Armstead sat gingerly, well to the front of his folding chair, while Pagano occupied the chair beside him.
Armstead cleared his throat. ‘You all know the reason for this meeting?’
‘Let’s be certain that we have it right,’ said Cooper. ‘You want to hire an experienced organization in order to instigate a series of actions. You are ready to pay three million dollars for each individual action.’
‘Correct,’ said Armstead.
‘We won’t ask you why you want these jobs done,’ said Cooper. ‘That’s your business.’
‘It’s not political,’ said. Armstead hastily.
‘No matter,’ replied Cooper. ‘Before we can determine if we will work for you, we must know exactly what you want done. Does this involve murder?’
Armstead was horrified. ‘Absolutely not,’ he answered quickly. His woolen mask was beginning to itch. He clasped a hand more tightly against one thigh. The bland use of the word ‘murder’ had unnerved him. He tried to recover his poise, his voice, his prepared speech. ‘I’m mainly interested in kidnapping,’ he announced. ‘Maybe robbery later. But the first job is a kidnapping. I want you to abduct a well-known person, keep him in hiding two days, demand a ransom - not too large a sum, a reasonable amount that can be raised and paid easily - you can keep the sum, the payoff. I told you this is not political, but I think it would be smart to make it look
political, maybe instead of money ask for the release of a political prisoner, some minor radical figure. You’d free the kidnap victim after two days, because I want to lessen the risk of your getting caught. An important consideration is that Gus Pagano must be added to your organization as my representative. He will help you when he can, mainly he is to act as my liaison man, be accountable strictly to me. If this can be done, I’ll be satisfied.’
‘Where does our first action happen?’ inquired Cooper.
‘San Sebastian, Spain,’ said Armstead.
‘When?’
‘Two weeks from tomorrow.’
There was a pause. ‘Who do we kidnap?’ Cooper asked.
Armstead held his breath, then blew it out of the mouth slit in his mask. He kept his voice even. ‘You kidnap the king of Spain,’ he said.
There followed what seemed an interminable silence.
Cooper broke it. ‘We’ll have to talk about that,’ he said. ‘You go back next door. We’ll call you when we are ready.’
For Armstead, it was a restless hour’s wait. Removing his mask, he wanted to call for room service. Pagano thought that it would be unwise to have a waiter around. Armstead undressed, busied himself taking a shower, dressed again. He unlocked his suitcase and extracted a manila folder, reviewing a number of alternate possibilities should the offer to the Cooper gang fall through. None was as promising as the Cooper connection, and Armstead prayed that it would work out. He was absently leafing through a London magazine when he heard the loud knock on the door to the second bedroom.
‘It’s Cooper,’ called a muffled voice. ‘You can come back in.’
Pagano caught Armstead’s shoulder. ‘Don’t forget your mask. Put it on.’
Armstead did so.
They were in the darkened second bedroom once more, and Cooper was confronting them with a stocky, short, pimply young Englishman in tow. ‘This is Quiggs, you remember,’ said Cooper. ‘He’s the one with the most experience of Spain. In fact, he has a summer residence there.
He’ll take over. He has a few more questions.’
Cooper returned to the sofa. Quiggs waited for Armstead and Pagano to reach their places. Once they were seated, he pulled a free folding chair closer to them and sat in it.
Quiggs spoke in a high-pitched nasal voice. ‘This is no simple assignment,’ he began.
‘That’s why I want experts,’ said Armstead mildly.
‘Oh, the kidnapping itself might not be too difficult,’ said Quiggs with the confident air of a professional. ‘Ordinarily the snatch itself is a matter of preparation - deployment of members to create a diversion, to block traffic, to transfer the victim to an escape vehicle, to reach a predesignated hideout, to have shifts of guards, to negotiate. But the assignment you’ve requested is a more dangerous one.’
‘Aren’t they all dangerous?’ challenged Armstead. ‘Isn’t that the risk entailed in any effort?’
Quiggs would not be baited. ‘This assignment is more dangerous than most because it will take place in Basque country. The king of Spain will mount heavy security against any attack by the Basque separatists, the ETA.’
‘I should think that would be in your favor,’ said Armstead. ‘The Spanish police will be watching out for the ETA. They’ll give less attention to a sprinkling of curious foreign tourists. Any attack from ordinary British tourists is likely to be unexpected.’
Quiggs agreed. ‘Yes, we’ve discussed all that.’ He hesitated. ‘Have you heard of the Blanco affair?’
Armstead knitted his brow beneath the warm wool mask. ‘The Blanco affair?’
‘An ETA operation,’ said Quiggs. ‘We might be wise to imitate it, and let the Basques take the heat. We suggest this as an alternative plan which, in some respects, might be easier to implement.’
‘Blanco affair,’ repeated Armstead. ‘I’m not sure I remember.’
‘Admiral Luis Carrero Blanco. He was prime minister of Spain. The Basque separatists wanted to get him. They observed that Blanco was a creature of habit. He drove his Dodge Dart through central Madrid on the same route daily. The Basques rented a basement along the route, patiently dug a tunnel under the street -‘
Tunnel. Armstead listened more intently. There had been a tunnel involving Yinger. It sounded lucky. ‘Go on,’ said Armstead.
‘The Basques imported over one hundred pounds of dynamite from the IRA, who had acquired it from the terrorist Carlos,’ Quiggs went on. ‘They planted it in the tunnel under the street. When Prime Minister Blanco drove over the spot, the Basques detonated the dynamite. The explosion blew the prime minister and his Dodge Dart up over a five-story building, a church I think. It was an extremely successful operation, and in some ways easier than a kidnapping.’
Armstead peered through the slits of his mask at the stocky speaker. For the first time he fully realized that he was not dealing with mild and gentlemanly romantic robbers. He was dealing with cold-blooded killers. He was shaken. ‘Wait a minute,’ he forced himself to say. ‘Are you suggesting we try to blow up the king of Spain?’
‘Just a thought,’ said Quiggs ingenuously.
‘Christ, no,’ blurted Armstead. ‘I told you right off - no murder. I just want a - a harmless kidnapping.’
‘As you say,’ said Quiggs good-naturedly. ‘A kidnapping it is. But again, more complicated, more dangerous. We think it’s too dangerous for three million dollars.’
‘I see. All right, exactly what sum would make it worthwhile for you?’
Quiggs glanced over his shoulder at Cooper, and directed himself at Armstead again. ‘We could do it for five million,’ said Quiggs.
‘You want five million dollars for one job,’ said Armstead, to be sure he had heard it right.
‘We can guarantee a helluva job,’ said Quiggs. ‘The payment from you, that’s not all. There are other conditions and costs.’
‘Name them,’ said Armstead nervously.
Quiggs looked behind him. ‘You better take over, Coop.’ Cooper rose and exchanged places with his confederate. ‘We have a force of exactly twelve men in London,’ said Cooper. ‘For this kind of operation we might need closer to twenty. We know where we can recruit eight more - some are in hiding, in exile, in retirement - all veterans. To get them in
line quickly might take another half million American dollars. Of course, this is a onetime-only expense. Once the personnel are with us, we’ll have them available for any future assignments.’ ‘Anything else?’
‘Weapons,’ said Cooper. ‘We have a fair supply of small arms, but for what you have in min
d we’d have to be able to do better, depend on more firepower. We wouldn’t need anything heavy. We’d require light, portable weapons. You’d have to supply them, preferably buy them from an individual dealer, not from a national source. Another onetime expense. Once we had the arsenal, we could use it over and over.’
For some unaccountable reason, Armstead was beginning to feel stimulated. ‘You tell me what you want. They shouldn’t be hard to find.’
‘We’ll give Mr. Pagano a detailed list of what we need, as
well as information on how and where we’ll take delivery.’
Armstead tried to think of where to turn for weapons, and
Nick Ramsey over in Paris came into his mind. Surely
Ramsey would know where to turn, or be able to find out.
‘Is that all?’ asked Armstead.
‘Not quite,’ said Cooper. ‘Normally we could handle what comes next ourselves. But the shortage of time involved makes it clear we will require some help. I refer to two items. One is reconnaissance. We must know the king’s schedule in San Sebastian, so that we can study it and assess his vulnerability. We must also know the degree of his security during the visit. Every detail will be useful. Can you give us a hand on this?’
‘I can,’ promised Armstead.
‘One final matter. The five-million-dollar payment to us. We must have half of it in advance.’
‘It will be done. Pagano will deliver the information on the king of Spain’s schedule, his protection, and he will deliver half your payment. Be sure to tell him where to contact you. I will tell him where to contact me. Is that it? Are you ready to go?’
Cooper gave a tic of a smile. ‘We’re ready to go.’ Armstead stood up. ‘Let’s consider ourselves in business.’
When Victoria let herself into the Plaza Athenee suite, after a
full afternoon of rummaging through the reference files of the International Herald Tribune at their offices in Neuilly, she realized that Ramsey was already there speaking to someone.
In the sitting room she found him on the telephone. He cupped his palm over the mouthpiece and handed her a written message.
‘He’s in London,’ Ramsey said.
‘Who?’ Then she saw the phone message was from Edward Armstead, who had called and missed them earlier this afternoon. ‘Armstead at the Ritz,’ she said. ‘What’s he doing in London?’
‘I’ve a call in to him,’ said Ramsey. ‘We should know any second.’
In a few seconds Armstead’s gruff voice came on. ‘Hello.’
‘Mr. Armstead? This is Nick Ramsey in Paris. We just came in -‘
‘I was wondering when you’d return my call.’
‘We were both out doing some research on other groups.’
‘Never mind,’ said Armstead. ‘I had to fly over here to London on some business. Getting away from the office gave me a little time to think. I’ve been giving some thought to your terrorist series. One thought has come to mind particularly. I keep wondering where they get their arms.’
‘From nations, big and small, through go-betweens,’ said Ramsey.
‘You mean, the United States sells weapons to terrorists?’
‘Not exactly. But as a matter of fact, the United States is the biggest arms dealer in the world, followed by the Soviet Union, France, Great Britain, Italy, and West Germany. Of course, there is government arms control in those countries, and most of their export is in heavy weapons - airplanes, tanks, so forth. Terrorists are usually interested in smaller weapons.’
‘How do terrorists get weapons from us or the Soviet Union?’
‘Not directly, of course,’ said Ramsey. ‘A big nation will sell weapons to Libya, Ethiopia, Belgium, Liechtenstein. They, in turn, may resell the arms to terrorist groups. I’d say most weapons arrive in the hands of terrorists that way.’
‘Hold on there, Nick. You say most weapons get to
terrorists that way, through countries. How do other weapons get to terrorists?’
‘Through individuals or private arms dealers. The legendary merchants of death.’
‘Individuals are in this business?’ asked Armstead. ‘Yes, there are any number around.’ ‘I’d like to meet one, interview him,’ said Armstead. ‘For our series.’
‘Oh, you don’t have to bother, Mr. Armstead. Vicky and I can find one of them to interview.’
‘No,’ said Armstead firmly. ‘I’d like to do it myself. Talk to one of those merchants, as one businessman to another. I find the idea fascinating. Also gives me a chance to keep my hand in, keep my journalist skills from getting rusty.’
Ramsey glanced at Victoria as he spoke into the telephone. ‘Very well. You want to interview a private arms dealer. When and where?’
‘Wherever he is. When? Soon as possible. In two or three days, if you can arrange it.’
‘We’ll have to make some inquiries, learn who the best and most available dealer is.’
‘Good,’ said Armstead. ‘As soon as possible. Don’t tell him who I am or that this is for a newspaper. Say you’re setting up an appointment for a buyer, an anonymous buyer - no, better if I have a name. Say you’re representing Walter Zimberg, an American businessman.’
‘Walter Zimberg. Okay, Mr. Armstead. Vicky and I will get on the ball tomorrow morning. Soon as we have someone you can see, I’ll call you back.’
‘No more calls,’ said Armstead, ‘not about this. When you’ve set it up, come straight over to London with the information. In the next two days. I’ll wait for you at the Ritz.’
‘Okay, Mr. Armstead. See you in a day or two.’ Hanging up, Ramsey related to Victoria everything that Armstead had discussed.
‘Well, I guess our next assignment is clear,’ said Ramsey. ‘Where do we find a private arms dealer for him?’ asked Victoria.
‘That’s not what bothers me. We’ll get a lead from some of
the correspondents in town or from old clips. What bothers me is - why the hustle for an interview on weapons when we haven’t even got the terrorist series started yet? What’s the big hurry all about?’
The big hurry did produce results. Despite his complaint, Nick Ramsey had to admit that.
By late the following evening Ramsey and Victoria Weston were in London, were in the Ritz with Edward Armstead, who was pleased with their speed.
‘I’ve reserved two single bedrooms for you for overnight, and you can check in downstairs when we’re through here,’ said Armstead, propping himself on the sofa with his martini in one hand. ‘Pour yourselves drinks.’
Ramsey went to the tray atop the television set and poured himself a straight scotch. Victoria refused a drink.
Now, gathered around the coffee table, Armstead seemed almost benign. ‘I received the Telex that you were on your .way here. I assume you found someone reliable, and you’ve arranged an interview for me.’
‘We found several big-time arms dealers,’ said Ramsey. ‘But I think Vicky has the man you really want to meet.’
Victoria spoke. ‘Everyone agreed he’s the best,’ said Victoria. ‘He’s the most important in the trade since Zaharoff. He’s Helmut Middendorf in Frankfurt. I spoke to him on the phone. He’ll see you, Mr. Armstead. He said he’ll see you if you’re serious.’
‘How do I prove I am serious?’ asked Armstead.
Ramsey intervened. ‘By proving you have a Swiss bank account. All those arms merchants insist on that. You must have a Swiss bank account.’
T have one,’ said Armstead.
‘In your name?’ asked Ramsey.
‘In the name of Walter Zimberg.’
‘The name Victoria used for you,’ said Ramsey. ‘Perfect.’
‘When do I go to Frankfurt?’ asked Armstead.
‘You don’t,’ said Victoria. ‘Mr. Middendorf went to Antibes today for his vacation. He’s at the Hotel du Cap d’Antibes. He’ll see you there.’
‘What day? What time?’
‘The day after tomorrow at eleven in the morni
ng. You go to the Hotel du Cap.’
‘I’ve been there before.’
‘If it’s a sunny day, he’ll be down by the pool.. He’ll be poolside, in a lounge chair to the left of the clubhouse entrance, with a bare-breasted girl on a pad beside him.’
Armstead smirked. ‘Rich old men with young girls, breasts unsheathed, that’s routine for the Hotel du Cap. A number of scenes like that on the Riviera.’
Victoria looked down at the protrusion of her breasts against her blouse, and shook her head. ‘Anyway -‘ She determined to return to the business on hand. ‘You spot them. Mr. Middendorf described himself as a hairless -meaning bald - fat, middle-aged man wearing tinted glasses, blue jock trunks, and smoking a pipe. He’ll probably be reading a Swiss magazine. You go directly to him. The bare-breasted girl will leave and make way for you on her pad. You settle down next to him and show him the deposit book for your Swiss bank account. After that you’re on your own. Don’t forget, he thinks you’re a buyer.’
‘Good work, Victoria,’ said Armstead, pleased.
‘One last thing. If it isn’t a sunny day, if it’s not poolside weather, buzz Mr. Middendorf in his suite. He’ll be waiting one place or the other.’
‘Fine, Victoria.’
‘Mr. Armstead,’ said Ramsey, ‘maybe you’d like us to come to the Riviera with you. We might be of some help.’
‘No, thanks,’ said Armstead emphatically. ‘As a matter of fact, I have something else in mind for you and Victoria. I have a new assignment for you. I want you to go to San Sebastian, Spain, tomorrow. That’s the coastal city in the Basque area.’
‘I lived there one summer,’ said Ramsey.
‘All the better. In less than two weeks the king of Spain is going to be visiting San Sebastian for a day. I have a file of clippings on the table here. There’s talk that the ETA - the Basque separatist movement - may go after him.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Ramsey flatly.
‘Well, there could be some trouble from them,’ persisted Armstead.
‘Never,’ said Ramsey. ‘The odds are that local security will be covering every Basque who looks suspicious. I don’t think anything newsy will happen.’
(1982) The Almighty Page 14