On Wings of Eagles (14 page)

I'lien the bad news started coming in.

    Ile 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 crimethey were being held

    hostage for thirteen million dollars! He was

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 83

wasting his breath. He and Tom Walter returned to Dallas emptyhanded-

    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: If they

    were released from prison they still would not be able to leave Iran.

    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-halfhour 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,

84 Ken Follett

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.

    He drove back to the office in good spirits. There were still a bunch of

    good people in the world.

    He thought again of Colonel Simons. Of all the schemes he had for getting

    Paul and Bill out, the jailbreak was the one with the longest lead time:

    Simons would need a team of men, a training period, equipment ... And yet

    Perot still had not done anything about it. It had seemed such a distant

    possibility, a last resort: while negotiations had seemed promising he had

    blocked it out of his mind. He was still not ready to call Simons-he would

    wait for Kissinger to have one more try with Zahedi--but perhaps there was

    something he could do to prepare for Simons.

    Back at EDS he found Pat Sculley. Sculley, a West Point graduate, was a

    thin, boyish, restless man of thirty-one. He had been a project manager in

    Tehran and had come out with the December 8 evacuation. He had returned

    after Ashura, then come out again when Paul and Bill were arrested. His job

    at the moment was to make sure that the Americans remaining in Tehran-Lloyd

    Briggs, Rich Gallagher and his wife, Paul and Bill--had reservations on a

    flight out every day, just in case the prisoners should be released.

    With Sculley was Jay Coburn, who had organized the evacuation, and then, on

    December 22, had come home to spend Christmas with his family. Coburn had

    been about to go back to Tehran when he got the news that Paul and Bill had

    been arrested, so he had stayed in Dallas and organized the second

    evacuation. A placid, stocky man, Coburn was thirty-two but looked forty:

    the reason, Perot believed, was that Coburn had lived eight years in one as

    a combat helicopter pilot in Vietnam. For all that, Coburn smiled a lot-a

    slow smile that began as a

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 85

twinkle in his eye and often ended in a shoulder-shaking belly laugh.

    Perot liked and trusted both men. They were what he called eagles:

    high-fliers, who used their initiative, got the job done, gave him results

    not excuses. The mono of EDS's recruiters was: Eagles Don't Flock-You Have

    to Find Them One at a Time. One of the secrets of Perot's business success

    was his policy of going looking for men like this, rather than waiting and

    hoping they would apply for a job.

    Perot said to Sculley: "Do you think we're doing everything we need to do

    for Paul and Bill?"

Sculley responded without hesitation. "No, I don't."

    Perot nodded. These young men were never afraid to speak out to the boss:

    that was one of the things that made them eagles. "What do you think we

    ought to do?"

    "We ought to break them out," Sculley said. "I know it sounds strange, but

    I really think that if we don't, they have a good chance of getting killed

    in there."

    Perot did not think it sounded strange: that fear had been at the back of

    his mind for three days. "I'm thinking of the same thing." He saw surprise

    on Sculley's face. "I want you two to put together a list of EDS people who

    could help do it. We'll need men who know Tehran, have some military

    experience-preferably in Special Forces-type action-md are one hundred

    percent trustworthy and loyal. "

"We'll get on it right away," Sculley said enthusiastically.

    The phone rang and Coburn picked it up. "Hi, Keane! Where are you? ... Hold

    on a minute."

    Coburn covered the mouthpiece with his hand and looked at Perot. "Keane

    Taylor is in Frankfurt. If we're going to do something like this, he ought

    to be on the team."

    Perot nodded. Taylor, a former marine sergeant, was another of his eagles.

    Six foot two and elegantly dressed, Taylor was a somewhat irritable man,

    which made him the ideal butt for practical jokes. Perot said: "Tell him to

    go back to Tehran. But don't explain why."

    A slow smile spread across Coburn's young-old face. "He ain't gonna like

    it. "

    Sculley reached across the desk and switched on the speaker so they could

    all hear Taylor blow his cool.

Coburn said: "Keane, Ross wants you to go back to Iran."

"What the hell for?" Taylor demanded.

86 Ken Folleu

    Coburn looked at Perot. Perot shook his head. Coburn said: "Uh, there's a

    lot we need to do, in terms of tidying up, administratively speaking-"

    "You tell Perot I'm not going back in there for any administrative

    bullshit!"

Sculley started to laugh.

    Coburn said: "Keane, I have somebody else here who wants to talk to you."

Perot said: "Keane, this is Ross."

"Oh. Uh, hello, Ross."

"I'm sending you back to do something very important.

"Oh. "

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

There was a long pause, then Taylor said: "Yes, sir. Good. "

"I'm on my way."

"What time is it there?" Perot asked.

"Seven o'clock in the morning. "

Perot looked at his own watch. It said midnight,

Nineteen Seventy-nine had begun.

Taylor sat on the edge of the bed in his Frankfurt hotel room, thinking

about his wife.

    Mary was in Pittsburgh with the children, Mike and Dawn, staying at

    Taylor's brother's house. Taylor had called her from Tehran before leaving

    and told her he was coming home. She had been very happy to hear it. They

    had made plans for the future: they would return to Dallas, put the kids in

    school ...

    Now he had to call and tell her he would not be coming home after all.

She would be worried.

Hell, he was worried.

    He thought about Tehran. He had not worked on the Ministry of Health

    project, but had been in charge of a smaller contract, to computerize the

    old-fashioned manual bookkeeping systems of Bank Omran. One day about three

    weeks ago, a mob had formed outside the bank-On-iran was the Shah's bank.

    Taylor had sent his people home. He and Glenn Jackson were the last to

    leave. They locked up the building and started walking north. As they

    turned the comer onto the main street, they walked into the mob. At that

    moment-die army opened fire and charged down the street.

    ON WINGS OF EAGLES 87

    Taylor and Jackson ducked into a doorway. Someone opened the door and

    yelled at them to get inside. They did-but before their rescuer could lock

    it again, four of the demonstrators forced their way in, chased by five

    soldiers.

    Taylor and Jackson flattened themselves against the wall and watched the

    soldiers, with their truncheons and rifles, beat up the demonstrators. One

    of the rebels made a break for it. Two of his fingers were almost torn off

    his hand, and blood spurted all over the glass door. He got out but

    collapsed in the street. The soldiers dragged the other three demonstrators

    out. One was a bloody mess but conscious: the other two were out cold, or

    dead.

    Taylor and Jackson stayed inside until the street was clear. The Iranian

    who had saved them kept saying: "Get out while you can."

    And now, Taylor thought, I have to tell Mary that I've just agreed to go

    back into all that.

To do something very important.

    Obviously it had to do with Paul and Bill; and if Perot could not talk

    about it on the phone, presumably it was something at least clandestine and

    quite possibly illegal.

    In a way Taylor was glad, despite his fear of the mobs. VAlile still in

    Tehran he had talked on the phone with Bill's wife, Emily Gaylord, and had

    promised not to leave without Bill. The orders from Dallas, that everyone

    but Briggs and Gallagher had to get out, had forced him to break his word.

    Now the orders had changed, and perhaps he could keep his promise to Emily

    after all.

    Well, he thought, I can't walk back, so I'd better find a plane. He picked

    up the phone again.

Jay Coburn remembered the first time he had seen Ross Perot in action. He

would never forget it as long as he lived.