Follett, Ken - On Wings of Eagles.txt

by On Wings of Eagles [lit]

  care about it enough to offer serious concessions. So what did he care

  about?

  Howell thought of Lucio Randone, the former cellmate of Paul and Bill.

  Randone's offer of help had been followed up by EDS manager Paul Bucha, who

  had gone to Italy to talk to Randone's company, Condotti d'Acqua. Bucha

  reported that the company had been building apartment blocks in Tehran when

  their Iranian financiers ran out of money. The company naturally stopped

  building; but many Iramans; had already paid for apartments under

  construction. Given the present atmosphere, it was not surprising that the

  foreigners got blamed, and Randone had been jailed as a scapegoat. The

  company had found a new source of finance and resumed building, and Randone

  had got out of jail at the same time, in a package deal arranged by an

  Iranian lawyer, Ali Azmayesh. Bucha also reported that the Italians kept

  saying: "Remember, Inn will always be Iran, it never changes." He took this

  to be a hint that a bribe was part of the package deal. Howell also knew

  that a traditional channel for paying a bribe was a lawyer's fee: the

  lawyer would do, say, a thousand dollars' worth of work and pay a

  ten-thousand-dollar bribe, then charge his client eleven thousand dollars.

  This hint of corruption in&& Howell nervous, but despite that he had gone

  to see

  188 Ken Follett

  Azmayesh, who had advised him: -EDS does not have a legal problem, it has a

  business problem." If EDS could come to a business arrangement with the

  Ministry of Health, Dadgar would go away. Azmayesh had not mentioned

  bribery.

  All this had started, Howell thought, as a business problem: the customer

  unable to pay, the supplier refusing to go on working. Might a compromise

  be possible, under which EDS would switch on the computers and the Ministry

  would pay at least some money? He decided to ask Dadgar directly.

  "Would it help if EDS were to renegotiate its contract with the Ministry of

  Health?"

  "This might be very helpful," Dadgar answered. "It would not be a legal

  solution to our problem, but it might be a practical solution. Otherwise,

  to waste all the work that has been done in computerizing the Ministry

  would be a pity. "

  Interesting, thought Howell. They want a modem social-security system--or

  their money back. Putting Paul and Bill in jail on thirteen million dollars

  bail was their way of giving EDS those two option&-and no others. We're

  getting straight talk, at last.

  He decided to be blunt. "Of course, it would be out of the question to

  begin negotiations while Chiapparone and Gaylord are still in jail."

  Dadgar replied: "Still, if you commit to good-faith negotiations, the

  Ministry will call me and the charges might be changed, the bad might be

  reduced, and Chiapparone and Gaylord might even be released on their

  personal guarantees."

  Nothing could be plainer than that, Howell thought. EDS had better go see

  the Minister of Health.

  Since the Ministry stopped paying its bills there had been two changes of

  government. Dr. Sheikholeslamizadeh, who was now in jail, had been replaced

  by a general; and then, when Bakhtiar became Prime Munster, the general had

  in turn been replaced by a now Minister of Health. Who, Howell wondered,

  was the new guy; and what was he like?

  "Mr. Young, of the American company EDS, is calling you, Minister," said the

  secretary.

  Dr. Razmara took a deep breath. "Tell hirn that American businessmen may no

  longer pick up the phone and call ministers of the Ionian government and

  expect to talk to us as if we were

  ON WINGS OF EAGLES 189

  their employees," he said. He raised his voice. "Those days are over!' 9

  Then he asked for the EDS file.

  Manuchehr Razmara had been in Paris over Christmas. Frencheducated-he was

  a cardiologist-and married to a Frenchwoman, he considered France his

  second home, and spoke fluent French. He was also a member of the Iranian

  National Medical Council and a friend of Shahpour Bakhtiar, and when

  Bakhtiar had become Prime Minister he had called his friend Razmara, in

  Paris and asked him to come home to be Minister of Health.

  The EDS file was handed to him by Dr. Emrani, the Deputy Minister in chap

  of Social Security. Emrani had survived the two changes of government: he

  had been here when the trouble had stated.

  Razmara read the file with mounting anger. The EDS project was insane. The

  basic contract price was forty-eight million dollars, with escalators

  taking it up to a possible ninety million. Razmara recalled that Iran had

  twelve thousand working doctors to serve a population of thirty-two

  million, and that there were sixty-four thousand villages without tap

  water; and he concluded that whoever had signed the deal with EDS were

  fools or traitors, or both. How could they possibly justify spending

  millions on computers when the people lacked the fundamental necessities of

  public health like clean water? There could only be one explanation: they

  had been bribed.

  Well, they would suffer. Emrain had prepared this dossier for the special

  court that prosecuted corrupt civil servants. Three people were in jail:

  former Minister Dr. Sheikholeslan-iizadeh, and two of his Deputy ministers,

  Reza Neghabat and Nih Arame. That was as it should be. The blame for the

  mess they were in should fall primarily on Iranians. However, the Americans

  were also culpable. American businessmen and their government had

  encouraged the Shah in his mad schemes, and had taken their profits: now

  they must suffer. Furthermore, according to the, file, EDS had been

  spectacularly incompetent: the computers were not yet working, after two

  and a half years, yet the automation pvject had so disrupted Emrani's

  department that the old-fashioned systems were not working either, with the

  result that Emrani could not monitor his department's expenditure. This was

  a principal cause of the Ministry's overspending its budget, the file said.

  Razmara noted that the U.S. Embassy was protesting about

  190 Ken Folleu

  the jailing of the two Americans, Chiapparone and Gaylord, because there was

  no evidence against them. That was typical of the Americans. Of course there

  was no proof- bribes were not paid by check. Ile Embassy was also concerned

  for the safety of the two prisoners. Razmara found this ironic. He was

  concerned for his safety. Each day when he went to the offee he wondered

  whether he would come home alive.

  He closed the file. He had no sympathy for EDS or its jailed executives.

  Even if he had wanted to have them released, he would not have been able

  to, he reflected. The anti-American mood of the people was rising to fever

  pitch. The government of which Razmara was a part, the Bakhtiar regime, had

  been installed by the Shah and was therefore widely suspected of being

  pro-American. With the country in such turmoil, any Minister who concerned

  himself with the welfare of a couple of greedy American capitalist lackeys

  would be sacked if not lynched---and quite rightly. Razmara turned his

 
attention to more important matters.

  The next day his secretary said: "Mr. Young, of the American company EDS,

  is here asking to see you, Minister."

  The arrogance of the Americans was infuriating. Razmara said: "Repeat to

  him the message I gave you yesterday-then give him five minutes to get off

  the premises."

  14

  For Bill, the big problem was time.

  He was different from Paul. For Paul--restless, aggressive, strong-willed,

  ambitiou"e worst of being in jail was the helplessness. Bill was more

  placid by nature: He accepted that there was nothing to do but pray, so he

  prayed. (He did not wear his religion on his sleeve: he did his praying

  late at night, before going to sleep, or early in the morning before the

  others woke up.) What got to Bill was the excruciating slowness with which

  time passed. A day in the real world-a day of solving problems, making

  decisions, taking phone calls, and attending meetings-was no time at all:

  a day in jail was endless. Bill devised a formula for conversion of real

  time to jail time.

  ON WINGS OF EAGLES 191

  Real Time Jail Time

  I second I minute

  I minute I hour

  I hour I day

  1 week I month

  1 month I year

  Time took on this new dimension for Bill after two or three weeks in jail,

  when he realized there was going to be no quick solution to the problem.

  Unlike a convicted criniinal, he had not been sentenced to ninety days or

  five years, so he could gain no cowdort from scratching a calendar on the

  wall as a countdown to freedom. It made no difference how many days had

  passed: his remaining time in jail was indefinite, therefore endless.

  Fhs Persian cellmates did not seem to feel this way. It was a revealing

  cultural contrast: the Americans, trained to get fast results, were

  tortured by suspense; the Iranians were content to wait forfardah,

  tomorrow, next week, sometime, eventuallyjust as they had been in business.

  Nevertheless, as the Shah's grip weakened, Bill thought he saw sips of

  desperation in some of them, and he came to mistrust them. He was careful

  not to tell them who was in town from Dallas or what progress was being

  made in the negotiations for his release: he was afraid that, clutching at

  straws, they would have tried to trade information to the guards.

  He was becoming a well-adjusted jailbird. He learned to ignore dirt and

  bugs, and he got used to cold, starchy, unappetizing food. He learned to

  live within a small, clearly defined personal boundary, the prisoner's

  "turf." He stayed active.

  He found ways to fill the endless days. He read books, taught Paul chess,

  exercised in the hall, talked to the Iranians to get every word of the

  radio and TV news, and prayed. He made a minutely detailed survey of the

  jail, measuring the cells and the corridors and drawing plans and sketches.

  He kept a diary, recording every trivial event of jail life, plus

  everything his visitors told him and all the news. He used initials instead

  of names and sometimes put in invented incidents or altered versions of

  real incidents, so that if the diary were confiscated or read by the

  authorities it would confuse them.

  Like prisoners everywhere, he looked forward to visitors as eagerly as a

  child waiting for Christmas. The EDS people brought decent food, warm

  clothing, new books, and letters from home.

  192 Ken Folleu

  One day Keane Taylor brought a picture of Bill's six-year-old son,

  Christopher, standing in front of the Christmas tree. Seeing his little boy,

  even in a photograph, gave Bill strength: a powerful reminder of what he had

  to hope for, it renewed his resolve to hang on and not despair.

  Bill wrote letters to Emily and gave them to Keane, who would read them to

  her over the phone. Bill had known Keane for ten years, and they were quite

  close--they had lived together after the evacuation. Bill knew that Keane

  was not as insensitive as his reputation would indicate-half of that was an

  act-but still it was embarrassing to write "I love you" knowing that Keane

  would be reading it. Bill got over the embarrassment, because he wanted

  very badly to tell Emily and the children how much he loved them, just in

  case he never got another chance to say it in person. The letters were like

  those written by pilots on the eve of a dangerous mission.

  The most important gift brought by the visitors was news. The all-too-brief

  meetings in the low building across the courtyard were spent discussing the

  various efforts being made to get Paul and Bill out. It seemed to Bill that

  time was the key factor. Sooner or later, one approach or another had to

  work. Unfortunately, as time passed, Iran went downhill. The forces of the

  revolution were gaining momentum. Would EDS get Paul and Bill out before

  the whole country exploded?

  It was increasingly dangerous for the EDS people to come to the south of

  the city, where the jail was. Paul and Bill never knew when the next visit

  would come, or whether there would be a next visit. As four days went by,

  then five, Bin would wonder whether all the others had gone back to the

  United States and left him and Paul belund. Considering that the bad was

  impossibly high, and the streets of Tehran impossibly dangerous, might they

  all give up Paul and Bill as a lost cause? They niight be forced, against

  their wills, to leave in order to save their own fives. Bill recalled the

  American withdrawal from Vietnam, with the last Embassy officials being

  lifted off the roofs by helicopter, and he could imagine the scene repeated

  at the U.S. Embassy in Tehran.

  He was occasionally reassured by a visit from an Embassy official. They,

  too, were taking a risk in coming, but they never brought any hard news

  about government efforts to help Paul and Bill, and Bill came to the

  conclusion that the State Department was inept.

  ON WINGS OF EAGLES 193

  Visits from Dr. Houman, their Iranian attorney, were at first highly

  encouraging; but then Bill realized that in typically Iranian fashion

  Hournan was promising much and producing little. The fiasco of the meeting

  with Dadgar was desperately depressing. It was frightening to see how

  easily Dadgar outmaneuvered Houman, and how determined Dadgar was to keep

  Paul and Bill jailed. Bill had not slept that night.

  When he thought about the bail he found it staggering. No one had ever paid

  that much ransom, anywhere in the world. He recalled news stories about

  American businessmen kidnapped in South America and held for a million or

  two million dollars. (They were usually killed.) Other kidnappings, of

  millionaires, politicians, and celebrities, had involved demands for three

  or four million-never thirteen. No one would pay that much for Paul and

  Bill.

  Besides, even that much money would not buy them the right to leave the

  country. They would probably be kept under house arrest in Tehran-while the

  mobs took over. Bail sometimes seemed more like a trap than a way of

  escape. It was a catch-22.

  The whole experience was a lesson in values. Bill le
arned that he could do

  without his fine house, his cars, fancy food, and clean clothes. It was no

  big deal to be living in a dirty room with bugs crawling across the walls.

  Everything he had in life had been stripped away, and he discovered that

  the only thing he cared about was his family. When you got right down to

  it, that was all that really counted: Emily, Vicki, Jackie, Jenny, and

  Chris.

  Coburn's visit had cheered him a little. Seeing Jay in that big down coat

  and woolen hat, with a growth of red beard on his chin, Bill had guessed

  that he was not in Tehran to work through legal channels. Coburn had spent

  most of the visit with Paul, and if Paul had learned more, he had not

  passed it on to Bill. Bill was content: he would find out as soon as he

  needed to know.

  But the day after Coburn's visit there was bad news. On January 16 the Shah

  left Iran.

  The television set in the hall of the jail was switched on, exceptionally,

  in the afternoon; and Paul and Bill, with all the other prisoners, watched

  the little ceremony in the Imperial Pavilion at Mehrabad Airport. There was

  the Shah, with his wife, three of his four children, his mother-in-law, and

  a crowd of courtiers. There, to see them off, was Prime Minister Shahpour

  194 Ken Folleu

  Bakhtiar, and a crowd of generals. Bakhtiar kissed the Shah's hand, and the

  royal party went out to the airplane.

  The Ministry people in the jail were gloomy: most of them had been friends,

  of one kind or another, with the royal family or its immediate circle. Now

  their patrons were leaving. It meant, at the very least, that they had to

  resign themselves to a long stay in jail. Bill felt that the Shah had taken

  with him the last chance of a pro-American outcome in Iran. Now there would

  be more chaos and confusion, more danger to all Americans in Tehranand less

  chance of a swift release for Paul and Bill.

  Soon after the television showed the Shah's jet rising into the sky, Bill

  began to hear a background noise, like a distant crowd, from outside the

  jail. The noise quickly grew to a pandemonium of shouting and cheering and

  hooting of homs. The TV showed the source of the noise: a crowd of hundreds