by Ken Follett
Neghabat was astonished. "Why are you in here?"
Paul shrugged. "I kind of hoped you might be able to tell us that."
"But what are you accused of?"
"Nothing," said Paul. "We were interrogated yesterday by Mr. Dadgar, the magistrate who's investigating your former Minister, Dr. Sheik. He arrested us. No charges, no accusations. We're supposed to be 'material witnesses,' we understand."
Bill looked around. On either side of the cell were paired stacks of bunks, three high, with another pair beside the window, making eighteen altogether. As in the cell downstairs, the bunks were furnished with thin foam-rubber mattresses, the bottom bunk of the three being no more than a mattress on the floor, and gray wool blankets. However, here some of the prisoners seemed to have sheets, as well. The window, opposite the door, looked out into the courtyard. Bill could see grass, flowers, and trees, as well as parked cars belonging, he presumed, to guards. He could also see the low building where they had just talked with Jordan and Sorenson.
Neghabat introduced Paul and Bill to their cellmates, who seemed friendly and a good deal less villainous than the inmates of the basement. There were several free bunks--the cell was not as crowded as the one downstairs--and Paul and Bill took beds on either side of the doorway. Bill's was the middle bunk of three, but Paul was on the floor again.
Neghabat showed them around. Next to their cell was a kitchen, with tables and chairs, where the prisoners could make tea and coffee or just sit and talk. For some reason it was called the Chattanooga Room. Beside it was a hatch in the wall at the end of the corridor: this was a commissary, Neghabat explained, where from time to time you could buy soap, towels, and cigarettes.
Walking back down the long corridor, they passed their own cell--Number 5--and two more cells before emerging into the hall, which stretched away to their right. The room Bill had glanced into earlier turned out to be a combination guard's office and library, with books in English as well as Farsi. Next to it were two more cells. Opposite these cells was the bathroom, with sinks, showers, and toilets. The toilets were Persian style--like a shower tray with a drain hole in the middle. Bill learned that he was not likely to get the shower he longed for: normally there was no hot water.
Beyond the steel door, Neghabat said, was a little office used by a visiting doctor and dentist. The library was always open and the TV was on all evening, although of course programs were in Farsi. Twice a week the prisoners in this section were taken out into the courtyard to exercise by walking in a circle for half an hour. Shaving was compulsory: the guards would allow mustaches, but not beards.
During the tour they met two more people they knew. One was Dr. Towliati, the Ministry data-processing consultant about whom Dadgar had questioned them. The other was Hussein Pasha, who had been Neghabat's financial man at the Social Security Organization.
Paul and Bill shaved with the electric razor brought in by Sorenson and Jordan. Then it was noon, and time for lunch. In the corridor wall was an alcove screened by a curtain. From there the prisoners took a linoleum mat, which they spread on the cell floor, and some cheap tableware. The meal was steamed rice with a little lamb, plus bread and yogurt, and tea or Pepsi-Cola to drink. They sat cross-legged on the floor to eat. For Paul and Bill, both gourmets, it was a poor lunch. However, Bill found he had an appetite: perhaps it was the cleaner surroundings.
After lunch they had more visitors: their Iranian attorneys. The lawyers did not know why they had been arrested, did not know what would happen next, and did not know what they could do to help. It was a desultory, depressing conversation. Paul and Bill had no faith in them anyway, for it was these lawyers who had advised Lloyd Briggs that the bail would not exceed twenty thousand dollars. They returned no wiser and no happier.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in the Chattanooga Room, talking to Neghabat, Towliati, and Pasha. Paul described his interrogation by Dadgar in detail. Each of the Iranians was highly interested in any mention of his own name during the interrogation. Paul told Dr. Towliati how his name had come up, in connection with a suggested conflict of interest. Towliati described how he, too, had been questioned by Dadgar in the same way before being thrown in jail. Paul recollected that Dadgar had asked about a memorandum written by Pasha. It had been a completely routine request for statistics, and nobody could figure out what was supposed to be special about it.
Neghabat had a theory as to why they were all in jail. "The Shah is making scapegoats of us, to show the masses that he really is cracking down on corruption--but he picked a project where there was no corruption. There is nothing to crack down on--but if he releases us, he will look weak. If he had looked instead at the construction business, he would have found an unbelievable amount of corruption...."
It was all very vague. Neghabat was just rationalizing. Paul and Bill wanted specifics: who ordered the crackdown, why pick on the Ministry of Health, what kind of corruption was supposed to have taken place, and where were the informants who had put the finger on the individuals who were now in jail? Neghabat was not being evasive--he simply had no answers. His vagueness was characteristically Persian: ask an Iranian what he had for breakfast and ten seconds later he would be explaining his philosophy of life.
At six o'clock they returned to their cell for supper. It was pretty grim--no more than the leftovers from lunch mashed into a dip to be spread on bread, with more tea.
After supper they watched TV. Neghabat translated the news. The Shah had asked an opposition leader, Shahpour Bakhtiar, to form a civilian government, replacing the generals who had ruled Iran since November. Neghabat explained that Shahpour was leader of the Bakhtiar tribe, and that he had always refused to have anything to do with the regime of the Shah. Nevertheless, whether Bakhtiar's government could end the turmoil would depend on the Ayatollah Khomeini.
The Shah had also denied rumors that he was leaving the country.
Bill thought this sounded encouraging. With Bakhtiar as Prime Minister the Shah would remain and ensure stability, but the rebels would at last have a voice in governing their own country.
At ten o'clock the TV went off and the prisoners returned to their cells. The other inmates hung towels and pieces of cloth across their bunks to keep out the light: here, as downstairs, the bulb would shine all night. Neghabat said Paul and Bill could get their visitors to bring in sheets and towels for them.
Bill wrapped himself in the thin gray blanket and settled down to try to sleep. We're here for a while, he thought resignedly; we must make the best of it. Our fate is in the hands of others.
2_____
Their fate was in the hands of Ross Perot, and in the next two days all his high hopes came to nothing.
At first the news had been good. Kissinger had called back on Friday, December 29, to say that Ardeshir Zahedi would get Paul and Bill released. First, though, U.S. Embassy officials had to hold two meetings: one with people from the Ministry of Justice, the other with representatives of the Shah's court.
In Tehran the American Ambassador's deputy, Minister Counselor Charles Naas, was personally setting up those meetings.
In Washington, Henry Precht at the State Department was also talking to Ardeshir Zahedi. Emily Gaylord's brother-in-law, Tim Reardon, had spoken to Senator Kennedy. Admiral Moorer was working his contacts with the Iranian military government. The only disappointment in Washington had been Richard Helms, the former U.S. Ambassador to Tehran: he had said candidly that his old friends no longer had any influence.
EDS consulted three separate Iranian lawyers. One was an American who specialized in representing U.S. corporations in Tehran. The other two were Iranians: one had good contacts in pro-Shah circles, the other was close to the dissidents. All three had agreed that the way Paul and Bill had been jailed was highly irregular and that the bail was astronomical. The American, John Westberg, had said that the highest bail he had ever heard of in Iran was a hundred thousand dollars. The implication was that the magistrate who had
jailed Paul and Bill was on weak ground.
Here in Dallas, EDS's chief financial officer Tom Walter, the slow-talking Alabaman, was working on how EDS might--if necessary--go about posting bail of $12,750,000. The lawyers had advised him that bail could be in one of three forms: cash; a letter of credit drawn on an Iranian bank; or a lien on property in Iran. EDS had no property worth that much in Tehran--the computers actually belonged to the Ministry--and with the Iranian banks on strike and the country in turmoil, it was not possible to send in thirteen million dollars in cash; so Walter was organizing a letter of credit. T. J. Marquez, whose job it was to represent EDS to the investment community, had warned Perot that it might not be legal for a public company to pay that much money in what amounted to ransom. Perot deftly sidestepped that problem: he would pay the money personally.
Perot had been optimistic that he would get Paul and Bill out of jail in one of the three ways--legal pressure, political pressure, or by paying the bail.
Then the bad news started coming in.
The Iranian lawyers changed their tune. In turn they reported that the case was "political," had "a high political content," and was "a political hot potato." John Westberg, the American, had been asked by his Iranian partners not to handle the case because it would bring the firm into disfavor with powerful people. Evidently Examining Magistrate Hosain Dadgar was not on weak ground.
Lawyer Tom Luce and financial officer Tom Walter had gone to Washington and, accompanied by Admiral Moorer, had visited the State Department. They had expected to sit down around a table with Henry Precht and formulate an aggressive campaign for the release of Paul and Bill. But Henry Precht was cool. He had shaken hands with them--he could hardly do less when they were accompanied by a former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff--but he had not sat down with them. He had handed them over to a subordinate. The subordinate reported that none of the State Department's efforts had achieved anything: neither Ardeshir Zahedi nor Charlie Naas had been able to get Paul and Bill released.
Tom Luce, who did not have the patience of Job, got mad as hell. It was the State Department's job to protect Americans abroad, he said, and so far all State had done was to get Paul and Bill thrown in jail! Not so, he was told: what State had done so far was above and beyond its normal duty. If Americans abroad committed crimes, they were subject to foreign laws: the State Department's duties did not include springing people from jail. But, Luce argued, Paul and Bill had not committed a crime--they were being held hostage for thirteen million dollars! He was wasting his breath. He and Tom Walter returned to Dallas empty-handed.
Late last night Perot had called the U.S. Embassy in Tehran and asked Charles Naas why he still had not met with the officials named by Kissinger and Zahedi. The answer was simple: those officials were making themselves unavailable to Naas.
Today Perot had called Kissinger again and reported this. Kissinger was sorry: he did not think there was anything more he could do. However, he would call Zahedi and try again.
One more piece of bad news completed the picture. Tom Walter had been trying to establish, with the Iranian lawyers, the conditions under which Paul and Bill might be released on bail: for example, would they have to promise to return to Iran for further questioning if required, or could they be interrogated outside the country? Neither, he was told: If they were released from prison they still would not be able to leave Iran.
Now it was New Year's Eve. For three days Perot had been living at the office, sleeping on the floor and eating cheese sandwiches. There was nobody to go home to--Margot and the children were still in Vail--and, because of the nine-and-a-half-hour time difference between Texas and Iran, important phone calls were often made in the middle of the night. He was leaving the office only to visit his mother, who was now out of the hospital and recuperating at her Dallas home. Even with her, he talked about Paul and Bill--she was keenly interested in the progress of events.
This evening he felt the need of hot food, and he decided to brave the weather--Dallas was suffering an ice storm--and drive a mile or so to a fish restaurant.
He left the building by the back door and got behind the wheel of his station wagon. Margot had a Jaguar, but Perot preferred nondescript cars.
He wondered just how much influence Kissinger had now, in Iran or anywhere. Zahedi and any other Iranian contacts Kissinger had might be like Richard Helms's friends--all out of the mainstream, powerless. The Shah seemed to be hanging on by the skin of his teeth.
On the other hand, that whole group might soon need friends in America, and might welcome the opportunity to do Kissinger a favor.
While he was eating, Perot felt a large hand on his shoulder, and a deep voice said: "Ross, what are you doing here, eating all by yourself on New Year's Eve?"
He turned around to see Roger Staubach, quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys, a fellow Naval Academy graduate and an old friend. "Hi, Roger! Sit down."
"I'm here with the family," Staubach said. "The heat's off in our house on account of the ice storm."
"Well, bring them over."
Staubach beckoned to his family, then said: "How's Margot?"
"Fine, thank you. She's skiing with the children in Vail. I had to come back--we've got a big problem." He proceeded to tell the Staubach family all about Paul and Bill.
He drove back to the office in good spirits. There were still a bunch of good people in the world.
He thought again of Colonel Simons. Of all the schemes he had for getting Paul and Bill out, the jailbreak was the one with the longest lead time: Simons would need a team of men, a training period, equipment ... And yet Perot still had not done anything about it. It had seemed such a distant possibility, a last resort: while negotiations had seemed promising he had blocked it out of his mind. He was still not ready to call Simons--he would wait for Kissinger to have one more try with Zahedi--but perhaps there was something he could do to prepare for Simons.
Back at EDS he found Pat Sculley. Sculley, a West Point graduate, was a thin, boyish, restless man of thirty-one. He had been a project manager in Tehran and had come out with the December 8 evacuation. He had returned after Ashura, then come out again when Paul and Bill were arrested. His job at the moment was to make sure that the Americans remaining in Tehran--Lloyd Briggs, Rich Gallagher and his wife, Paul and Bill--had reservations on a flight out every day, just in case the prisoners should be released.
With Sculley was Jay Coburn, who had organized the evacuation, and then, on December 22, had come home to spend Christmas with his family. Coburn had been about to go back to Tehran when he got the news that Paul and Bill had been arrested, so he had stayed in Dallas and organized the second evacuation. A placid, stocky man, Coburn was thirty-two but looked forty: the reason, Perot believed, was that Coburn had lived eight years in one as a combat helicopter pilot in Vietnam. For all that, Coburn smiled a lot--a slow smile that began as a twinkle in his eye and often ended in a shoulder-shaking belly laugh.
Perot liked and trusted both men. They were what he called eagles: high-fliers, who used their initiative, got the job done, gave him results not excuses. The motto of EDS's recruiters was: Eagles Don't Flock--You Have to Find Them One at a Time. One of the secrets of Perot's business success was his policy of going looking for men like this, rather than waiting and hoping they would apply for a job.
Perot said to Sculley: "Do you think we're doing everything we need to do for Paul and Bill?"
Sculley responded without hesitation. "No, I don't."
Perot nodded. These young men were never afraid to speak out to the boss: that was one of the things that made them eagles. "What do you think we ought to do?"
"We ought to break them out," Sculley said. "I know it sounds strange, but I really think that if we don't, they have a good chance of getting killed in there."
Perot did not think it sounded strange: that fear had been at the back of his mind for three days. "I'm thinking of the same thing." He saw surprise on Sculley's face.
"I want you two to put together a list of EDS people who could help do it. We'll need men who know Tehran, have some military experience--preferably in Special Forces--type action--and are one hundred percent trustworthy and loyal."
"We'll get on it right away," Sculley said enthusiastically.
The phone rang and Coburn picked it up. "Hi, Keane! Where are you? ... Hold on a minute."
Coburn covered the mouthpiece with his hand and looked at Perot. "Keane Taylor is in Frankfurt. If we're going to do something like this, he ought to be on the team."
Perot nodded. Taylor, a former marine sergeant, was another of his eagles. Six foot two and elegantly dressed, Taylor was a somewhat irritable man, which made him the ideal butt for practical jokes. Perot said: "Tell him to go back to Tehran. But don't explain why."
A slow smile spread across Coburn's young-old face. "He ain't gonna like it."
Sculley reached across the desk and switched on the speaker so they could all hear Taylor blow his cool.
Coburn said: "Keane, Ross wants you to go back to Iran."
"What the hell for?" Taylor demanded.
Coburn looked at Perot. Perot shook his head. Coburn said: "Uh, there's a lot we need to do, in terms of tidying up, administratively speaking--"
"You tell Perot I'm not going back in there for any administrative bullshit!"
Sculley started to laugh.
Coburn said: "Keane, I have somebody else here who wants to talk to you."
Perot said: "Keane, this is Ross."
"Oh. Uh, hello, Ross."
"I'm sending you back to do something very important."
"Oh."
"Do you understand what I'm saying?"
There was a long pause, then Taylor said: "Yes, sir."