by Allan Topol
Craig’s only source for the electronic equipment was the American Embassy. He assumed that Schiller’s men were watching all the likely places in case he had snuck back into the country because Argentina, like the United States, was so vast that it had a tough border to control. That meant he couldn’t drive into the United States Embassy himself. Nor did he want to risk having an Embassy car come to Nicole’s house. That only left one option. Much as he hated riding in a closed trunk, he used his cell phone to call B. J. Walker at the embassy, used Betty’s code, and asked B. J. to pick him up at the same meeting place they had used the night of the protests. He planned to drive there and park his rental car. That seemed safe enough.
Washington
Bryce was elated. With what he had given Schiller, he was confident the colonel would kill Craig Page. With his value established to Estrada, he would have fame and fortune in Argentina as well as in the United States. How many other people could have that in two countries? And with the blessing of Estrada, Gina’s great benefactor, he was confident she would marry him.
Though Bryce was in love with Gina, he was no fool. Deep down, he had suspected on the visit to Argentina that there was something that didn’t ring true about Estrada’s story about the Brazilian attack. And Estrada, who had been pressing for all those American arms, was so anxious to have the American commitment of nonintervention.
His call with Schiller had confirmed that Argentina was planning to attack Brazil and do it tomorrow at dawn. Bryce was enough of a lawyer to appreciate that what began as a harmless sexual affair had sucked him into betraying his best friend and his country. But he was in it too deep. His only choice was to put those doubts out of his mind. Everything had progressed too far. All he could do now was strengthen Treadwell’s resolve to stand firm on his nonintervention decision, even if a major war was launched by Estrada, contending that he was responding to another Brazilian attack.
When word of the outbreak of hostilities reached Treadwell in the White House early the next morning, if Bryce were asleep in his house in Georgetown, he would have no way of getting the president’s ear until after Betty, no doubt relying on what Craig Page told her, convinced Treadwell that Argentina had attacked and convinced the president to change his decision not to intervene. By the time he reached the White House, or even spoke to Treadwell, US war planes would be in the air to help Brazil.
He couldn’t let that happen.
He thought about it some more and came up with the perfect solution. It would work because the First Lady was away.
He picked up the phone and called Treadwell. “What do you have on tap for the rest of the day?” he asked.
“Right now, I’m in the Oval Office reviewing Amy’s draft for the speech about the deficit that I have to give on Friday in New York before all those financial gurus. Tonight’s quiet. Polly’s away.”
“I’ve got an idea.”
“Shoot.”
“How about a change of scenery. Let’s go out to my place at Middleburg. We’ll have dinner there and stay over.”
“I don’t know. I do feel like a prisoner. Getting cabin fever in this building. But it’s always such a hassle to go out of town overnight. Between Secret Service and the rest of the entourage.”
Bryce could tell that Treadwell was on the fence. “Then why not make it fun. We’ll take Amy along. Hell, you have the perfect cover. You’ll be reworking the speech with her.”
“Now you’re talking. That sounds great. You want to bring along Gina as well?”
“She’s out of town on an assignment for her paper. The three of us will be great.”
“Good, I’ll call Amy to come over here around seven. We’ll take off then. You want to ride in the chopper with us?”
“Naw. I better go down early and get everything ready.”
When he hung up the phone, Bryce was very pleased with himself. At dinner, he’d have a chance to lobby Treadwell about Argentina. It didn’t matter if Amy was there. She’d never repeat anything. He now had the perfect plan for countering that interfering Betty Richards. What an outrage—sending a spy to Argentina behind the backs of Bryce and the president. In Middleburg, Betty would never have the access to Treadwell that she would at the White House. Tomorrow morning, Bryce would be in complete control of Treadwell.
Buenos Aires
“I assume you want to use a secure phone,” B. J. said to Craig once they were inside the Embassy.
“That’s part of it. I also need some technical help. I want to fit a woman with a recording device to pick up a conversation in a small meeting. Probably one on one.”
B. J. looked uncomfortable. “I hope you don’t want simultaneous broadcast outside the building.”
“That’s precisely what I want. That way I can be in a car or van on the street, making the recording, but ready to go in if she gets into trouble.”
B. J. shook his head. “Sorry, we don’t have equipment to do that, and I can’t get it on short notice.”
“Oh for God’s sake. What is this?”
B. J. held out his hands. “It’s not Washington. That’s for sure.”
Craig knew it was pointless to argue. “Then what do you have?”
“A microcassette recorder. You can fit it under her blouse. It’s extremely high quality. Just tell her to stand reasonably close to the subject. Afterwards, you bring me the cassette. You can listen to it and forward it electronically to Langley.”
“It’ll have to do,” Craig grumbled. He realized he was exposing Gina to greater danger by putting her on her own, but he had no choice. As long as Estrada didn’t suspect anything, and he had no basis for doubting Gina, she’d be alright.
While B. J. left to get the recorder, Craig went downstairs to the secure room and placed the call to Betty.
For the next fifteen minutes while she listened in silence, except for a few clarifying questions, he recited in a staccato manner everything that happened at Nicole’s house, including what Gina had heard eavesdropping on Estrada about the diamonds and his agreement with the Brazilian Army officers. Also, her willingness to wear a wire for the meeting with Estrada.
At the end, he said, “So if all goes well, by sometime this evening I’ll call you and then forward electronically what Estrada said to Gina, which will give you the time of the Argentine attack, as well as convincing evidence that Estrada’s acting the aggressor in order to take the diamonds. You’ll have an ironclad case to take to the president.”
“And if all doesn’t go well?”
“I don’t even want to think about that.”
He couldn’t bear to say, “We’ll have one dead young woman, and we won’t have the evidence.”
To Craig’s pleasant surprise, Betty said, “I’m not waiting to go to Treadwell. I’ll meet with him as soon as I can get on his calendar.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I think about the report you just gave me, the transcripts you’ve provided from the bugs in Gina’s apartment and on Gina’s phone, I am enraged. The absolute hubris of Bryce to use the United States and destroy its credibility in all of Latin America because he wanted to get his rocks off.”
“I agree. But I should have the recording from Gina later today.”
“Even if you get it, which is uncertain, it would be too much to dump on Treadwell all at once. I have to begin conditioning the president as soon as possible. I’ll take those transcripts to the White House. Also, Jonathan Martin’s book, Inside the Gestapo. I need all the available ammunition. Bryce has been Treadwell’s great buddy for more than forty years. This won’t go down easy, my telling him that Bryce has been operating as an agent of a foreign government. That he has betrayed Treadwell and the United States. I have to do it in stages. Treadwell knows Gina. If Estrada kills her, that’ll make an impression on the president.”
Craig took the electronic equipment back to Nicole’s house where he explained the plan to Gina and Nicole.
He was looking at
Gina. “The microcassette recorder will be positioned with tape against your skin. Under your blouse between the two cups of your bra. In addition to the tape, it will be held in place by skin colored wire that runs around your back.”
He turned to Nicole and added, “When we’re ready to fit it, you’ll do it.”
Gina shot him a look. “I’m ready to go. Let me call Estrada’s office. His secretary knows me.”
“Good. Do it. Use your cell phone.”
Craig watched her as she made the call. Despite her show of bravado, he could see her hand shaking ever so slightly. Craig asked Gina to turn up the volume, and he moved close enough to her so he could hear the voices on the other end.
“I have to see Alfredo,” Gina said. “It’s a private matter that’s quite urgent.”
When Gina hung up, she reported what the secretary said: “I should come to his office in Defense at seven this evening.”
For the next hour, Craig went over, again and again with Gina, the script for her conversation with Estrada and what they needed from it: the time of the next attack; an admission that last week’s incident was a fake; and that the objective of the upcoming attack would be to seize the Brazilian diamond fields.
During the discussion, Nicole remained quiet. It was so out of character for her that Craig realized it was her way of showing her distress over what he was doing with Gina. He didn’t care. This was the only way to get the information he needed.
“Try to stay close to Estrada during your discussion with him,” he said. “That’s essential for us to get a good recording.”
“Afterwards, where will I meet you to give you the cassette?”
“Remember El Bodegon, the tango joint we went to after the Alvear dinner?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be there from seven on.”
“Sometimes Alfredo likes to take me out to dinner.”
“If that happens, go into a bathroom, take off the recorder, wire and other stuff, then put it all in your purse to minimize the risk of him seeing anything. Then meet me after your dinner with him.”
“I’m sure I’ll be at El Bodegon by eleven at the latest.”
“I’ll stay until midnight.”
She didn’t ask what would happen if she wasn’t there by then. None of them wanted to contemplate that possibility.
Gina had firmly committed to memory Craig’s instructions for how she should play the conversation with Estrada. Having those firmly in mind worked wonders to keep her fear under a measure of control as she walked through the glass doors of the somber, gray, stone Ministry of Defense. She was dressed in a long sleeved, dark brown cotton blouse and a beige skirt that ran well below her knees. Under her blouse was the microcassette recorder that Nicole had installed. The skin colored wire running around her back was tight and made indentations in her skin, but that didn’t bother her.
Walking up to the reception area in the center of the lobby, she couldn’t keep her knees from wobbling, no matter how hard she tried.
The Army officer, alone at the desk, recognized her from previous visits to Estrada. Though he put her through the motions of signing in, no identification was required. No metal detector for a friend of Estrada. He told her she could proceed up to Estrada’s office without an escort. Quickly, she crossed the reception area to the bank of elevators.
As she exited the elevator and walked along the dimly lit marble corridor, the clicking of her heels seemed excruciatingly loud. Settle down, she admonished herself. He’ll have no reason to suspect a thing unless you give him one.
Passing Colonel Schiller’s office, she turned her head ever so slightly and looked into the open doorway. The colonel sat at his desk staring into the corridor. He nodded and gave her a short, sadistic smile.
Inside Estrada’s suite, she expected to see one of the generals’ secretaries, but their desks were vacant. All of the papers out of sight. He must have let them go home, she decided. Nothing unusual in that, given the hour, though it underscored how very much alone she felt.
Still, she had no doubt she was doing the right thing. It wasn’t simply that she had to atone for the sins of her father toward Maria and other innocent people, Estrada had been part of the baby kidnapping operation and God only knows what else. He couldn’t be permitted to take over the country.
With what she now knew, it amazed her, walking into Estrada’s huge corner office, that he looked perfectly normal and relaxed, with his feet up on his desk, reading a document in a black binder. A lit cigar rested in an ashtray close to his right hand. Convinced he didn’t suspect a thing, and how could he, she breathed a large sigh of relief.
He sat upright, pointed to a stiff wooden chair in front of his desk, and she sat down.
“I was surprised that you were back in Argentina,” he said. “Intrigued by your message that you had something urgent to tell me.”
“I was afraid to use the phone.”
“If it’s that sensitive, you were wise to come in person. Tell me about it.”
His eyes were boring in on her with such intensity that she glanced down at her hands folded in her lap.
Before she had a chance to speak, the telephone rang. Estrada picked it up, listened for a couple of seconds, said, “Yes, I understand,” and hung up. He turned back to her.
Ready with the words Craig had given her, Gina began in a firm voice, hoping to sound spontaneous. “Edward Bryce suspects that he was duped by you and Colonel Schiller when he was in Argentina last week. He now believes that the Brazilian attack was bogus—a fabrication by you and Colonel Schiller to make it look like Brazil initiated the action to justify a large Argentine attack in the very near future.” She paused for a second to let her words sink in. “As soon as I heard this, I immediately flew home. I thought you should hear it in person”
Estrada looked troubled. “Did Bryce give you any basis for his suspicions?”
“He remembered reading in a history class in school that Colonel Schiller’s grandfather used precisely the same tactics for the German army to justify their attack on Poland in 1939.”
Estrada puffed on his cigar and blew smoke into the air. “That’s preposterous. The notion that we manufactured the attack.” Estrada said it in a tone of incredulity.
“But that’s what Bryce said.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Precisely what you just said. I think I used the word ludicrous, but …”
“But what?”
She swallowed hard. Craig had told her this was the key point. “I knew that Bryce was right.”
“Really. How did you know that?”
“The last time I stayed at your country house, late at night, you had a meeting with Colonel Schiller and some of the generals. Honestly, I had no intention of eavesdropping, but I woke up to go to the bathroom. I had trouble falling asleep, and I heard certain things.”
He locked eyes with her. “What things?”
“That a small Brazilian attack would be fabricated. That it would be followed by a large attack by our army to cut off a portion of Brazil and seize territory with valuable diamond deposits.”
Craig had told her that the next words Estrada said would be the most important. In view of her relationship with the general, Craig expected Estrada to confide in her that what she had heard that night in his house was correct. Then it would be an easy matter for her to follow up by asking him when the attack would take place. Once he gave her that information, she would have on the tape everything that Craig needed. She should then drop the subject and move on.
She waited anxiously for Estrada to respond. Instead of saying a word, he rose and walked over to a window across the office. There, he stood looking out into the night as if he were deep in thought. Gina was alarmed. Craig had told her that if Estrada was too far away, the recording device wouldn’t pick up what he said. Craig hadn’t told her how far was too far. But this was a key point. On the verge of panic, she sprang up and walked toward Estrad
a. At a distance of ten feet, she stopped, waiting for him to say something—the words that would incriminate him.
Without opening his mouth and without any warning, he wheeled around abruptly, charged toward her, and with both hands ripped open her blouse at the center where it was buttoned. Too stunned to move or speak and paralyzed with fear, she watched in horror as he pulled a small army knife from his pocket, cut the wire, roughly pulled the microrecorder away from the tape fastening it to her skin, and tossed it into a large pitcher of water on a nearby table. The device sank quickly to the bottom where she realized it couldn’t record a word.
Estrada picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Yes,” he said.
Seconds later, Schiller raced into the room. She cowered against the wall, trying to hold together the two sides of her blouse to cover herself. Schiller sneered at her, picked up the pitcher, and left the room as quickly as he came, shutting the door behind him.
Estrada was now glaring at her. “Your friend, Craig Page, the CIA agent …”
In midsentence, he paused, letting the name sink in, making sure she understood that he now knew Barry Gorman, the investment banker, was Craig Page, a CIA agent. Then he continued. “Your friend, Craig Page, must think that we are stupid in Argentina. It’s a pity you’ll never see him again, or you could explain to him how wrong he was.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course, I suspected that he would have you outfitted with a recording device, so Colonel Schiller installed a concealed detector above the door to my office. We set it on mute, but the response when you entered, went right to Colonel Schiller’s office. Now, let’s have a real conversation, you and I, my young friend.”
She held her breath wondering what was coming next.
“For openers,” Estrada continued, “tell me whether Craig came back with you, and how the two of you got into the country.”
“I flew into Ezeiza. I don’t know about him.”
Estrada shook his head in disbelief. “We checked all the planes over the last few days, commercial and private. Neither of you was on any manifest. We were watching the airports. Please don’t lie to me any longer.”
