Paul “Paolo” Servico was a member of the New Path’s ruling committee, by some accounts the number three man in the organization. He was also wanted in England in connection with raising money for terrorist groups.
He was worth capturing for several reasons, but kidnapping foreigners was expressly forbidden by U.S. law without prior authorization from the president. While he could say that Servico was merely taken in the course of an operation to free one of his agents, Rubens greatly preferred playing it straight and vetting the decision beforehand. So he called Hadash, who was on a plane en route to Japan from China.
“Will taking him compromise your operative, or your original mission?” asked Hadash when Rubens finished briefing him.
“I don’t believe so.”
“Hold on.”
As he waited on hold, Rubens couldn’t help thinking of Hadash’s decision to resign. It had utterly blindsided him. Surely it must be something personal; he’d have heard political whisperings. Nor was there any noticeable animosity between Marcke and Hadash.
But if it was personal, surely Hadash would have mentioned it. So perhaps it was a scandal that Rubens was somehow blind to. In that case, Hadash’s reluctance would make a great deal of sense.
George Hadash involved in a scandal?
How ironic, Rubens thought, to have the machinery of one of the greatest intelligence agencies in the world at his fingertips and to be powerless to use it in this instance.
“Bill, the president would like to speak to you,” said Hadash. “I’m talking with him on another line. I’m going to connect us all.”
“Of course,” said Rubens.
“Billy, what are you proposing to do with Servico?” asked Marcke as soon the connection came through.
“Debrief him. Then turn him over to Peru or even to London. It is still remotely possible that he has information about the warhead.”
“Billy, your person comes first,” said Marcke. “But if you can get him without jeopardizing the operative or your mission, do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Find a safe place to confine him. But I don’t want this ending up on
“Yes, sir.”
“Was there anything else?” Hadash asked Rubens.
“Not at the moment.”
“We’ll talk to you during the conference call,” said Hadash, and the line snapped clear.
81
Dean closed his eyes as the floatplane pitched toward the blacktop, its wings fluttering up and down. The aircraft seemed to be having second thoughts — its nose pitched up as the ground came closer. The trees were so close on either side that when Dean opened his eyes for a last-second peek all he saw was green.
The motor roared. Sure that the pilot had pulled off at the last possible second, Dean braced himself. Finally he opened his eyes and realized they were stopping.
“This space ahead is more open,” said the pilot. “I need it to take off. I don’t like feeling hemmed in when I leave a place. Landing is one thing, but to take off — a bird needs an open sky.”
Dean was not about to argue with him. He reached into his pocket and took out the agreed-to five hundred- dollar bills — and then added five more, along with some sols.
“This will cover whatever other expenses you have,” he said, holding the money out. His other hand gripped one of his pistols. “And buy silence.”
“Silence is a very necessary quality in my profession,” said the pilot, taking the bills as the plane halted, straining against its brakes.
Dean grabbed his gear and jumped out, running to the nearby field. The aircraft began to move instantly, and by the time he reached the field it was roaring up the road. The airplane pulled up easily, banking off to the east.
Dean trotted parallel to the road a few hundred feet, then zigged farther into the field, angling toward a high spot he could use to survey the area. The relatively flat parcel had been used until recently as a farm field; he passed an old iron plow overgrown in the weeds.
“How we doing, Charlie?” asked Rockman as Dean stopped to get his bearings.
“I’m fine. Yourself?”
“Bit of a cold. I’m going to take you from here. Sandy’s staying with Tommy.”
“How’s Lia?”
“Still in the compound, but she’s setting up something to slip away.”
“Tell her to hold on.”
“I’ve only said that five hundred times. The first landing site we need you to look at is two miles due north of where you are. Parallel the road for a mile; then we’ll tell you where to turn. We have a U-2 overhead, but we want you to double-check the jungle perimeter. Lia thinks there are mines near the village. The trees that show the safe path are marked with a notch. See if there’s anything like that near the landing site.”
“All right. I know the drill.”
Dean checked his weapons, bent to retie his shoes, then started walking double time in the direction of the guerrilla compound.
82
Between Jackson’s information about Sholk and Tommy’s Indian housekeeper, Rubens now had no doubt that the arms dealer had survived the crash. The link to General Tucume was irrefutable. And the old woman’s story confirmed Rubens’ suspicion that there was another bomb.
Ambassador Jackson’s surprise identification of one of the post office hostage takers as an army soldier was not just another intriguing connection with Tucume. While Rubens realized that it was not definitively proven that the man was working on the general’s behalf — as Mr. Dean so recently illustrated, an underling could easily act on his own — it suggested that at least some of the guerrilla operations in the capital and elsewhere might have been staged by the general. Until now, all of the military was believed to favor Vice President Ortez. Tucume in his meeting with the CIA station chief some days before had come as close as he was allowed by military policies to endorsing Ortez.
But the guerrilla attacks had had hurt the current government and Ortez. While this might have been the result of miscalculations at first, surely someone running a clandestine campaign to bolster Ortez would have stopped them when he saw that the results were the opposite of what he wanted.
The “discovery” of documents linking the guerrillas with Imberbe at the same time the bomb was found — a matter of considerable importance in Peru — told Rubens that Tucume was not trying to help Imberbe, either. So what was Tucume’s agenda?
A coup?
Tucume did not have enough soldiers under his control to pull one off; his units were spread thin over a vast area hundreds of miles from the capital, where forces loyal to the general staff were stationed. Even the Peruvians on the general staff who hated Tucume were having trouble scaring up any evidence of that — though the latest intercepts from the country indicated they were spreading rumors and probably laying the groundwork for such accusations.
