"Well, we're obviously not going to bring our people back in here in the
foreseeable future, so I've come to police up everyone's personal
belongings to get them shipped back to the States. "
Taylor shot him a funny look but did not comment. "Where are you going to
stay? We've all moved into the Hyatt Crown Regency, it's safer."
"How about I use your old house?"
"It
'1~%tever YOU say.
"Now, about these belongings. Do you have those envelopes everyone left,
with their house keys and car keys and instructions for disposal of their
household goods?"
"I sure do-I've been referring to them. Everything people don't want
shipped I've been selling-washers and dryers, refrigerators, I'm running
a permanent garage sale here."
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 151
"Can I have the envelopes?"
- Sure. -
"How's the car situation?"
-we've rounded up most of them. I've got them parked at a school, with some
Iranians watching them, if they're not selling them. "
"What about gas?"
"Rich got four fifty-five-gallon drums from the air force and we've got
them full down in the basement. "
"I thought I smelled gas when I came in."
"Don't strike a match down there in the dark, we'll all be blown to hell."
"What do you do about topping up the drums?"
"We use a couple of cars as tankers-a Buick and a Chevy, with big U. S. gas
tanks. Two of our drivers spend all day waiting in gas lines. When they get
filled up, they come back here and we siphon the gas into the drums, then
send the cars back to the filling station. Sometimes you can buy gas from
the front of the line. Grab someone who's just got filled up and offer him
ten times the pump price for the gas in his car. There's a whole economy
grown up around the gas lines."
"What about fuel oil for the houses, for heating?"
"I've got a source, but he charges me ten times the old price. I'm spending
money like a drunken sailor here."
-I'm going to need twelve cars."
"Twelve cars, huh, Jay?"
"That's what I said."
"You'll have room to stash diem, at my house-4t's got a big walled
courtyard. Would you ... for any reason ... like to be able to get the cars
refueled without any of the Iranian employees seeing you?"
"I sure would."
"Just bring an empty car to the Hyatt and I'll swap it for a full one. I I
"How many Iranians do we still have?"
"Ten of the best, plus four drivers."
"I'd like a list of their names."
"Did you know Ross is on his way in?"
"Shit, no!" Coburn was astonished.
"I just got word. He's bringing Bob Young, from Kuwait, to take over this
administrative stuff from me, and John Howell to
152 Ken Follett
work on the legal side. They want me to work with John, on the negotiations
and bail."
"Is that a fact." Coburn wondered what was on Perot's mind. "Okay, I'm
taking off for your place."
"Jay, why don't you tell me what's up?"
"There's nothing I can tell you."
"Screw you, Coburn. I want to know what's going down."
"You got all I'm going to tell you."
"Screw you again. Wait till you see what cars you get-you'll be lucky if
they have steering wheels."
I 'Sorry.
"Jay . .
"Yeah?"
"That's the funniest looking suitcase I've ever seen."
"So it is, so it is."
"I know what you're up to, Coburn.
Coburn sighed. "Let's go for a walk."
They went out into the street, and Coburn told Taylor about the rescue
team.
The next day Coburn and Taylor went to work on hideouts.
Taylor's house, Number 2 Aftab Street, was ideal. Conveniently close to the
Hyatt for switching cars, it was also in the Armenian section of the city,
which might be less hostile to Americans if the rioting got worse. It had
a working phone and a supply of heating oil. The walled courtyard was big
enough to park six cars, and there was a back entrance that could be used
as an escape route if a squad of police came to the front door. And the
landlord did not live on the premises.
Using the street map of Tehran on the wall of Coburn's office -which had,
since the evacuation, been marked with the location of every EDS home in
the city---they picked three more empty houses as alternative hideouts.
During the day, as Taylor got the cars gassed up, Coburn drove them one by
one from Bucharest to the houses, parking three cars at each of the four
locations.
Looking again at his wall map, he tried to recall which of the wives had
worked for the American military, for the families with commissary
privileges always had the best food. He listed eight likely prospects.
Tomorrow he would visit them and pick up canned and dned food and bottled
drinks for the hideouts.
He selected a fifth apartment, but did not visit it. It was to be
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 153
a safe house, a hideout for a serious emergency: no one would go there until
it had to be used.
That evening, alone in Taylor's apartment, he called Dallas and asked for
Merv Stauffer.
Stauffer was cheerful, as always. "Fli, Jay! How are you?" Fine."
"I'm glad you called, because I have a message for you. Got a pencil?"
"Sure do."
"Okay. Honky Keith Goofball Zero Honky Dummy-"
'Merv," Coburn interrupted. Yeah?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Merv?"
"It's the code, Jay. 9 *
"What is Honky Keith Goofball?"
-H for Honky, K for Keith-"
"Merv, H is Hotel, K is Kilo . .
"Ohl" said Stauffer. "Oh, I didn't realize you were supposed to use certain
particular words . - - -
Coburn started to laugh. "Listen," he said. "Get someone to give you the
military alphabet before next time."
Stauffer was laughing at himself. "I sure will," he said. "I guess we'll
have to make do with my own version this time, though."
"Okay, off you go."
Coburn took down the coded message, then-still using the code--he gave
Stauffer his location and phone number. After hanging up, he decoded the
message Stauffer had given.him. .
It was good news. Simons and Joe PocW were arriving in Tehran the next day.
2
By January II-Aw day Coburn arrived in Tehran and Perot flew to London-4)aul
and Bill had been in jail exactly two weeks.
In that time they bad showered once. When the guards learned that there was
hot water, they gave each cell five minutes in the showers. Modesty was
forgotten as the men crowded into the cubicles for the luxury of being warm
and clean for
154 Ken Folleu
a while. They washed not only themselves but all their clothes as well.
After a week the jail had run out of bottled gas for cooking, so the food,
as well as being starchy and short on vegetables, was now cold. Fortunately
they were allowed to supplement the diet with oranges, apples, and nuts
brought in by visitors.
Most evenings the electricity was off for an hour
or two, and then the
prisoners would light candles or flashlights. The jail was full of deputy
ministers, government contractors, and Tehran businessmen. Two members of
the Empress's court were in Cell Number 5 with Paul and Bill. The latest
arrival in their cell was Dr. Siazi, who had worked at the Ministry of
Health under Dr. Sheik as manager of a department called Rehabilitation.
Siazi was a psychiatrist, and he used his knowledge of the human niind to
boost monde among his fellow prisoners. He was forever dreaming up games
and diversions to enliven the dreary routine: he instituted a suppertime
ritual whereby everyone in the cell had to tell a joke before they could
eat. When he learned the amount of Paul's and Bill's bail he assured them
they would have a visit from Farrah Fawcett Majors, whose husband was a
mere Six Million Dollar Man.
Paul developed a curiously strong relationship with the "father" of the
cell, the longest resident, who by tradition was cell boss. A small man in
late middle age, he did what little he could to help the Americans,
encouraging them to eat and bribing the guards for little extras for them.
He knew only a dozen or so words of English, and Paul spoke little Farsi,
but they managed halting conversations. Paul learned that he had been a
promment businessman, owning a construction company and a London hotel.
Paul showed him the photographs that Taylor had brought in of Karen and Ann
Marie, and the old man learned their names. For all Paul knew, he might
have been as guilty as hen of whatever he was accused of; but the concern
and warmth he displayed toward the foreigners was enormously heartening.
Paul was also touched by the bravery of his EDS colleagues in Tehran. Lloyd
Briggs, who had now gone to New York; Rich Gallagher, who had never left;-
and Keane Taylor, who had come back; all risked their lives every time they
drove through the riots to visit the jail. Each of them also faced the
danger that Dadgar might take it into his head to seize them as additional
hostages. Paul was particularly grateful when he heard that Bob Young
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 155
was on his way in, for Bob's wife had a new baby, and this was an especially
bad time for him to put himself in danger.
Paul had at first imagined he was going to be released any minute. Now he
was telling himself he would get out any day.
One of their cellmates had been let out. He was Lucio Randone, an Italian
budder employed by the construction company Condotti d'Acqua. Randone came
back to visit, bringing two very large bars of Italian chocolate, and told
Paul and Bill that he had talked to the Italian Ambassador in Tehran about
them. The Ambassador had promised to see his American counterpart and
reveal the secret of getting people out of jail.
But the biggest source of Paul's optimism was Dr. Ahmad Houman, the
attorney Briggs had retained to replace the Iranian lawyers who had given
bad advice on the bad. Hounian had visited them during their first week in
jail. They had sat in the jail's reception area--not, for some reason, in
the visiting room in the low building across the courtyard-and Paul had
feared that this would inhibit a hank lawyer-client discussion; but Hournan
was not intimidated by the presence of prison guards. "Dadgar is trying to
make a name for himself," he had announced.
Could that be it? An overenthusiastic prosecutor hying to impress his
supenor&--or perhaps the revolutionane&-with his anti-American diligence?
"Dadgar's office is very powerful," Houman went on. "But in this case he is
out on a limb. He did not have cause to arrest you, and the bail is
exorbitant."
Paul began to feel good about Houman. He seemed knowledgeable and
confident. "So what are you going to do?"
My strategy will be to get the bail reduced."
"How?"
"First I will talk to Dadgar. I hope I will be able to make him see how
outrageous the bad is. But if he remains intransigent, I will go to his
superiors in the Ministry of Justice and persuade them to order him to
reduce the bad."
"And how long do you expect that to take?"
..Perhaps a week."
It was taking more than a week, but Houman had made progress. He had come
back to the jail to report that Dadgaes superiors at the Ministry of
Justice had agreed to force Dadgar to back down and reduce the bad to a sum
EDS could pay easily and swiftly out of funds currently in Iran. Exuding
contempt for Dadgar and confidence in himself, he announced triumphantly
156 Ken Follett
that everything would be finalized at a second meeting between Paul and Bill
and Dadgar on January I I -
Sure enough, that day Dadgar came to the jail in the afternoon. He wanted
to see Paul alone first, as he had before. Paul was in fine spirits as the
guard walked him across the courtyard. Dadgar was just an overenthusiastic
prosecutor, he thought, and now he had been slapped down by his superiors
and would have to eat humble pie.
Dadgar was waiting, with the same woman translator beside him. He nodded
curtly, and Paul sat down, thinking: he doesn't look very humble.
Dadgar spoke in Farsi, and Mrs. Nourbash translated: "We are here to
discuss the amount of your bail."
"Good," said Paul.
"Mr. Dadgar has received a letter on this subject from officials at the
Ministry of Health and Social Welfare."
She began to translate the letter.
The Ministry officials were demanding that bail for the two Americans
should be increased to twenty-three million dollarsalmost double--to
compensate for the Ministry's losses since EDS had switched off the
computers.
It dawned on Paul that he was not going to be released today.
The letter was a put-up job. Dadgar had neatly outmaneuvered Dr. Hournan.
This meeting was nothing but a charade.
It made him mad.
To hell with being polite to this bastard, he thought.
When the letter had been read he said: "Now I have something to say, and I
want you to translate every word. Is that clear?"
"Of course," said Mrs. Nourbash.
Paul spoke slowly and clearly. "You have now held me in Jail for fourteen
days. I have not been taken before a court. No charges have been brought
against me. You have yet to produce a single piece of evidence implicating
me in any crime whatsoever. You have not even specified what crime I might
be accused of. Are you proud of Iranian justice?"
To Paul's surprise, ~~.appeal seemed to melt Dadgar's icy gaze a little. "I
am sorry," Dadgar said, "that you have to be the one to pay for the things
your company has done wrong. "
"No, no, no," Paul said. "I am the company. I am the person responsible. If
the company had done wrong, I should be the one to suffer. But we have done
nothing wrong. In fact, we have
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 157
done far in excess of what we were committed to do. EDS got this contract
because we are the only company in the world capable of doing this
job---creating a fully automated welfare system in an underdeveloped
country
of thirty million subsistence farmers. And we have succeeded. Our
data-processing system issues social-security cards. It keeps a register of
deposits at the bank in the Ministry's account. Every morning it produces a
summary of the welfare claims made the previous day. It prints the payroll
for the entire Ministry of Health and Social Welfare. It produces weekly and
monthly financial status reports for the Ministry. Why don't you go to the
Ministry and look at the printouts? No, wait a minute," he said as Dadgar
began to speak, "I haven't finished."
Dadgar shrugged.
Paul went on: "There is readily available proof that EDS has fulfilled its
contract. It is equally easy to establish that the Ministry has not kept
its side of the deal, that is to say, it has not paid us for six months and
currently owes us something in excess of ten million dollars. Now, think
about the Ministry for a moment. Why hasn't it paid EDS? Because it hasn't
got the money. Why not? You and I know it spent its entire budget during
the first seven months of the current year and the government hasn't got
the funds to top it up. There might well be a degree of incompetence in
some departments. What about those people who overspent their budgets?
Maybe they're looking for an excuse--someone to blame for what's gone
wrong-a scapegoat. And isn't it convenient that they have EDS-a capitalist
company, an American company-right in there working with them? In the
current political atmosphere people are eager to hear about the wickedness
of the Americans, quick to believe that we are cheating Iran. But you, Mr.
Dadgar, are supposed to be an officer of the law. You are not supposed to
believe that the Americans are to blame unless there is evidence. You are
supposed to discover the truth, if I have a correct understanding of the
role of an examining magistrate. Isn't it time you asked yourself why
anyone should make false accusations against me and my company? Isn't it
time you started to investigate the goddam Ministry?"
The woman translated the last sentence. Paul studied Dadgar: His expression
had frozen again. He said something in Farsi.
Mrs. Nourbash translated. "He will see the other one now."
Paul stared at her.
158 Ken FoIku
He had wasted his breath, he realized. He might just as well have recited
Follett, Ken - On Wings of Eagles.txt Page 20
