Guests Of The Ayatollah: The Iran Hostage Crisis (53 page)

Ghotbzadeh said that the council had approved the plan unanimously, despite some objections from its cleric members, and that he had briefed the imam in Qom.

“And what was his response?” Jordan asked.

“The imam does not often respond,” said Ghotbzadeh. “He listened to our explanation and nodded…. If he had objected to our proposal, he would have said so.”

Thus the fate of this effort hung on the cryptic nod of the sharp-featured, white-bearded, black-turbaned prophet. The two men discussed at some length the future relations between their countries after the hostages were released. Ghotbzadeh promised that the new Iran would prove to be an even better ally against the Soviets than the old.

In his memo to the president about the meeting, Jordan didn’t mention Ghotbzadeh’s suggestion of assassinating the shah—he referred to it only as “Point #1,” and wrote, “I’ll tell you about this in person.” In assessing the meeting, he wrote, “At best, Mr. S. is a deeply committed revolutionary, dedicated to the survival of that revolution and to the integrity and independence of Iran. His ego is enormous, but his devotion to the Imam is genuine. His commitment to the revolution makes the Soviet threat the dominant political concern in his life. At worst, Mr. S. is a devious person whose only source of power is the Imam. Now that the Imam’s health is in question, he is engaged in a number of activities (hostage negotiations, anti-Soviet rhetoric) that he perceives as being in his own best interests. The truth about Mr. S. is probably somewhere in between, but either way, we should use his present attitudes to our benefit.”

Jordan clearly believed the first characterization of Ghotbzadeh to be true. He made no mention in his memo of the ambiguity in Khomeini’s reported response to the plan. He left Paris emphasizing to Bourget and Villalon that Carter would not “apologize” for America’s actions in Iran, and that the hostages could stay in Iran “another ten months or ten years” before the president would make a statement that dishonored his country.

The meeting with Ghotbzadeh, which would have been electrifying news, remained a secret, but the mood of optimism about the hostage crisis continued to build for the rest of the month. All signs pointed to the hostages’ imminent release. A Kuwaiti newspaper reported that a deal had been struck. Ghotbzadeh publicly suggested that if the hostage takers refused to cooperate with the government, then military force might be used by Iranian authorities to retake the embassy. Iran’s ambassador to the UN, Mansour Farhang, said that the students had begun “to lose credibility with the Iranian people,” and had “gone beyond their task.” For their part, the students continued to insist that the hostages would be released only when the imam ordered them released.

Word of the solution Jordan had worked out with Bourget and Villalon began to leak. No one had the particulars, or word that the president’s chief of staff had actually met with Iran’s foreign minister, but the plan’s general outline became public, and the expectant mood in the White House was impossible to hide. A peaceful solution to the standoff not only would bring home the American hostages, it would trump Carter’s critics, particularly his Democratic challenger Kennedy, and no doubt boost both his approval ratings and his standings in the presidential race.

In keeping with the secret protocol, Carter announced on February 13 that he would support the creation of a UN commission to study the crimes of the shah, and announced at the same time that there were “positive signs” about the hostage standoff. To savvy Washington watchers, there was clearly a connection. The president’s surprising retreat on the commission, which would certainly reach conclusions critical of the United States, coupled with this suddenly optimistic assessment, strongly suggested that a deal had been struck. As anticipated, the good news eclipsed criticism of the concession.

One way that would-be important men advertise their proximity to power is to predict events. In Tehran, Ayatollah Mohammed Behesti, secretary of the Revolutionary Council, declared that the crisis would be resolved soon, and Secretary-General Waldheim, after announcing formation of a five-man commission—a French lawyer, diplomats from Algeria, Syria, and Venezuela, and the former president of Bangladesh—told reporters that he had received “general assurances” that the hostages would be released soon after the group met.

Christian Science Monitor reporter Louis Wiznitzer wrote that the hostages “can be expected to return home at or near the end of the month,” citing sources at the UN, and gave credit for the agreement to Waldheim. He reported that the UN secretary-general had worked out the basic outline of the agreement in January, but that his efforts to sell it to the White House had at first been “rebuffed” by an administration bent on responding to the Iranians with “pressure.” No doubt the secretary-general saw it that way but, in fact, Carter’s initial refusal to support creating the commission had given the United States the key bargaining point and concession. Otherwise, Wiznitzer had it right. He reported that first the hostages would be removed from the embassy and transferred to the custody of Iran’s revolutionary government, probably to the Foreign Ministry, where Laingen, Tomseth, and Howland were trapped. Two days later the Washington Post reported that the president had obtained “a commitment in principle,” and editorialized that the frustrating episode seemed to be reaching “its final chapter.”

Those following the story closely saw plenty of evidence to support this optimism. The State Department asked a federal judge in Manhattan to delay legal proceedings aimed at seizing $1 billion of Iranian assets to cover defaulted loans. The government asked a publisher to delay release of a book by Kermit Roosevelt about the CIA’s role in the 1953 Iranian coup.

Bani-Sadr kept insisting that the United States had to “apologize,” but the White House seemed to feel it could finesse that demand with Jordan’s linguistic artifice. The Iranian president formally invited the commission to Tehran and said it would be allowed to speak to all of the hostages. American TV networks latched on to the commission’s trip as the likely endgame to the months-long story, and its every move led their reports. Hostage families were interviewed from all over the country and all were visibly glowing with hope. In an interview, Vice President Walter Mondale said on the nineteenth that the crisis was nearing an end.

“We think progress is being made, but I don’t want to characterize the chances,” he said at first, but then hinted that a release was imminent. “When they [the hostages] return, people will see the whole story, and I think they will be appreciative.”

In Tehran, the student captors were still insisting that the hostages would not be freed until the shah was returned, but they seemed to be swimming against an overwhelming tide.

Then Khomeini, upon whose silent nod this whole scheme turned, finally spoke. He pulled the rug out from under Ghotbzadeh and his allies and upended the fragile agreement. In a radio speech he praised the students, and once again demanded the return of the shah. The occupation of the American embassy had “dealt a crushing blow to the world-devouring U.S.A.” He said the fate of the hostages would be decided not by Bani-Sadr and the Revolutionary Council but by the Majlis, Iran’s parliament, which had as yet not even been elected. That meant the earliest the hostages could be released was at least a month away, probably more. It also meant that the deal negotiated in secret with Ghotbzadeh was worthless.

Jordan was at home on Saturday morning when he received a call from Camp David, where he knew the president was staying that weekend. Ordinarily, an operator placed the call and the president picked up the line after a short delay. This time Carter evidently had dialed himself.

“Ham, what the hell is going on?” he demanded.

Jordan had not heard the news from Tehran.

“Well, I just got a call from Cy Vance,” said the irate president, “who said that Khomeini had made a statement this morning that the hostages would be dealt with when the Iranian parliament assembles!”

“Oh, my God, no,” said Jordan. “That’s terrible. I don’t know what to say.” He promised Carter he would call Villalon and Bourget immediately.

“Please do,” the president said. “And let them know they are playing with fire. The commission is probably already on the way to Tehran now, believing that we have an agreement…and now this! It makes us all look foolish. It’s starting to look as if the only person involved is Khomeini!”

It got worse. The UN commission very publicly left for Tehran with the private deal already collapsing, and with well-informed reporters covering its every move anticipating its futility. The imam instructed the students to turn over incriminating documents seized at the embassy to the UN commission, but when the students attempted to deliver a box of the files to their hotel the commission members refused to accept it, fearing that it contained a bomb. Despite a unanimous ruling from the Revolutionary Council and the public backing of Ghotbzadeh and Bani-Sadr, the students, emboldened by Khomeini’s speech and sensing that the commission was the linchpin of a plot to release the hostages, refused to allow its members to meet with the captive Americans.

Jordan summarized these events for the president in a memo, and Carter sent it back with the scribbled note, “Ham, they are crazy.”

The panel lingered in Tehran, hearing testimony and getting the graveyard and cripple tour, waiting for a chance to interview the accused American spies. The commission’s presence in Tehran intensified the struggle between the government and the students, with Ghotbzadeh denouncing the students as “Zionists and Communists,” and paying a visit to the embassy to confront them personally. At one point TV cameras caught the embattled foreign minister locked in heated argument with the unknown Hussein Sheikh-ol-eslam, the bearded, gap-toothed student leader, who was seen pulling the collar of an army field jacket up around his neck and jabbing a hectoring finger at the older man. Accused of collaborating with the American government, Ghotbzadeh began to receive death threats, as did Bourget and Villalon. The foreign minister offered to resign, but though Khomeini would not support him in the showdown, he refused to let Ghotbzadeh go. For the first time, the shape of the ongoing struggle between moderate secularists and religious conservatives in the new Iran spilled fully into the open, with the maverick role being played by the students on full display. The sight was confusing to most. All parties swore allegiance to Khomeini, but the imam projected not leadership but ambivalence. Finally, the commission gave up its efforts to see the hostages, suspended its inquiry, and flew home. The deal had fallen through.

In his nightly roundup of events in the hostage story on ABC, which would soon evolve into the program Nightline, Ted Koppel summed up the diplomatic disaster, still perceived primarily as Waldheim’s folly: “From the first the commission was a body born of despair, nurtured by frustration, and fueled by the absence of any alternative.”

The commission members were pictured boarding a plane in Tehran. The hostage families were back on TV at home with long, worried faces.

For his part, Bani-Sadr immediately scurried back into the radical camp. The same students he had called “self-centered children” and “dictators” weeks before, he now praised as “young patriots,” and argued that the label “moderate,” which had been applied to those trying to compromise over the hostage issue, certainly did not apply to him. Carter’s hopes were dashed and, worse, he appeared to have been snookered. All that had come of it was the creation of a UN commission that seemed certain to find fault with the United States.

“I am amazed at the naiveté of the American authorities,” said Bani-Sadr.

Carter was fed up. He was an extraordinarily patient man, but in him that virtue was now nearly exhausted. The government officials he was dealing with in Iran were powerless. He felt the last chance to free the captives peacefully had failed. Polls taken immediately after this disappointment showed that a majority of Americans believed the administration’s Iran policy had failed. Brzezinski sent a memo to Carter reporting this latest indignity, and the president scribbled in the margin, “The polls are accurate.”

Near the end of February, a guard named Mohammed told Joe Hall and Richard Queen that he was leaving. Mohammed had always treated them well, allowing them to whisper back and forth when it was forbidden to speak and sometimes bringing them candy and extra helpings of a dinner they especially liked. He told them that he was tired of the thing. It was going nowhere, and he had lost too much time away from his studies.

“I don’t believe anymore that it is the right thing to do,” he told them.

And then he was gone.

Bruce Laingen, his deputy Vic Tomseth, and security officer Mike Howland were still walking in circles on the third floor of the Foreign Ministry, involuntary “guests” of the Iranian government. Their hair had grown long and their clothes looked worn and wrinkled. They were able to shower—Laingen noted in his diary on January 2 the first hot one since the day he had arrived. Toward the end of the month they were finally given mattresses, and now they no longer had to sleep curled up on the lumpy sofas in the reception dining hall. Both Laingen and Howland had taken up watercolor painting and stood for hours by the big third-floor windows painting the views north toward the mountains. Tomseth spent most of his time reading, grabbing for the thickest books he could find. He got lost in novels set in faraway places and times.

Howland was still secretly exploring every corner of the old ministry building. He had started sneaking around at night in the nude; knowing how squeamish Iranian men were about nudity, he figured nakedness would give him a momentary advantage if he were discovered. One night he had crept downstairs to a foyer when two guards surprised him, and he hid beneath a table just a few feet away, his heart beating so loudly he felt sure they would hear it. They had passed on without noticing him.

Gradually, Howland expanded his range, and in time he had explored the whole building. He found a phone in a VIP waiting area that he used to call friends in north Tehran and to place calls to the British and Danish embassies, which gave them a line of communications that, unlike the phone in their quarters upstairs, was probably not monitored—at least no one suspected the Americans of having access to it. With the British ambassador’s office he worked out a system for passing coded messages keyed to the page numbers and lines of a book they agreed upon. This gave them another secret line of communication if they needed it. In fact, the Swiss ambassador was able to carry messages in and out of his meetings with them without being searched, and Laingen was already using that method to send private messages to Washington. Howland’s girlfriend Joan Walsh, one of the women among the thirteen hostages released in November, sent him a small file buried in a packet of pipe tobacco; she also sent him a hacksaw blade hidden in the spine of a book. Howland used the file to whittle down the blade of his pocketknife into a shim, which he then used to break into the guards’ key box in the kitchen and steal a key to the attic door.