Free Escapes! by Laura Scandiffio

the American government was in a tough position. Agreeing to the demands would not only mean handing over their ally for certain execution. It would be saying to the world, If you seize our embassies, we’ll do what you want.
    And where did that leave the five of them? Was it just a matter of time before they were dragged back to the compound to join the rest? That’s what must have happened to Lopez and the others who’d split from their group. Anders was sure of that by now.
    Desperate, Anders called an old friend — John Sheardown, Canada’s chief immigration officer in Tehran.
    â€œWhy did you wait so long to call me?” Sheardown blurted out before Anders could finish his story.
    The next day a car pulled into Sheardown’s driveway, and inside the five fugitives sighed with relief. Finally a safe haven — for the moment, at least.
    Sheardown quickly ushered them inside, where his wife Zena was waiting. Within seconds Canada’s ambassador, Ken Taylor, arrived as well. When Sheardown had told Taylor about Anders’s phone call, the ambassador had responded without hesitating: “Okay, where will we hide them?”
    It was the kind of reaction Sheardown expected from his boss, who was energetic and unconventional, eager to cut through red tape to get to the heart of a matter. After a speedy coded message to the Ministry of External Affairs in Ottawa, Taylor got the official go-ahead to help the Americans.
    As the fugitives gathered in Sheardown’s living room, the Canadian ambassador went over the situation with them.
    â€œWe can’t hide you at the embassy — downtown is too dangerous. So we’ll be splitting you up. The Staffords will come to my house in the north of the city. The Lijeks and Bob Anders will stay here with the Sheardowns. No one will expect you to hide in our homes.”
    â€œHow about extra security? Can any Canadian military be posted to the houses?” Sheardown asked.
    Taylor shook his head. “No, that would only draw attention. It would give us away in a second. Life has to go on normally. No changes.”
    â€œBut you must have Iranian staff at your homes — servants. Can we trust them?” Joe Stafford asked.
    â€œWe’ll tell them you’re Canadian tourists, friends of mine,” Taylor said. “But you’ll have to stay inside, especially during the day. You mustn’t be spotted by the komitehs, the patrols who make the rounds of the neighborhood. Remember — stay out of sight.”
    After some hurried goodbyes, the Staffords left for the Taylor residence, and the Lijeks and Anders followed Zena Sheardown to their rooms. Cora carried all they’d brought with them in one small suitcase. They’d fled their last hiding place in such a panic, the clothes were still running in the washing machine.

    Mark Lijek sat chin in hand, drumming his fingers on his cheek and staring at the Scrabble board. Now and then he glanced up at Cora, who sat across the coffee table, waiting for his move. Nearby, Anders was sunk in an armchair, reading a magazine. The silence in the house seemed to wrap around them.
    I can’t take much more of this, Mark thought. Reading, playing cards — it was all they could do to pass the long hours trapped inside the Sheardowns’ house. For the first weeks they slept in, but still the days seemed endless. Mark and Cora were playing three hours of Scrabble a day! Cora had started running up and down the stairs to blow off steam. Anders had told them to pretend they were at a luxury resort, with a storm keeping them inside. But it hadn’t helped. It’s feeling so helpless and nervous, Mark thought, with nothing to take your mind off the fear — that’s what’s unbearable.
    At Ken Taylor’s house, the Staffords had the same cabin fever. Joe, who spoke some Farsi, listened all day to local radio, desperate for information on the hostages at the