back on a pragmatic argument: the Iranian people had had enough of the Shah, and they were going to get rid of him regardless of what Washington thought.
Rubbish, said Brzezinski. Read history. Revolutions succeed when rulers make concessions, and fail when those in power crush the rebels with an iron fist. The Iranian Army, four hundred thousand strong, can easily put down any revolt.
The Vance faction--including Henry Precht--did not agree with the Brzezinski Theory of Revolutions: threatened tyrants make concessions because the rebels are strong, not the other way around, they said. More importantly, they did not believe that the Iranian Army was four hundred thousand strong. Figures were hard to get, but soldiers were deserting at a rate that fluctuated around 8 percent per month, and there were whole units that would go over to the revolutionaries intact in the event of all-out civil war.
The two Washington factions were getting their information from different sources. Brzezinski was listening to Ardeshir Zahedi, the Shah's brother-in-law and the most powerful pro-Shah figure in Iran. Vance was listening to Ambassador Sullivan. Sullivan's cables were not as consistent as Washington could have wished--perhaps because the situation in Iran was sometimes confusing--but, since September, the general trend of his reports had been to say that the Shah was doomed.
Brzezinski said Sullivan was running around with his head cut off and could not be trusted. Vance's supporters said that Brzezinski dealt with bad news by shooting the messenger.
The upshot was that the United States did nothing. One time the State Department drafted a cable to Ambassador Sullivan, instructing him to urge the Shah to form a broad-based civilian coalition government: Brzezinski killed the cable. Another time Brzezinski phoned the Shah and assured him that he had the support of President Carter; the Shah asked for a confirming cable; the State Department did not send the cable. In their frustration both sides leaked information to the newspapers, so that the whole world knew that Washington's policy on Iran was paralyzed by infighting.
With all that going on, the last thing Precht needed was a gang of Texans on his tail thinking they were the only people in the world with a problem.
Besides, he knew, he thought, exactly why EDS was in trouble. On asking whether EDS was represented by an agent in Iran, he was told: Yes--Mr. Abolfath Mahvi. That explained everything. Mahvi was a well-known Tehran middleman, nicknamed 'the king of the five percenters' for his dealings in military contracts. Despite his high-level contacts the Shah had put him on a blacklist of people banned from doing business in Iran. This was why EDS was suspected of corruption.
Precht would do what he could. He would get the Embassy in Tehran to look into the case, and perhaps Ambassador Sullivan might be able to put pressure on the Iranians to release Chiapparone and Gaylord. But there was no way the United States government was going to put all other Iranian questions on the back burner. They were attempting to support the existing regime, and this was no time to unbalance that regime further by threatening a break in diplomatic relations over two jailed businessmen, especially when there were another twelve thousand U.S. citizens in Iran, all of whom the State Department was supposed to look after. It was unfortunate, but Chiapparone and Gaylord would just have to sweat it out.
Henry Precht meant well. However, early in his involvement with Paul and Bill, he--like Lou Goelz--made a mistake that at first wrongly colored his attitude to the problem and later made him defensive in all his dealings with EDS. Precht acted as if the investigation in which Paul and Bill were supposed to be witnesses were a legitimate judicial inquiry into allegations of corruption, rather than a barefaced act of blackmail. Goelz, on this assumption, decided to cooperate with General Biglari. Precht, making the same mistake, refused to treat Paul and Bill as criminally kidnapped Americans.
Whether Abolfath Mahvi was corrupt or not, the fact was that he had not made a penny out of EDS's contract with the Ministry. Indeed, EDS had got into trouble in its early days for
It happened like this. Mahvi helped EDS get its first, small contract in Iran, creating a document-control system for the Iranian Navy. EDS, advised that by law they had to have a local partner, promised Mahvi a third of the profit. When the contract was completed, two years later, EDS duly paid Mahvi four hundred thousand dollars.
But while the Ministry contract was being negotiated, Mahvi was on the blacklist. Nevertheless, when the deal was about to be signed, Mahvi--who by this time was off the blacklist again--demanded that the contract be given to a joint company owned by him and EDS.
EDS refused. While Mahvi had earned his share of the navy contract, he had done nothing for the Ministry deal.
Mahvi claimed that EDS's association with him had smoothed the way for the Ministry contract through the twenty-four different government bodies that had to approve it. Furthermore, he said, he had helped obtain a tax ruling favorable to EDS that was written into the contract: EDS only got the ruling because Mahvi had spent time with the Minister of Finance in Monte Carlo.
EDS had not asked for his help, and did not believe that he had given it. Furthermore, Ross Perot did not like the kind of 'help' that takes place in Monte Carlo.
EDS's Iranian attorney complained to the Prime Minister, and Mahvi was carpeted for demanding bribes. Nevertheless, his influence was so great that the Ministry of Health would not sign the contract unless EDS made him happy.
EDS had a series of stormy negotiations with Mahvi. EDS still refused point-blank to share profits with him. In the end there was a face-saving compromise: a joint company, acting as subcontractor to EDS, would recruit and employ all EDS's Iranian staff. In fact, the joint company never made money, but that was later: at the time Mahvi accepted the compromise and the Ministry contract was signed.
So EDS had not paid bribes, and the Iranian government knew it; but Henry Precht did not, nor did Lou Goelz. Consequently their attitude to Paul and Bill was equivocal. Both men spent many hours on the case, but neither gave it top priority. When EDS's combative lawyer Tom Luce talked to them as if they were idle or stupid or both, they became indignant and said they might do better if he would get off their backs.
Precht in Washington and Goelz in Tehran were the crucial, ground-level operatives dealing with the case. Neither of them was idle. Neither was incompetent. But they both made mistakes, they both became somewhat hostile to EDS, and in those vital first few days they both failed to help Paul and Bill.
Three
1_____
A guard opened the cell door, looked around, pointed at Paul and Bill, and beckoned them.
Bill's hopes soared. Now they would be released.
They got up and followed the guard upstairs. It was good to see daylight through the windows. They went out the door and across the courtyard to the little one-story building beside the entrance gate. The fresh air tasted heavenly.
It had been a terrible night. Bill had lain on the thin mattress, dozing fitfully, startled by the slightest movement from the other prisoners, looking around anxiously in the dim light from the all-night bulb. He had known it was morning when a guard came with glasses of tea and rough hunks of bread for breakfast. He had not felt hungry. He had said a rosary.
Now it seemed his prayers were being answered.
Inside the one-story building was a visiting room furnished with simple tables and chairs. Two people were waiting. Bill recognized one of them: it was Ali Jordan, the Iranian who worked with Lou Goelz at the Embassy. He shook hands and introduced his colleague, Bob Sorenson.
'We brought you some stuff,' Jordan said. 'A battery shaver--you'll have to share it--and some dungarees.'
Bill looked at Paul. Paul was staring at the two Embassy men, looking as if he were about to explode. 'Aren't you going to get us out of here?' Paul said.
'I'm afraid we can't do that.'
