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:
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.
