Read On Wings of Eagles Online
Authors: Ken Follett
Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Military, #Espionage, #General, #History, #Special Forces, #Biography & Autobiography
role could appear irregular. However, it was easily explained. "In our
contract we undertake to supply expert consultants to help the Ministry
make the best use of the service we provide. Dr. Towliati is such a
consultant. He has a dataprocessing background, and he is familiar with
both Iranian and American business methods. He is paid by EDS, rather than
by the Ministry, because Ministry salaries are too low to attract a
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 37
man of his caliber. However, the Ministry is obliged to reimburse us for his
salary, as laid down in the contract; so he is not really paid by us."
Once again Dadgar wrote down very little. He could have got all this
information from the files, Paul thoughiq. perhaps he has.
Dadgar asked: "But why does Dr. Towliati sign invoices?"
"That's easy," Paul replied. "He does not, and never has. The closest he
comes is this: he would inform the Minister that a certain task has been
completed, where the specification of that task is too technical for
verification by a layman." Paul smiled. "He takes his responsibility to the
Ministry very seriously-4ie is easily our harshest critic, and he will
characteristically ask a lot of tough questions before verifying completion
of a task. I sometimes wish I did have him in my pocket."
Mrs. Nourbash translated. Paul was thinking: What is Dadgar after? First he
asks about the contract negotiations, which happened before my time; then
about the Mahvi group and Dr. Towliati, as if they were sensationally
important. Maybe Dadgar himself doesn't know what he's looking for-maybe
he's just fishing, hoping to come up with evidence of something illegal.
How long can this farce go on?
Bill was outside in the corridor, wearing his topcoat to keep out the cold.
Someone had brought him a glass of tea, and he warmed his hands on it while
he sipped. The building was dark as well as cold.
Dadgar had immediately struck Bill as being different from the average
Iranian. He was cold, gruff, and inhospitable. The Embassy had said Dadgar
was "favorably disposed" toward Bill and Paul, but that was not the
impression Bill had.
Bill wondered what game Dadgar was playing. Was he trying to intimidate
them, or was he seriously considering arresting them? Either way, the
meeting was not turning out the way the Embassy had anticipated. Their
advice, to come without lawyers or Embassy representatives, now looked
mistaken: perhaps they just did not want to get involved. Anyway, Paul and
Bill were on their own now. It was not going to be a pleasant day. But at
the end of it they would be able to go home.
Looking out the window, Bill saw that there was some excitement down on
Eisenhower Avenue. Some distance along the street, dissidents were stopping
cars and putting Khomeini posters on the windshields. The soldiers guarding
the Ministry Build-
38 Ken Follett
ing were stopping the cars and tearing the posters up. As he watched, the
soldiers became more belligerent. They broke the headlight of a car, then
the windshield of another, as if to teach the drivers a lesson. Next they
pulled a driver out of a car and punched him around.
The next car they picked on was a taxi, a Tehran orange cab. It went by
without stopping, not surprisingly; but the soldiers seemed angered and
chased it, firing their guns. Cab and pursuing soldiers disappeared from
Bill's sight.
After that the soldiers ended their grim game and returned to their posts
inside the waited courtyard in front of the Ministry Building. The
incident, with its queer mixture of childishness and brutality, seemed to
sum up what was going on in Iran. The country was going down the drain. The
Shah had lost control and the rebels were determined to drive him out or
kill him. Bill felt sorry for the people in the cars, victims of
circumstance who could do nothing but hope that things would get better. If
Iranians are no longer safe, he thought, Americans must be in even more
danger. We've got to get out of this country.
Two Iranians were hanging about in the same corridor, watching the fracas
on Eisenhower Avenue. They seemed as appalled as Bill at what they saw.
Moming turned into afternoon. Bill got more tea and a sandwich for lunch.
He wondered what was happening in the interrogation room. He was not
surprised to be kept waiting: in Iran "an hour" meant nothing more precise
than "later, maybe." But as the day wore on he became more uneasy. Was Paul
in trouble in there?
The two Iranians stayed in the corridor all afternoon, doing nothing. Bill
wondered vaguely who they were. He did not speak to them.
He wished the time would pass more quickly. He had a reservation on
tomorrow's plane. Emily and the kids were in Washington, where both Emily's
and Bill's parents lived. They had a big party planned for him on New
Year's Eve. He could hardly wait to see them all again.
He should have left Iran weeks ago, when the firebombing started. One of
the people whose homes had been bombed was a girl with whom he had gone to
high school in Washington. She was married to a diplomat at the U.S.
Embassy. Bill had talked to them about the incident. Nobody had been hurt,
luckily, but it
oN WINGS OF EAGLES 39
had been very scary. I should have taken heed, and got out then, he thought.
At last Abolhasan opened the door and called: "Bill! Come in, please-11
Bill looked at his watch. It was five o'clock. He went in.
"It's cold," he said as he sat down.
"It's warm enough in this seat," Paul said with a smained smile. Bill
looked at Paul's face: he seemed very uncomfortable.
Dadgar drank a glass of tea and ate a sandwich before he began to question
Bill. Watching him, Bill thought: look out--this guy is trying to trap us
so he won't have to let us leave the country. . Tbe interview started. Bill
gave his full name, date and place of birth, schools attended,
qualifications, and experience. Dadgar's face was blank as he asked the
questions and wrote down the answers: he was like a machine, Bill thought.
He began to see why the interview with Paul had taken so long. Each
question had to be translated from Farsi into English and each answer from
English into Farsi. Mrs. Nourbash did the translation, Abolhasan
interrupting with clarification and corrections.
Dadgar questioned Bill about EDS's performance of the Ministry contract.
Bill answered at length and in detail, although the subject was both
complicated and highly technical, and he was pretty sure that Mrs. Nourbash
could not really understand what he was saying. Anyway, no one could hope
to grasp the complexities of the entire project by asking a handful of
general questions. What kind of foolishness was this? Bill wondered. Why
did Dadgar want to sit all day in a freezing cold room and ask stupid
questions? It was some kind of Persian ritual, Bill decided. Dadgar needed
to pad out his records, show that he had explored every avenue, and protect
himself in advance against possible criticism for letting them go. At the
absolute worst, he might detain them in Iran a while longer. Either way, it
was just a matter of time.
Both Dadgar and Mrs. Nourbash seemed hostile. The interview became more
like a courtroom cross-examination. Dadgar said that EDS's progress reports
to the Ministry had been false, and EDS had used them to make the Ministry
pay for work that had not been done. Bill pointed out that Ministry
officials, who were in a position to know, had never suggested that the
reports were inaccurate. If EDS had fallen down on the job, where were the
complaints? Dadgar could examine the Ministry's files.
Dadgar asked about Dr. Towliati, and when Bill explained Tow- 40 Ken Follett
liati's role, Mrs. Nourbash--6peaking before Dadgar had given her anything
to translater-replied that Bill's explanation was untrue.
There were several miscellaneous questions, including a completely
mystifying one: did EDS have any Greek employees? Bill said they did not,
wondering what that had to do with anything. Dadgar seemed impatient.
Perhaps he had hoped that Bill's answers would contradict Paul's; and now,
disappointed, he was just going through the motions. His questioning became
perfunctory and hurried; he did not follow up Bill's answers with further
questions or requests for clarification; and he wound up the interview
after an hour.
Mrs. Nourbash said: "You will now please sip your names against each of the
questions and answers in Mr. Dadgar's notebook. "
"But they're in Farsi-we can't read a word of it!" Bin protested. It's a
trick, he thought; we'll be signing a confession to murder or espionage or
some other crime Dadgar has invented.
Abolhasan said: "I will look over his notes and check them."
Paul and Bill waited while Abolhasan read through the notebook. it seemed
a very cursory check. He put the book down on the desk. "I advise you to
sign."
Bill was sure he should not-but he had no choice. If he wanted to go home,
he had to sign.
He looked at Paul. Paul shrugged. "I guess we'd better do it."
They went through the notebook in turn, writing their names beside the
incomprehensible squiggles of Farsi.
When they finished, the atmosphere in the room was tense. Now, Bill
thought, he has to tell us we can go home.
Dadgar shuffled his papers into a neat stack while he talked to Abolhasan
in Farsi for several minutes. Then he left the room. Abolhasan turned to
Paul and Bill, his face grave.
"You are being arrested," he said.
Bill's heart sank. No plane, no Washington, no Emily, no New Year's Eve
party ...
"Bail has been set at ninety million tomans, sixty for Paul and thirty for
Bill. "
"Jesus!" Paul said. "Ninety million tomans is .
Abolhasan worked it out on a scrap of paper. "A little under thirteen
million dollars."
"You're kidding!" Bill said. "Thirteen million? A murderer's bail is twenty
thousand."
ON WINGS OF EAGLES 41
Abolhasan said: "He asks whether you are ready to post the bail."
Paul laughed. "Tell him I'm a little short now, I'm going to have to go to
the bank."
Abolhasan said nothing.
"He can't be serious," Paul said.
"He's serious," said Abolhasan.
Suddenly Bill was mad as hell-mad at Dadgar, mad at Lou Goelz, mad at the
whole darnn world. It had been a sucker trap and they had fallen right into
it. Why, they had walked in here of their own free will, to keep an
appointment made by the U.S. Embassy. They had done nothing wrong and
nobody had a shred of evidence against thern-yet they were going to jail,
and worse, an Iranian jail!
Abolhasan said: "You are allowed one phone call each."
Just like the cop shows on TV---one phone call then into the slammer.
Paul picked up the phone and dialed. "Lloyd Briggs, please. This is Paul
Chiapparone ... Lloyd? I can't make dinner tonight. I'm going to jail."
Bill thought: Paul doesn't really believe it yet.
Paul listened for a moment, then said: "How about calling Gayden, for a
start?" Bill Gayden, whose name was so similar to Bill Gaylord's, was
president of EDS World and Paul's immediate boss. As soon as this news
reaches Dallas, Bill thought, these Iranian jokers will see what happens
when EDS really gets into gear.
Paul hung up and Bill took his turn on the phone. He dialed the U.S.
Embassy and asked for the Consul General.
"Goelz? This is Bill Gaylord. We've just been arrested, and bail has been
set at thirteen million dollars."
"How did that happen?"
Bill was infuriated by Goelz's calm, measured voice. "You arranged this
meeting and you told us we could leave afterward!"
"I'm sure, if you've done nothing wrong-"
"What do you mean ip. " Bill shouted.
"I'll have someone down at the jail as soon as possible," Goelz said.
Bill hung up.
The two Iranians who had been hanging about in the corridor 0 day came in.
Bill noticed they were big and burly, and realized they must be
plain-clothes policemen.
42 Ken FoUeu
Abolhasan said: "Dadgar said it would not be necessary to handcuff YOU. 11
Paul said: "Gee, thanks."
Bill suddenly recalled the stories he had heard about the torturing of
prisoners in the Shah's jails. He tried not to think about it.
Abolhasan said: "Do you want to give me your briefcases and wallets?"