into the Hyatt.
Dadgar had not arrested any more EDS people-yet.
Howell needed no more convincing. He was going to stay out of Dadgar's way
until he was sure of the ground rules.
Then, at eight-thirty this morning, Dadgar had raided Bucharest.
He had turned up with half a dozen investigators and demanded to see EDS's
files. Howell, hiding in an office on another floor, had called Houman.
After a quick discussion he had advised all EDS personnel to cooperate with
Dadgar.
Dadgar had wanted to see Paul Chiapparone's files. The filing cabinet in
Paul's secretary's office was locked and nobody could find the key. Of
course that made Dadgar all the more keen to see the files. Keane Taylor
had solved the problem in characteristi-
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 173
cally direct fashion: he had got a crowbar and broken the cabinet open.
Meanwhile, Howell snuck out of the building, met Dr. Hournan, and went to
the Ministry of Justice.
That, too, had been scary, for he had been obliged to fight his way through
an unnily crowd that was demonstrating, outside the Ministry, against the
holding of political prisoners.
Howell and Hournan had an appointment with Dr. Kian, Dadgar's superior.
Howell told Kian that EDS was a reputable company that had done nothing
wrong, and it was eager to cooperate in any investigation in order to clear
its name, but it wanted to get its employees out of jail.
Kian said he had asked one of his assistants to ask Dadgar to review the
case.
That sounded to Howell like nothing at all.
He told Kian he wanted to talk about a reduction in the bail.
The conversation took place in Farsi, with Hournan translating. Houman said
that Kian was not inflexibly opposed to a reduction in the bail. In
Houman's opinion they might expect it to be halved.
Kian gave Howell a note authorizing him to visit Paul and Bill in jail.
The meeting had been just about fruitless, Howell thought afterward, but at
least Kian had not arrested him.
When he returned to Bucharest he found that Dadgar had not arrested anyone
either.
His lawyer's instinct still told him not to see Dadgar; but now that
instinct struggled with another side of his personality: impatience. There
were times when Howell wearied of research, preparation, foresight,
planning---times when he wanted to move on a problem instead of thinking
about it. He liked to take the initiative, to have the opposition reacting
to him rather than the other way around. This inclination was reinforced by
the presence in Tehran of Ross Perot, always up first in the morning,
asking people what they had achieved yesterday and what tasks they intended
to accomplish today, always on everyone's back. So impatience got the
better of caution, and Howell decided to confront Dadgar.
This was why he was scared.
If he was unhappy, his wife was more so.
Angela Howell had not seen much of her husband in the last
174 Ken Folleu
two months. He had spent most of November and December in Tehran, tying to
persuade the Ministry to pay EDS's bill. Since getting back to the States he
had been staying at EDS headquarters until all hours of the night, working
on the Paul and Bill problem, when he was not dashing off to New York for
meetings with Iranian lawyers there. On December 31 Howell had arrived home
at breakfast time, after working all night at EDS, to find Angela and baby
Michael, nine months old, huddled in front of a wood fire in a cold, dark
house: the ice storm had caused a power failure. He had moved them into his
sister's apartment and gone off to New York again.
Angela had had about as much as she could take, and when he announced he
was going to Tehran again she had been upset. "You know what's going on
over there," she had said. "Why do you have to go back?"
The trouble was, he did not have a simple answer to that question. It was
not clear just what he was going to do in Tehran. He was going to work on
the problem, but he did not know how. If he had been able to say, "Look,
this is what has to be done, and it's my responsibility, and I'm the only
one who can do it," she might have understood.
"John, we're a family. I need your help to take care of all this," she had
said, meaning the ice storm, the blackouts, and the baby.
"I'm sorry. Just do the best you can. I'll try to stay in touch," Howell
had said.
They were not the kind of married couple to express their feelings by
yelling at each other. On the frequent occasions when he upset her by
working late, leaving her to sit alone and eat the dinner she bad fixed for
him, a certain coolness was the closest they came to fighting. But this was
worse than missing supper. he was abandoning her and the baby just when
they needed him.
They had a long talk that evening. At the end of it Angela was no happier,
but she was at least resigned.
He had called her several times since, from London and from Tehran. She was
watching the nots on the TV news and worrying about him. She would have
been even more worried if she had known what he was about to do now.
He pushed domestic concerns to the back of his mind and went to find
Abolhasan.
Abolhasan was EDS's senior Iranian employee. When Lloyd Briggs had left for
New York, Abolhasan had been in charge of
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 175
EDS in Iran. (Rich Gallagher, the only American still there, was not a
manager.) Then Keane Taylor had returned and assumed overall charge, and
Abolhasan had been offended. Taylor was no diplomat. (Bill Gayden, the
genial president of EDS World, had coined the sarcastic phrase "Keane's
Marine Corps sensitivity training.") There had been friction. But Howell got
on fine with Abolhasan, who could translate not just the Farsi language but
also Persian customs and methods for his American employers.
Dadgar knew Abolhasan's father, a distinguished lawyer, and had met
Abolhasan lumself at the interrogation of Paul and Bill; so this morning
Abolhasan had been appointed liaison man with Dadgar's investigators, and
had been instructed to make sure they had everything they asked for.
Howell said to Abolhasan: "I've decided I should meet with Dadgar. What do
you think?"
"Sure," Abolhasan said. He had an American wffe and spoke English with an
American accent. "I don't think that'll be a problem."
Okay. Let's go."
Abolhasan led Howell to Paul Chiapparone's conference room. Dadgar and his
assistants were sitting around the big table, going throtigh EDS's
financial records. Abolhasan asked Dadgar to step into the adjoining room,
Paul's office; then he introduced Howell.
Dadgar gave a businesslike handshake.
They sat around the table in the comer of the office. Dadgar did not look
to Howell like a monster: just a rather weary middle-aged man who was
losing his hair.
Howell began by repeating to Dadgar what he had said to Dr. Kian: "EDS is
a reputable company that has done nothing wrong, and we are willing to
senior executives in jail."
Dadgar's answer--traiislated by Abolhasan---surprised him. "If you have
done nothing wrong, why have you not paid the bail?"
"There's no connection between the two," Howell said. "Bail is a guarantee
that someone will appear for trial, not a sum to be forfeited if he is
guilty. Bail is repaid as soon as the accused
appears in court, regardless of the verdict." While Abolhasan translated,
Howell wondered whether "bail" was the correct English translation of
whatever Farsi word Dadgar was using to
176 Ken Follett
describe the $12,750,000 he was demanding. And now Howell recalled something
else that might be significant. On the day Paul and Bill were arrested, he
had talked on the phone with Abolhasan, who reported that the $12,750,000
was, according to Dadgar, the total amount EDS had been paid to date by the
Ministry of Health; and Dadgar's argument had been that if the contract had
been cormptly awarded, then EDS was not entitled to that money. (Abolhasan
had not translated this remark to Paul and Bill at the time.)
In fact, EDS had been paid a good deal more than thirteen million dollm, so
the remark had not made much sense, and Howell had discounted it. Perhaps
that had been a mistake: it might just be that Dadgar's arithmetic was
wrong.
Abolhasan was translating Dadgar's reply. "If the men are innocent, there
is no reason why they should not appear for trial, so you would risk
nothing by paying the bail. "
"An American corporation can't do that," Howell said. He was not lying, but
he was being deliberately deceitfid. "EDS is a publicly traded company, and
under American securities laws it can only use its money for the benefit of
its sharehoMm. Paul and Bill are free individuals: the company cannot
guarantee that they will show up fbr trial. Consequently we cannot spend
the company's money this way. 11
This was the initial negotiating position Howell had previously formulated,
but, as Abolhasan translated, he could see it was making little impression
on Dadgar.
"T'heir families have to put up the bail," he went on. "Right now they are
raising money in the States, but thirteen million dollars is out of the
question. Now, if the bail were lowered to a more reasonable figure, they
might be able to pay it." Tlus was all lies, of course: Ross Perot was
going to pay the bail, if he had to, and if Tom Walter could find a way to
get the money into Iran.
It was Dadgar's turn to be surprised. "Is it true that you could not force
your men to appear for trial?"
"Sure it's true," Howell said. "What are we going to do, lock them in
chains? We're not a police force. You see, you're holding individuals in
jail for alleged crimes of a corporation."
Dadgar's reply was: "No, they are in jail for what they have done pemnally.
"Which is?"
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 177
"They obtained money from the Ministry of Health by means of false progress
reports."
"This obviously cannot apply to Bill Gaylord, because the Ministry has paid
none of the bills presented since he arrived in Tehran-6o what is he
accused of?"
-He falsified reports, and I will not be cross-examined by you, Mr.
Howell."
Howell suddenly remembered that Dadgar could put lurn in jail.
Dadgar went on: "I am conducting an investigation. When it is complete, I
will either release your clients or prosecute them. "
Howell said: "We're willing to cooperate with your investigation. In the
nomfime, what can we do to get Paul and Bill released?"
"Pay the bail."
"And if they am released on bail, will they be pertnitted to leave Iran?"
"No. 11
2
jay Coburn walked through the double sliding glass doors into the lobby of
the Sheraton. On his right was the long registration desk. To his left were
the hotel shops. In the center of the lobby was a couch.
In accordance with his instructions, he bought a copy of Newsweek magazine
at the newsstand. He sat on the couch, facing the doors so that he could
see everyone who came in, and pretended to read the magazine.
He felt like a character in a spy movie.
The rescue plan was in a holding pattern while Majid researched the colonel
in charge of the jail. Meanwhile, Coburn was doing a job for Perot.
He had an assignation with a man nicknamed Deep Tbroat (after the secretive
chamter who gave "deep hwicground" to reporter Bob Woodward in AU the
President's Men. ) This Deep 17hroat was an American management consultarat
who gave seminars to foreign corporate executives on how to do business
with the Iranians. Before Paul and Bill were arrested, Lloyd Briggs
178 Ken FolkU
had engaged Deep Throat to help EDS get the Ministry to pay its bills. He
had advised Briggs that EDS was in bad trouble, but for a payment of two and
a half million dollars they could get the slate wiped clean. At the time EDS
had scorned this advice: the govermnent owed money to EDS, not vice versa;
it was the Iranians who needed to get the slate wiped clean.
The arrest had given credibility to Deep Throat (as it had to Bunny
Fleischaker) and Briggs had contacted him again. "Well, they're mad at you
now," he had said. "It's going to be harder than ever, but I'll see what I
can do."
He had called back yesterday. He could solve the problem, he said. He
demanded a face-to-face meeting with Ross Perot.
Taylor, Howell, Young, and Gallagher all agreed there was no way Perot was
going to expose himself to such a meeting-they were horrified that Deep
Throat even knew Perot was in town. So Perot asked Simons if he could send
Coburn instead, and Simons consented.
Coburn had called Deep Throat and said he would be representing Perot.
'No, no," said Deep Throat, "it has to be Perot himself."
"Then all deals am off," Coburn had replied.
Okay, okay." Deep Throat had backed down and given Coburn instructions.
Coburn had to go to a certain phone booth in the Vanak area, not far from
Keane Taylor's house, at eight P.m.
At exactly eight o'clock the phone in the booth rang. Deep Throat told
Coburn to go to the Sheraton, which was nearby, and sit in the lobby
reading Newsweek. They would meet there and Identify one another by a code.
Deep Throat would say: "Do you know where Pahlavi Avenue is?" It was a
block away, but Coburn was to reply: "No, I don't, I'm new in town."
That was why he felt like a spy in a movie.
On Simm's advice he was wearing his long, bulky down coat, the one Taylor
called his Michelin Man coat. The object was to find out whether Deep
Throat would frisk him. If not, he would be able, at any future meetings,
to wear a recording device under the coat and tape the conversation.
He flicked through the pages of Newsweek.
"Do you know where Pahlavi Avenue is?"
Coburn looked up to see a man of about his own height and weight, in his
early forties, with dark, slicked-down hair and glasses. "N
o, I don't, I'm
new in town."
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 179
Deep Throat looked around nervously. "Let's go," he said. "Over there."
Coburn got up and followed him to the back of the hotel. They stopped in a
dark passage. "I'll have to frisk you," said Deep Throat.
Coburn raised his arms. "What are you afraid of?"
Deep Throat gave a scornful laugh. "You can't trust anyone. There are no
rules anymore in this town." He finished his search.
"Do we go back in the lobby now?"
"No. I could be under surveillance-I can't risk being seen with you."
"Okay. What are you offering?"
Deep Throat gave the same scornful laugh. "You guys are in trouble, - he
said. "You've already messed up once, by refusing to listen to people who
know this country."
"How did we mess up?"
"You think this is Texas. It's not."
"But how did we mess up?"
"You could have got out of this for two and a half million dollars. Now
it'll cost you six."
"What's the deal?"
"Just a minute. You let me down last time. This is going to be your last
chance. This time, there's no backing out at the last minute."
Coburn was beginning to dislike Deep Throat. The man was a wise guy. His
whole manner said: You're such fools, and I know so much more than you,
it's hard for me to descend to your level.
"Whom do we pay the money to?" Coburn asked.
"A numbered account in Switzerland."
"And how do we know we'll get what we're paying for?"
Deep Throat laughed. "Listen, the way things work in this country, you
don't let go of your money until the goods are delivered. That's the way to
get things done here."
"Okay, so what's the arrangement?"
"Lloyd Briggs meets me in Switzerland and we open an escrow account and
sign a letter of agreement that is lodged with the bank. The money is
released from the account when Chiapparone and Gaylord get out-which will
be immediately, if you'll just let me handle this.
"Who gets the money?"
180 Ken Folkit
Deep Throat just shook his head contemptuously.
Coburn said: "Well, how do we know you really have a deal ivivired?"
"L,ook, I'm just passing on information fiorn people close to the person
who's causing you a problem."
Follett, Ken - On Wings of Eagles.txt Page 23