just before midnight while he was still reading, there had been a soft knock. kasigi had come in excitedly, apologising for disturbing him but he felt scragger should know at once that they had just heard a broadcast from a khomeini spokesman in tehran saying that all the armed services had declared for him, prime minister bakhtiar had resigned, that now iran was totally free of the shah's yoke, that by khomeini's personal order, all fighting should cease, all strikes should stop, oil production should commence again, all bazaars and shops should open, all men should hand in their weapons and return to work, and above everything, all should give thanks to god for granting them victory.
kasigi had beamed. "now we can start again. thank all gods, eh? now things will be normal again."
when kasigi had left, scragger had lain there, the light on, his mind racing over the possibilities of what would happen now. stone the crows, he had thought, how fast everything's been. i'd've bet heavy odds the shah'd never be shoved out, heavier odds that khomeini'd never be allowed back, and then my bundle on a military coup.
he had turned off the light. "just goes to show, scrag, old chap. you know eff all."
in the morning he had awakened early, accepted japanese green tea in place of the breakfast tea he usually drank indian, very strong, and always with condensed milk and gone to check, clean, and refuel, and now, everything tidy, he was very hungry. he nodded briefly to the guard who paid no attention to him and strolled off toward the four- story office building.
kasigi was standing at one of the windows on the top floor where the executive of rices were. he was in the boardroom, a spacious corner of rice with a huge table and seats for twenty and had been watching the 206 and scragger absently, his mind in turmoil. hard put to contain his rage. since early this morning he had been going through cost projections, reports, accounts receivable, work projections, and so on, and they all added up to the same result: at least another billion dollars and another year of time to start production. this was only the second time he had visited the refinery which was not in his sphere of responsibility though he was a director and member of the chairman's executive committee that was their conglomerate's highest echelon of decision-making.
behind him chief engineer watanabe sat alone at the vast table, outwardly patient, chain-smoking as always. he had been in charge for the last two years, deputy chief since the project began in '71 a man of great experience. the previous chief engineer had died here, on-site, of a heart attack.
no wonder, kasigi thought angrily. two years ago perhaps four it must have been quite clear to him our absolute maximum budget of $3.5 billion would be inadequate, that overruns were already vast and delivery dates totally unrealistic.
"why didn't chief engineer kasusaka inform us? why didn't he make a special report?"
"he did, kasigi-san," watanabe said politely, "but by direction of the head agreements of the joint venture here, all reports have to go through our courtappointed partners. it's an iranian pattern it's always supposed to be a joint venture, fifty-fifty, with shared responsibilities, but gradually the iranians manage to maneuver meetings and contracts and clauses, usually using the court or shah as an excuse, till they have de facto control and then..."
he shrugged. "you've no idea how clever they are worse than a chinese merchant, much worse. they agree to buy the whole animal but renege and take only the steak and leave you with the rest of the carcass on your hands." he put out the half-smoked cigarette and lit another. "there was a meeting of the whole board of partners with gyokotomo-sama yoshi gyokotomo himself, chairman of the syndicate here in this office, just before chief engineer
kasusaka-san died. i was present. kasusaka-san cautioned everyone that iranian bureaucratic delays and harassments squeeze is the correct word would put back production dates and cause a vast increase in cost overruns. i was present, i heard him with my own ears, but he was overridden by the iranian partners who told the chairman everything would be rearranged, that kasusaka-san didn't understand iran or the way they did things in iran." watanabe studied the end of his cigarette. "kasusaka-san even said the same in private to gyokotomosama, begging him to beware, and gave him a written detailed report."
kasigi's face closed. "were you present at this meeting?"
"no but he told me what he had said, that gyokotomo-sama accepted the report and said that he himself would take it up to the highest level, in tehran and at home in japan. but nothing happened, kasigi-san. nothing."
"where is the copy of the report?"
"there isn't one. the next day, before he left for tehran, gyokotomo ordered them destroyed." again the older man shrugged. "chief engineer kasusaka's job, and mine, was and is to get the refinery built, whatever the problems, and not to interfere with the working of the syndicate." watanabe lit a fresh cigarette from the half-smoked cigarette, inhaled deeply, stubbed the other out delicately, wanting to smash it and the ashtray and the desk and the building and the plant to smithereens along with this interloper kasigi who dared to question him, who knew nothing, had never worked in iran, and had his position in the company because he was kinsman to the todas. "unlike chief engineer kasusaka" he added oh so gently, "over the years i have kept copies of my monthly reports."
"so ha?" kasigi said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
"yes," watanabe said. and copies of these copies in a very safe place, he thought grimly in his most secret heart, taking a thick file from his briefcase and putting it on the desk, just in case you'll try to make me responsible for the failures. "you may read them if you wish."
"thank you." with an effort kasigi resisted the temptation to grab the file at once.
watanabe rubbed his face tiredly. he had been up most of the night preparing for this meeting. "once we're back to normal, work will progress quickly. we are 80 percent complete. i'm confident we can complete with the right planning it's all in my reports, including the matter of the kasusaka meeting with the partners, and then with gyokotomo-sama."
"what do you suggest as an overall solution to iran-toda?"
"there isn't one until we're back to normal."
"we are now. you heard the broadcast."
"i heard it, kasigi-san, but normal for me means when the bazargan government's in full control."
"that will happen within days. your solution?"
"the solution is simple: get fresh partners who cooperate, arrange the financing we need, and within a year, less than a year, we'll be producing."
"can the partners be changed?"
watanabe's voice became as thin as his lips. "the old ones were all courtappointed, or approved, therefore shah men, therefore suspect and enemies. we haven't seen one since khomeini returned, or heard from one. we've heard rumors they've all fled but..." watanabe shrugged his great shoulders. "i've no way of checking with no telex, no phones, no transport. i doubt if the new 'partners' will be different in attitude."
kasigi nodded and glanced back out the window, seeing nothing. easy to blame iranians and dead men and secret meetings and destroyed reports. never had chairman yoshi gyokotomo mentioned any meeting with kasusaka or any written report. why should gyokotomo bury such a vital report? ridiculous because he and his company are equally at risk as ours. why? if watanabe's telling the truth and his own reports could prove it, why?
then, for an instant that watanabe noticed, kasigi's face fell to pieces as the answer came to him: because the immense overrun and management failure of the iran-toda complex, added to the disastrous slump in world shipping, will break toda shipping industries, will break hiro toda personally and lay us open to a takeover! takeover by whom? of course by yoshi gyokotomo. of course by that jumped-up peasant family who has hated us who are highborn, samurai-descended from ancient tim
then again kasigi felt as though his brain was going to explode:
of course by yoshi gyokotomo but aided and abetted of course by our arch rivals, mitsuwari industries! oh, gyokotomotll lose a fortune but they can sustain their portion of the loss while they grease the correct palms suggesting that they will jointly absorb toda's losses, dismember it, and with the benevolence of miti put it under proper management. with the todas will go their kinsmen: the kasigis and the kayamas. i might as well be dead.
oh ho!
and now i am the one who has to bring back the terrible news. watanabe's reports will prove nothing, for of course gyokotomo will deny everything, damning me for trying to accuse him and will shout from the rooftops that the watanabe reports prove conclusively hiro toda's mismanagement for years. so i'm in trouble either way. perhaps it was hiro toda's plan to put me in the middle of this mess! perhaps he wants to replace me with one of his brothers or neph
at that moment there was a knock and the door burst open. watanabe's distraught young assistant came in hurriedly, apologising profusely for disturbing them. "oh, so sorry, watanabe-san, oh, yes, so sorr "
"what is it?" watanabe said, bringing him up short.
"a komiteh is arriving in strength, watanabe-san, kasigi-sama! look!" the white-faced young man pointed at the other windows that fronted the building.
kasigi was there first. in front of the main door was a truck filled with revolutionaries, other trucks and cars following. men jumped out of them, began to collect in haphazard groups.
scragger was approaching and they saw him stop, then go on again toward the main door, but he was waved away as a big mercedes drove up. out of its back came a heavyset man in black robes and a black turban with a white beard, accompanied by another much younger man, mustached, dressed in light clothes with an open-neck shirt. both wore glasses. watanabe sucked in his breath.
"who are they?" kasigi asked.
"i don't know, but an ayatollah means trouble. mullahs wear white turbans, ayatollahs wear black." surrounded by half a dozen guards the two men strode into the building. "bring them up here, takeo, ceremoniously." the young man rushed off at once. "we've only had one visit by an ayatollah, last year, just after the abadan fire. he called a meeting of all our iranian staff, harangued them for three minutes, then in the name of khomeini ordered them to strike." his face settled into a mask. "that was the beginning of our trouble here we expatriates have carried on as best we could ever since."
"what now?" kasigi asked.
watanabe shrugged, strode over to a bureau, and lifted up a framed photo of khomeini that kasigi had not noticed and hung it on the wall. "just for politeness," he said with a sardonic smile. "shall we sit down? they expect formality from us please take the head of the table."
"no, watanabe-san. please, you are in charge. i am only a visitor."
"as you wish." watanabe took his usual seat, and faced the door.
kasigi broke the silence. "what was that about the abadan fire?"
"ah, sorry," watanabe said apologetically, actually disgusted that kasigi did not know about that most important event. "it was last august, during their holy month of ramadan when no believer may take food or drink from sunup to sunset and tempers are normally thin. at that time there was only a small amount of national protest against the shah, mostly in tehran and qom, but nothing serious then and the clashes easily contained by police and savak. on august fifteenth arsonists set fire to a movie house, the rex cinema in abadan. all the doors 'happened' to be locked or jammed, firemen and police 'happened' to be slow arriving, and in the panic almost five hundred died, mostly women and children."
"how terrible!"
"yes. the whole nation was outraged. instantly savak was blamed, and therefore the shah, the shah blamed leftists and swore the police and savak had nothing to do with it. of course he set up an inquiry which went on for weeks. unfortunately it left the question of responsibility unresolved." watanabe was listening for the sound of footsteps. "that was the spark that united the warring opposing factions under khomeini and tore the pahlavis from their throne."
after a pause kasigi said, "who do you think set fire to the cinema?"
"who wanted to destroy the pahlavis? so easy to cry savak!" watanabe heard the elevator stop. "what're five hundred women and children to a fanatic of any persuasion?"
the door was opened by the assistant takeo. the ayatollah and the civilian strode in importantly, six armed men crowding after them. watanabe and kasigi got up politely and bowed.
"welcome," watanabe said in japanese though he could speak very good farsi. "i am naga watanabe, in charge here, this is mr. kasigi from our head office in japan. whom do i have the pleasure of addressing please?"
takeo, who could speak perfect farsi, began to interpret but the civilian, who had already sat down, cut him short. "vous parlez francis?" he said rudely to watanabe.
"iye" no watanabe said in japanese.
"when stir, m'sieur," kasigi said hesitantly, his french mediocre. "je parle un pea, mais je parle anglais mieux, et m'sieur watanabe aussi." i speak a little french but i speak english better and mr. watanabe also.
