On Wings of Eagles Read online

  "Oh, shit," Coburn said.

  One of the soldiers was still loading his gun. He was trying to put the clip in backward, and it would not fit. He dropped it and went down on one knee, scrabbling around on the ground looking for it. Coburn would have laughed if he had not been scared.

  An officer yelled at Coburn in Farsi. Coburn lowered the window. He showed the officer his wristwatch and said: "It's after five."

  The soldiers had a conference. The officer came back and asked Coburn for his identification.

  Coburn waited anxiously. This would be the worst possible day to get arrested. Would the officer believe that Coburn's watch was right and his was wrong?

  At last the soldiers got out of the road and the officer waved Coburn on.

  Coburn breathed a sigh of relief and drove slowly on.

  Iran was like that.

  2_____

  Coburn's logistics group went to work making plane reservations, chartering buses to take people to the airport, and photocopying handout leaflets. At ten A.M. Coburn got the team leaders into Bucharest and started them calling the evacuees.

  He got reservations for most of them on a Pan Am flight to Istanbul on Friday, December 8. The remainder--including Liz Coburn and the four children--would get a Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt that same day.

  As soon as the reservations were confirmed, two top executives at EDS headquarters, Merv Stauffer and T. J. Marquez, left Dallas for Istanbul to meet the evacuees, shepherd them to hotels, and organize the next stage of their flight back home.

  During the day there was a small change in plan. Paul was still reluctant to abandon his work in Iran. He proposed that a skeleton staff of about ten senior men stay behind, to keep the office ticking over, in the hope that Iran would quiet down and EDS would eventually be able to resume working normally. Dallas agreed. Among those who volunteered to stay were Paul himself, his deputy Bill Gaylord, Jay Coburn, and most of Coburn's evacuation logistics group. Two people who stayed behind reluctantly were Carl and Vicki Commons: Vicki was nine months pregnant and would leave after her baby was born.

  On Friday morning Coburn's team, their pockets full of ten-thousand-rial (about $140) notes for bribes, virtually took over a section of Mehrabad Airport in western Tehran. Coburn had people writing tickets behind the Pan Am counter, people at passport control, people in the departure lounge, and people running baggage-handling equipment. The plane was overbooked: bribes ensured that no one from EDS was bumped off the flight.

  There were two especially tense moments. An EDS wife with an Australian passport had been unable to get an exit visa because the Iranian government offices that issued exit visas were all on strike. (Her husband and children had American passports and therefore did not need exit visas.) When the husband reached the passport-control desk, he handed over his passport and his children's in a stack with six or seven other passports. As the guard tried to sort them out, EDS people in the queue behind began to push forward and cause a commotion. Some of Coburn's team gathered around the desk asking loud questions and pretending to get angry about the delay. In the confusion the woman with the Australian passport walked through the departure lounge without being stopped.

  Another EDS family had adopted an Iranian baby and had not yet been able to get a passport for the child. Only a few months old, the baby would fall asleep, lying face-down, on its mother's forearm. Another EDS wife, Kathy Marketos--of whom it was said that she would try anything once--put the sleeping baby on her own forearm, draped her raincoat over it, and carried it onto the plane.

  However, it was many hours before anyone got on a plane. Both flights were delayed. There was no food to be bought at the airport and the evacuees were famished, so just before curfew some of Coburn's team drove around the city buying anything edible they could find. They purchased the entire contents of several kuche stalls--street-corner stands that sold candy, fruit, and cigarettes--and they went into a Kentucky Fried Chicken and did a deal for its stock of bread rolls. Back at the airport, passing food out to EDS people in the departure lounge, they were almost mobbed by the other hungry passengers waiting for the same flights. On the way back downtown two of the team were caught and arrested for being out after curfew--but the soldier who stopped them got distracted by another car, which tried to escape, and the EDS men drove off while he was shooting the other way.

  The Istanbul flight left just after midnight. The Frankfurt flight took off the next day, thirty-one hours late.

  Coburn and most of the team spent the night at Bucharest. They had no one to go home to.

  While Coburn was running the evacuation, Paul had been trying to find out who wanted to confiscate his passport and why.

  His administrative assistant, Rich Gallagher, was a young American who was good at dealing with the Iranian bureaucracy. Gallagher was one of those who had volunteered to stay in Tehran. His wife, Cathy, had also stayed behind. She had a good job with the U.S. military in Tehran. The Gallaghers did not want to leave. Furthermore, they had no children to worry about--just a poodle called Buffy.

  The day Fara was asked to take the passports--December 5--Gallagher visited the U.S. Embassy with one of the people whose passports had been demanded: Paul Bucha, who no longer worked in Iran but happened to be in town on a visit.

  They met with Consul General Lou Goelz. Goelz, an experienced consul in his fifties, was a portly, balding man with a fringe of white hair: he would have made a good Santa Claus. With Goelz was an Iranian member of the consular staff, Ali Jordan.

  Goelz advised Bucha to catch his plane. Fara had told the police--in all innocence--that Bucha was not in Iran, and they had appeared to believe her. There was every chance that Bucha could sneak out.

  Goelz also offered to hold the passports and residence permits of Paul and Bill for safekeeping. That way, if the police made a formal demand for the documents, EDS would be able to refer them to the Embassy.

  Meanwhile, Ali Jordan would contact the police and try to find out what the hell was going on.

  Later that day the passports and papers were delivered to the Embassy.

  The next morning Bucha caught his plane and got out. Gallagher called the Embassy. Ali Jordan had talked to General Biglari of the Tehran Police Department. Biglari had said that Paul and Bill were being detained in the country and would be arrested if they tried to leave.

  Gallagher asked why.

  They were being held as "material witnesses in an investigation," Jordan understood.

  "What investigation?"

  Jordan did not know.

  Paul was puzzled, as well as anxious, when Gallagher reported all this. He had not been involved in a road accident, had not witnessed a crime, had no connections with the CIA ... Who or what was being investigated? EDS? Or was the investigation just an excuse for keeping Paul and Bill in Iran so that they would continue to run the social-security system's computers?

  The police had made one concession. Ali Jordan had argued that the police were entitled to confiscate the residence permits, which were the property of the Iranian government, but not the passports, which were U.S. government property. General Biglari had conceded this.

  The next day Gallagher and Ali Jordan went to the police station to hand the documents over to Biglari. On the way Gallagher asked Jordan whether he thought there was a chance Paul and Bill would be accused of wrongdoing.

  "I doubt that very much," said Jordan.

  At the police station the general warned Jordan that the Embassy would be held responsible if Paul and Bill left the country by any means--such as a U.S. military aircraft.

  The following day--December 8, the day of the evacuation--Lou Goelz called EDS. He had found out, through a "source" at the Iranian Ministry of Justice, that the investigation in which Paul and Bill were supposed to be material witnesses was an investigation into corruption charges against the jailed Minister of Health, Dr. Sheikholeslamizadeh.

  It was something of a relief to Paul to know, at l
ast, what the whole thing was about. He could happily tell the investigators the truth: EDS had paid no bribes. He doubted whether anyone had bribed the Minister. Iranian bureaucrats were notoriously corrupt, but Dr. Sheik--as Paul called him for short--seemed to come from a different mold. An orthopedic surgeon by training, he had a perceptive mind and an impressive ability to master detail. In the Ministry of Health he had surrounded himself with a group of progressive young technocrats who found ways to cut through red tape and get things done. The EDS project was only part of his ambitious plan to bring Iranian health and welfare services up to American standards. Paul did not think Dr. Sheik was lining his own pockets at the same time.

  Paul had nothing to fear--if Goelz's "source" was telling the truth. But was he? Dr. Sheik had been arrested three months ago. Was it a coincidence that the Iranians had suddenly realized that Paul and Bill were material witnesses when Paul told them that EDS would leave Iran unless the Ministry paid its bills?

  After the evacuation the remaining EDS men moved into two houses and stayed there, playing poker, during December 10 and 11, the holy days of Ashura. There was a high-stakes house and a low-stakes house. Both Paul and Coburn were at the high-stakes house. For protection they invited Coburn's "spooks"--his two contacts in military intelligence--who carried guns. No weapons were allowed at the poker table, so the spooks had to leave their firearms in the hall.

  Contrary to expectations, Ashura passed relatively peacefully: millions of Iranians attended anti-Shah demonstrations all over the country, but there was little violence.

  After Ashura, Paul and Bill again considered skipping the country, but they were in for a shock. As a preliminary they asked Lou Goelz at the Embassy to give them back their passports. Goelz said that if he did that he would be obliged to inform General Biglari. That would amount to a warning to the police that Paul and Bill were trying to sneak out.

  Goelz insisted that he had told EDS, when he took the passports, that this was his deal with the police; but he must have said it rather quietly, because no one could remember it.

  Paul was furious. Why had Goelz had to make any kind of deal with the police? He was under no obligation to tell them what he did with an American passport. It was not his job to help the police detain Paul and Bill in Iran, for God's sake! The Embassy was there to help Americans, wasn't it?

  Couldn't Goelz renege on his stupid agreement, and return the passports quietly, perhaps informing the police a couple of days later, when Paul and Bill were safely home? Absolutely not, said Goelz. If he quarreled with the police they would make trouble for everyone else, and Goelz had to worry about the other twelve thousand Americans still in Iran. Besides, the names of Paul and Bill were now on the "stop list" held by the airport police: even with all their documents in order they would never get through passport control.

  When the news that Paul and Bill were well and truly stuck in Iran reached Dallas, EDS and its lawyers went into high gear. Their Washington contacts were not as good as they would have been under a Republican administration, but they still had some friends. They talked to Bob Strauss, a high-powered White House troubleshooter who happened to be a Texan; Admiral Tom Moorer, a former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who knew many of the generals now running Iran's military government; and Richard Helms, past Director of the CIA and a former U.S. Ambassador to Iran. As a result of the pressure they put on the State Department, the U.S. Ambassador in Tehran, William Sullivan, raised the case of Paul and Bill in a meeting with the Iranian Prime Minister, General Azhari.

  None of this brought any results.

  The thirty days that Paul had given the Iranians to pay their bill ran out, and on December 16 he wrote to Dr. Emrani formally terminating the contract. But he had not given up. He asked a handful of evacuated executives to come back to Tehran, as a sign of EDS's willingness to try to resolve its problems with the Ministry. Some of the returning executives, encouraged by the peaceful Ashura, even brought their families back.

  Neither the Embassy nor EDS's lawyers in Tehran had been able to find out who had ordered Paul and Bill detained. It was Majid, Fara's father, who eventually got the information out of General Biglari. The investigator was Examining Magistrate Hosain Dadgar, a midlevel functionary within the office of the public prosecutor, in a department that dealt with crimes by civil servants and had very broad powers. Dadgar was conducting the inquiry into Dr. Sheik, the jailed former Minister of Health.

  Since the Embassy could not persuade the Iranians to let Paul and Bill leave the country, and would not give back their passports quietly, could they at least arrange for this Dadgar to question Paul and Bill as soon as possible so that they could go home for Christmas? Christmas did not mean much to the Iranians, said Goelz, but New Year did, so he would try to fix a meeting before then.

  During the second half of December the rioting started again (and the first thing the returning executives did was plan for a second evacuation). The general strike continued, and petroleum exports--the government's most important source of income--ground to a halt, reducing to zero EDS's chances of getting paid. So few Iranians turned up for work at the Ministry that there was nothing for the EDS men to do, and Paul sent half of them home to the States for Christmas.

  Paul packed his bags, closed up his house, and moved into the Hilton, ready to go home at the first opportunity.

  The city was thick with rumors. Jay Coburn fished up most of them in his net and brought the interesting ones to Paul. One more disquieting than most came from Bunny Fleischaker, an American girl with friends at the Ministry of Justice. Bunny had worked for EDS in the States, and she kept in touch here in Tehran although she was no longer with the company. She called Coburn to say that the Ministry of Justice planned to arrest Paul and Bill.

  Paul discussed this with Coburn. It contradicted what they were hearing from the U.S. Embassy. The Embassy's advice was surely better than Bunny Fleischaker's, they agreed. They decided to take no action.

  Paul spent Christmas Day quietly, with a few colleagues, at the home of Pat Sculley, a young EDS manager who had volunteered to return to Tehran. Sculley's wife, Mary, had also come back, and she cooked Christmas dinner. Paul missed Ruthie and the children.

  Two days after Christmas the Embassy called. They had succeeded in setting up a meeting for Paul and Bill with Examining Magistrate Hosain Dadgar. The meeting was to take place the following morning, December 28, at the Ministry of Health building on Eisenhower Avenue.

  Bill Gaylord came into Paul's office a little after nine, carrying a cup of coffee, dressed in the EDS uniform: business suit, white shirt, quiet tie, black brogue shoes.

  Like Paul, Bill was thirty-nine, of middle height, and stocky; but there the resemblance ended. Paul had dark coloring, heavy eyebrows, deep-set eyes, and a big nose: in casual clothes he was often mistaken for an Iranian until he opened his mouth and spoke English with a New York accent. Bill had a flat, round face and very white skin: nobody would take him for anything but an Anglo.

  They had a lot in common. Both were Roman Catholic, although Bill was more devout. They loved good food. Both had trained as systems engineers and joined EDS in the mid-sixties, Bill in 1965 and Paul in 1966. Both had had splendid careers with EDS, but although Paul had joined a year later he was now senior to Bill. Bill knew the health-care business inside out, and he was a first-class "people manager," but he was not as pushy and dynamic as Paul. Bill was a deep thinker and a careful organizer. Paul would never have to worry about Bill making an important presentation: Bill would have prepared every word.

  They worked together well. When Paul was hasty, Bill would make him pause and reflect. When Bill wanted to plan his way around every bump in the road, Paul would tell him just to get in and drive.

  They had been acquainted in the States but had got to know one another well in the last nine months. When Bill had arrived in Tehran, last March, he had lived at the Chiapparones' house until his wife, Emily, and the children came over
. Paul felt almost protective toward him: it was a shame that Bill had had nothing but problems here in Iran.

  Bill was much more worried by the rioting and the shooting than most of the others--perhaps because he had not been here long, perhaps because he was more of a worrier by nature. He also took the passport problem more seriously than Paul. At one time he had even suggested that the two of them take a train to the northeast of Iran and cross the border into Russia, on the grounds that nobody would expect American businessmen to escape via the Soviet Union.

  Bill also missed Emily and the children badly, and Paul felt somewhat responsible, because he had asked Bill to come to Iran.

  Still, it was almost over. Today they would see Mr. Dadgar and get their passports back. Bill had a reservation on a plane out tomorrow. Emily was planning a welcome-home party for him on New Year's Eve. Soon all this would seem like a bad dream.

  Paul smiled at Bill. "Ready to go?"

  "Any time."

  "Let's get Abolhasan." Paul picked up the phone. Abolhasan was the most senior Iranian employee, and advised Paul on Iranian business methods. The son of a distinguished lawyer, he was married to an American woman, and spoke very good English. One of his jobs was translating EDS's contracts into Farsi. Today he would translate for Paul and Bill at their meeting with Dadgar.

  He came immediately to Paul's office and the three men left. They did not take a lawyer with them. According to the Embassy this meeting would be routine, the questioning informal. To take lawyers along would not only be pointless, but might antagonize Mr. Dadgar and lead him to suspect that Paul and Bill had something to hide. Paul would have liked to have a member of the Embassy staff present, but this idea also had been turned down by Lou Goelz: it was not normal procedure to send Embassy representatives to a meeting such as this. However, Goelz had advised Paul and Bill to take with them documents establishing when they had come to Iran, what their official positions were, and the scope of their responsibilities.

  As the car negotiated its way through the usual insane Tehran traffic, Paul felt depressed. He was glad to be going home, but he hated to admit failure. He had come to Iran to build up EDS's business here, and he found himself dismantling it. Whatever way you looked at it the company's first overseas venture had been a failure. It was not Paul's fault that the government of Iran had run out of money, but that was small consolation: excuses did not make profits.