I had arrived at Mehrabad from Zurich. Because this
Air France flight had landed on time, its disembarking passen-
gers would have been processed by the same immigration of-
ficers we had encountered. Therefore, the Iranian cachets
stamped in our passports were prime exemplars for those we
now entered in the passports of the six.
That afternoon, we asked Richard to drive out to Mehrabad
and pick up a stack of dual-sheet immigration forms from one
of his contacts working for an international airline. Julio com-
pleted the Farsi notations on about twenty of these, using
phrasing identical to our own. Such an act provided the six
with enough forms to enter their false bio-data in their own
handwriting and to use their alias signatures.
On Sunday morning, I completed a long cable to the Agency
describing the final operations plan in detail, including Taylor s
proposed addition to our cover:
SIX CANADIANS FROM STUDIO SIX PRODUCTIONS CALLED
ON THE AMBASSADOR, HOPING THE COULD FACILITATE AN
APPOINTMENT WITH THE MINISTRY OF NATIONAL GUID-
ANCE TO PRESENT THEIR PROPOSAL TO LEASE PART OF THE
LOCAL BAZAAR FOR TEN DAYS DURING THE SHOOTING OF
THE FILMARGO. THE AMBASSADOR HAS ADVISED THEM TO
SEEK A LOCATION ELSEWHERE IF POSSIBLE, BUT HAS OFFERED
ON E OF THE EMBASSY S VACANT RESIDENCES AS GUEST
QUARTERS UNTIL THEY CAN ARRANGE TRAVEL,
298 / ANTONIO J. MENDEZWITH MALCOLM MCCONNELL
THEY HAVE ACCEPTED THE EMBASSY S HOSPITALITY AND
ADVICE AND WILL PROBABLY DEPART ON MONDAY, 28
JANUARY.
When we reconvened Sunday night at the Sheardown resid-
ence Julio and I were struck by the transformation of the six s
appearances and personalities. On Friday night, I had given
them the disguise materials and clothing props we had been
able to secure without arousing suspicion. Since then, they had
borrowed clothes from each other and revamped their images,
having fun as they hammed it up as glamorous Hollywood
people.
Cora Lijek had parted her dark hair so that it fell back across
her neck in a severe  literary style. Normally a nonsmoker,
she now puffed nonchalantly on a cigarette, looking the epit-
ome of the sophisticated screen writer. I darkened Mark Lijek s
wispy blond beard with mascara, altering a face that had be-
come too familiar at the U.S. Consulate. Then I showed Kath-
leen Stafford how to pin up her long brunette hair. After adding
thick-rimmed glasses and the Argo location sketchbook to her
ensemble, she could easily pass muster as the set designer.
But Bob Anders, the stereotypically conservative consul
general, had pulled off the most dramatic metamorphosis. His
white hair was now puffed out in a blow-dried pompadour,
and he wore tight, pocketless twill jeans with a slight flare, an
even tighter blue silk shirt open at the chest, and a chunky
gold chain and medallion.
 Check this out, he said with a wry smile. Slipping a topcoat
across his shoulders with the suave bravado of a character in
a Fellini film, he strutted around the room with the chutzpah
of a Wilshire Boulevard stud.
After the fashion show, we briefed them on the details of
their supposed journey and arrival in Tehran. They were clearly
intrigued with
THE MASTER OF DISGUISE / 299
the visas and the deceptively authentic Farsi notations Julio
had made, then collected the white originals of their immigra-
tion forms and burned them in the fireplace. Several of the six
were concerned that exit control might try to match their yellow
copies with the white cover sheets.  The authorities haven t
checked the white originals for months, I assured the six.  But
if they do complain, just act dumb. How are you supposed to
know what happened to their little white sheets? You ve got
your yellow copies.
Roger Lucy tried to lighten the mood.  Just remember to
end every sentence with  eh? and you ll be all right.
Before dinner, I warned the houseguests not to drink too
much, reminding them that they would face a  hostile inter-
rogation after the meal from Roger Lucy. Beaming as usual,
Taylor arrived soon after. He had received an answer to our
cable. The policymakers in both Ottawa and Washington were
pleased with our proposed plan of action. They had concluded
their message with  SEE YOU LATER, EXFILTRATOR .
The two friendly ambassadors now joined us, and the mood
became quite festive. The six served us a seven-course dinner,
along with the Sheardowns vintage wine, champagne, coffee,
and liqueurs. When I revealed the origin of Argo and Jerome s
knock-knock joke, they all raised their glasses and rallied to
the  Argo! battle cry. Then I got serious, and asked them to
resist the temptation to publish details of the exfiltration in the
future, as it was crucial for Julio and me to stay in business.
Now it was time for the interrogations. Roger Lucy, dressed
in camouflage battledress jacket and military boots, took each
American into a side room to be grilled. We heard him shouting
angrily, relying on the old interrogator s trick of using the
agent s real name, not the alias. Each
300 / ANTONIO J. MENDEZWITH MALCOLM MCCONNELL
time one of the six slipped up, Lucy began the fierce interrog-
ation again.  Where visa issued? he shouted in his best Farsi
accent.  When? Name of father? You liar! You American spy!
Before Julio and I left at midnight, we reviewed the final
arrangements for travel to the airport. I would precede the
others by thirty minutes, driven by Richard, who would pick
me up at the hotel at exactly three A.M. Once in the terminal,
I would confirm that the security situation was normal and
that the Swissair plane was en route from Zurich Then I would
put my suitcase through customs departure control and check
in at the airline counter, where I would linger so that the others
could see me as a personal,  all clear signal as they entered
the terminal. Julio would accompany the six to the airport in
the embassy van and lead the way through Customs.
As Julio and I shook hands all around, the six repeated their
hearty  Argo! cry. They re as ready as they ll ever be, I thought.
I WOKE WITH a start in my hotel room to the shrill rings of the
telephone. Richard was calling from the lobby. It was three in
the morning, and I should have been up at 2:15. My watch
alarm had gone off, but I had slept through it. I jumped into
the shower, dressed, and joined Richard in the lobby less than
fifteen minutes later. He drove his ambassador s Mercedes
dangerously fast through the narrow streets, and we arrived
at the floodlit Mehrabad terminal just after 4:30 A.M.
The customs clerk glanced at my passport, chalked my
suitcase, and nodded toward the ticket counters. There were
just a handful of passengers in the hall, and several airport
employees were dozing at their desks. The friendly young
Swissair rep confirmed the flight was on time to arrive at five
A.M. He took my bag and issued a boarding pass and baggage
check. So far, so good, I thought.
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