by Allan Topol
“However, let me see what I can find out about Alpha Corp.” He went back to the computer. This time he produced a document showing that Petroleum de France (PDF) had transferred into the Alpha Corp. account the sums paid to General Chambers. She had everything she could have hoped for. A clear paper trail.
She wanted to rush across the desk and kiss Helmut Gauber.
Instead, she rose calmly, thanked Gauber for all of his help and shook his hand. He said nothing else and showed no emotion.
She didn’t have the faintest idea what he was thinking. With the information in hand, she departed quickly, hoping to leave before they sent someone else to replace the two who had been in the Mercedes. She thought about faxing the documents to Joyner, but remembering how General Chambers had managed to distort the tape of his conversation with Khalid, she rejected that possibility. The additional ten hours or so didn’t matter. She wanted to be there in person to explain and defend the documents to Joyner.
* * *
Hal, Peter and Rivka not only drove Sagit to Kloten Airport, they also walked her up to passport control in order to make certain she was safely on her way back to Washington.
“Now you guys can go home,” Sagit said. “And thank you so much.”
“Wrong,” Hal replied. “Now we go up to the tower and watch the airfield. We don’t leave Kloten until your plane is in the air.”
“But don’t you think...”
“Forget it,” Rivka replied. “I’m with them on this.”
The three of them stood and watched until Sagit waved from the other side of the glass partition. In her hand she was tightly clutching her black leather purse, which contained the papers Helmut Gauber had given her.
* * *
In Paris, Madame Blanc picked up the phone and called General Chambers. In several staccato-like sentences, she reviewed what had happened, while the general listened in stony silence.
“So the bottom line is,” she said, “we have to assume that she got copies of the records of your account at Credit Suisse. I doubt if she found out that you moved the money to the Alliance Bank on the Jardin Brunswick in Geneva. However, the American government will easily get that information and follow the money once they have Sagit’s report. As I recall, you now have three million in cash in a vault at Alliance in Geneva. The remainder is in a numbered account at Alliance.”
He was flabbergasted. “How did you know?”
“Never underestimate me,” she said, wanting to retain his confidence after everything that had happened. “I always know.”
“If you’re so powerful, why can’t you prevent her from delivering those bank records to the people in Washington?”
“I may be able to do that, but she’s very good, and I think you should take out an insurance policy in case we fail.”
“An insurance policy? I don’t understand.”
The general was pacing back and forth with the phone against his ear, eager to hear how she thought he could elude the freight train that he saw barreling down on him.
“What you need to do,” she said, “is get that money out of Switzerland. Keep some cash for yourself, the three million, for instance, and bury the rest in a couple of different banks in places in the world where the U.S. government will never be able to find it. At the same time, you have to get yourself to a country which doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States.”
Her words startled Chambers, confirming his worst fears of what might happen to him. He was stunned that his victory had been converted into a doomsday nightmare scenario in such a short period of time. “That’s a great suggestion,” he replied, trying desperately to keep his composure, “but I’ve only got a window of about twenty-four hours to do all of that before that Israeli woman manages to get the attention of the right people in Washington. I’m a military man, not an international financier.”
“That’s true, but I am, and I could help you.”
Her offer made him suspicious. “Why the generosity?” he asked in a dubious voice. “You didn’t strike me as the type.”
“Let’s say I take care of my partners. I reward loyalty.”
That struck him as funny, and an involuntary laugh forced its way from his mouth. “Why not say that the reason you’re doing this is because you don’t want to take the chance that I’ll seek immunity and testify against you?”
She tried to sound positive and encouraging, wanting him to view her as the safe haven in this storm. “That possibility has crossed my mind. So you might view my offer as a win-win scenario.”
Win-win, my ass, Chambers thought. Lady, you don’t give a shit about me. All you care about is yourself and your money. Still, what were his other options? This wasn’t the type of decision he was used to making on the spot. He needed time to sort it all out. “Can I think about it?”
“We don’t have time. The only way it’ll work is if you get on one of your air force jets ASAP before the Israeli woman arrives. Then meet me in the bank vault area at the Alliance Bank in Geneva when it opens at nine tomorrow.”
“You’ve got it all worked out, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She gave a short smug laugh. “That’s how I always do things.” Then she continued in a voice exuding confidence and control. “Oh, and one other thing. We can’t be seen together. So I’ll come in disguise, but I’m sure you’ll recognize me, unless of course I didn’t make much of an impression on you.”
With those words, she hung up the phone. Chambers stood for several moments with the dead phone in his hand, contemplating what she had told him to do.
From his standpoint, she was right, of course. If the Israeli woman made it back with those documents, he was finished. Going to Geneva was the safe course. If he found out the Israeli woman had been stopped, then he could return to Washington and resume his life as if nothing had happened. He could come back to Washington and tell that asshole, Harry Waltham, how to deal with the Saudi coup. Just what the country needed was some political hack, he thought bitterly, some fool in the White House like Harry Waltham, who didn’t have the faintest idea of military considerations or tactics, committing the American military to intervene in a protracted bloody Saudi civil war.
He refused to stand around and be crucified in the press, before Congress and in the courts. As for the money in the Swiss bank, he deserved every cent of it. He had spent thirty years serving his country, putting his life on the line. Why the hell should he have to retire next year with a piss-ass pension while hundreds of thousands of assholes his age were awash in money that they made during those same thirty years? He was every bit as smart as they were. Hell, he graduated first in his class at West Point. He could have been as successful in their fields as they were. But they made their fortunes only because people like him made this great country strong enough so the economy could grow.
Being chairman of the Joint Chiefs still had certain perks. Chambers picked up the phone and called the commander at Andrews Air Force Base. “I need my plane,” he barked. “Put on maximum fuel and have it ready to go in thirty minutes. This is a classified national security mission. I’ll advise the pilot of the destination immediately prior to flight.”
Then he placed his briefcase on the desk and emptied it. He’d need lots of room for the three million dollars in cash. As he started toward the door with his empty briefcase in hand, he suddenly stopped. The whole situation had gotten so dicey that he better be prepared for anything. He reached into his pocket, took out his key ring and walked over to the cabinet at the bottom of a built-in bookcase. After unlocking the door, he extracted a .380 Walther PPK automatic pistol with Sionics suppressor that had been popular among American commandos in Vietnam—just in case events went south on him.
* * *
As the plane took off, Sagit felt wired, strung tight from the morning’s harrowing experience. Only when they leveled off at cruising altitude did she begin to relax. It’s over, she thought to herself. At last it’s finally over.
She couldn’t wait to see David and to tell him how fortunate it was that he had remembered Henri Napoleon and his account number, and that he was forgiven for not telling her earlier.
The seat next to her in first-class was empty, and Sagit was grateful she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. With her purse on her lap gripped tightly with both hands, she dozed. The two sleepless nights and all of the day’s activities had taken their toll.
Two hours out of Washington, still clutching her purse, she walked up to the front of the cabin to use the lavatory. The other passengers were watching a movie, reading or sleeping. Behind a curtain at the far end of the cabin, the flight attendants were yakking away. As she locked the door behind her, she thought, these bathrooms in first-class are huge compared to what I’m used to, or maybe it’s Swissair or this plane. Splashing cold water on her face refreshed her. She considered what would happen when she returned to Washington. Hal had said he would call Margaret and have CIA people meet her at Dulles, but it suddenly occurred to her that the Blanc-Chambers people might make one final try to get the documents from her in the terminal. Just to be safe, she took the bank papers out of her purse, stuffed them into her blouse and buttoned her jacket over it. When she walked through the Dulles terminal, she would still grip the purse tightly, hoping that an assailant would grab it and run.
As she unlocked the lavatory door, and started out of the compartment, she suddenly felt the door push hard against her. Instinctively, she back-pedaled to avoid being trapped in the door. She called out, “Hey, there’s somebody in here.”
A ruddy, pockmarked face appeared around the door. He was a big and powerful man, and he forced his way into the lavatory, shoving her back against the wall and locking the door behind him. Before she could scream, he cupped a hand over her mouth.
“Give me the bank papers,” he said to her in a French-accented English, “and I won’t hurt you.”
When she didn’t respond, he grabbed her purse. While using his body to pin her against the wall, he searched the purse with his other hand, to no avail.
“Bitch,” he shouted. “Where are they?”
She could hear the roar of the airplane engines, and she knew that they would drown out any sounds coming from the lavatory.
She struggled to get free, but he was too strong. She tried to raise her knee, to jam it into his groin, but he was pressing her too tightly against the wall. He reached into his pocket and extracted a garrote with a noose at one end. Quickly, he slipped it over her neck and began to tighten it. As he worked, she shifted her weight, trying to free her hand.
She could feel the noose tightening. She had to free her hand. Maneuvering in such a confined space was difficult. She heard the engine of the airplane humming through the lavatory wall.
“Where is it, bitch?” he demanded. She felt the noose tightening. Finally her hand slipped free. “Tell me now, or you die.”
In a single motion, her arm shot up. With the side of her hand she viciously chopped at the pressure point on his neck. She knew that she had scored a direct hit when she felt the noose relax.
Then she took her fist and slammed it hard into his stomach and groin, again and again, mercilessly. He grunted helplessly, unable to recover. Finally he collapsed onto the toilet.
With cold fury, venting all of the anger and frustration of the injustices that had been done to her and David, she punched him repeatedly on the side of the head until he passed out. Then she sat him down on the toilet, bracing his back against the raised top of the seat. Struggling with little room to work, she took off his pants and white Jockey undershorts.
After kicking him hard in his genitals with the toe of her shoe, she pulled the belt out of his pants and used it to bind his ankles together. With his garrote, she tied his hands together. Next, she ripped his undershorts apart and stuffed the several pieces into his mouth. She rolled up his pants and jammed them under her skirt. Then she left the lavatory.
Nearby there was a flight attendant carrying a glass of water to a passenger.
“This toilet is broken,” Sagit told her, sounding like an irritated passenger.
The woman locked the door from the outside and hung up a sign that said do not use.
Sagit went back to her seat, feeling better than she had in days. She smiled to herself thinking how surprised the cleaning crew at Dulles Airport would be when they found her Frenchman.
Chapter 17
Margaret Joyner moved quickly once Sagit handed her the documents from the Zurich bank. Within an hour she had persuaded the attorney general to obtain a warrant to search General Chambers’ house at Fort Myer.
Surprisingly, they found information about the account at Credit Suisse, including a copy of the signature card and copies of the deposit slips. There were also records of phone calls to Credit Suisse from Chambers on the dates the deposits were made. They even found a leather journal in which General Chambers recorded for posterity, àla Richard Nixon, his involvement in Madame Blanc’s conspiracy.
From Fort Myer, Joyner and Ed Simpson went to the White House. It was almost seven-thirty, and the President was upstairs in the living quarters putting on his tuxedo for a state dinner in honor of the Japanese prime minister.
In stunned silence, he listened to Simpson present the case against General Chambers. When the AG was finished, the President was seething with anger.
“That dirty bastard,” he shouted, “arrest him right now.”
Joyner responded, “We don’t know where he is.”
“Then find him.”
“We’re trying, Harry. It’s not easy. So far we’ve established that he took off this morning on the air force jet he regularly uses. He must have leaned on the pilot to file a phony flight plan because it says: ‘Destination Tokyo. Purpose of flight: national security matters.’ We can’t make radio contact with the plane. We’ve tried every airport or base in or around Tokyo. Nobody has any idea that General Chambers is coming.”
“So he could be...”
“Still in the air, or anywhere that’s near an airport,” she said, finishing his thought.
“That certainly narrows the field. What about Zurich? Suppose he moved his money to another Swiss bank?”
“We’ve alerted the Swiss government. They’re watching every Swiss airport. I’ve got a couple of my own men at Kloten in Zurich.”
The first lady tapped gently on the door. “We’re running late, Harry,” she said.
“Then we’ll be late. This is too damn important.”
He paused to get his breath.
“I’ll call the Swiss president. They can arrest him if his plane lands at a Swiss Airport.”
Joyner and Simpson nodded their acquiescence, then listened in silence while President Waltham conveyed his bizarre request to a stunned Swiss president. As soon as he hung up, Joyner said, “I agree that General Chambers is important, but we still have to deal with the Saudi coup in light of this new development. That’s even more important.”
He nodded. “You’re right, Margaret. Arrange a meeting in my office tomorrow morning at ten. You two be there. Get Frost and Bill Hayes and Laurence. We’ll decide then what to do about Saudi Arabia.”
The President grabbed his tuxedo jacket and started toward the door. “Oh, and bring that guy who started all this. The one who took off and ran. What the hell’s his name...?”
“His real name is Greg Nielsen.” Margaret said.
“Yeah, Nielsen. Bring him to the meeting tomorrow morning as well.”
* * *
An hour and a half away, at St. Michaels on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, Sagit and David were lying naked in the king-size bed in Donnelly’s guest house. She had called him as soon as she knew he was in the clear. He had given her directions, and she rented a car to race into his waiting arms. That was an hour ago. Now their clothes were scattered across the floor, and half-empty glasses of champagne were on the end table.
Suddenly, her cell phone rang. “Don’t answer
it,” he said.
She pulled away from him. “I have to.”
He watched her nodding. Saying, “uh-uh…Yes. I’ll tell him…Certainly. I’m sure he’ll be there.”
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“You’re invited to the White House at ten a.m. tomorrow to participate in a major review of American policy in Saudi Arabia.”
He shook his fist in the air in a sign of victory. “Yes,” he shouted. “Yes. The fugitive agent is invited back.”
* * *
At Andrews air force Base, General Chambers told his pilot, who had flown for him for the last three years, that this flight involved serious national security considerations. As a result, the pilot should file a Tokyo flight plan but head in the direction of western Europe. Once they were over the Atlantic, Chambers ordered him to cut off all radio communications. Anticipating that the U.S. government would be watching Swiss airports, General Chambers decided that the better bet would be to land at Lyon in southeastern France and drive to Geneva.
Meantime, the general, taking a cue from Madam Blanc’s remark about being disguised, went into the lavatory on the plane and changed into civilian clothes. In a suit and tie, with a black leather briefcase at his side, he looked like a typical American businessman.
Then he went into the cockpit and gave the pilot a final set of instructions: “I want you to land at Lyon and rent a car in your name, which I’ll use. Then I want you to go back to the plane, refuel and take off without me for Tokyo. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” the pilot said, mystified but pleased to be part of a national security matter that involved cloak-and-dagger activities of this magnitude.
At five minutes past nine in the morning, when General Chambers reached the lobby of the vault area of Alliance Bank on the Jardin Brunswick in Geneva, a woman dressed in a nun’s habit was waiting for him with a burgundy leather briefcase at her side. At first he didn’t recognize her, but then she nodded to him and gave him her uniquely pernicious smile.
Once Chambers identified himself, an attendant—a heavy-set brunette in a smartly starched navy blue uniform—went with him to retrieve his safe deposit box, then led the general followed by Madame Blanc, to a windowless cubicle with a small table in the center and a chair on each side. The attendant left the box on the table and closed the door behind her.
