To Save the Nation

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by Robert E Kass




  Praise for To Save the Nation

  “Forced disappearance is not only a serious human rights violation but also an international crime, punishable as a crime against humanity under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court. Unfortunately, this crime is notoriously under-prosecuted and many forced disappearances remain unpunished.

  “Bob Kass’ novel is a great legal page-turner but also a courageous book, bringing out horrendous crimes from a recent past, which were justified in the eyes of their perpetrators as something they had to do ‘for the nation.’ In drawing attention to crimes of this nature and the political intricacies behind them, he contributes to public awareness as part of a much needed international fight against impunity.”

  —Christine Van den Wyngaert, former Judge at the International Criminal Court, the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia and the International Court of Justice, currently Judge at the Kosovo Specialist Chambers

  “My father was one of the ‘disappeared’ in Argentina’s Dirty War of the 70s. My mother fled the country with me and my sister and we eventually found asylum in Switzerland. Kass’ book, To Save the Nation, is a reminder of what happened back then. Unfortunately, ‘enforced disappearances’ continue in nearly 100 countries today. This book in a contribution to the conversation about how far a country should go in violating human rights when its leaders feel the nation is under a threat from dissidents.”

  —Antonio Hodgers, Swiss politician, Conseiller d’Etat of the Canton of Geneva, Switzerland. As a member of the Swiss Parliament, Mr. Hodgers voted for the adoption of the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance.

  “The respect of fundamental rights, individual liberties and the rule of law is the guarantee for every human being to be protected against arbitrary action of a State. Enforced disappearances are among the worst of the illegal actions a State allows itself to take against its own citizens, supposedly in order to protect the State in question, or any alleged greater value.

  “Today, in our democratic countries, in the name of the fight against terrorism, States are making their populations accept restrictions on their liberties, invoking the need for greater security. Those breaches in our fundamental liberties are not to be taken lightly. We citizens deserve liberty as much as security, within a democratic state fully applying the rule of law. Any step that restrains our human rights is a dangerous step toward the risk of being submitted to the arbitrary power of the State, towards one of the most terrifying illegal actions: enforced disappearances.

  “Bob Kass’ book reminds us of those terrible crimes committed by the power of a State against its own population. Let us not forget the danger of any unregulated power within a State. Let us also be fully aware of those dangers in order to be able to recognize and challenge any breach that threatens the rule of law, our rights and our liberties.”

  —Olivia Venet, Belgian Attorney, specialized in criminal law, criminal procedure, international criminal law, international humanitarian law and human rights. President of the Belgian Human Rights League.

  “In Kass’ debut thriller, a lawyer takes a case that pulls him into the dark world of organized crime and the grim legacy of a past Argentinian conflict.*** A feast of political intrigue and an astute exploration of Argentina’s nefarious past.” — Kirkus Reviews

  This is a work of fiction. All incidents, dialogue, and characters, with the exception of a few well-known historical figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Where real-life historical figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are entirely fictional and are not intended to reflect actual events or change the entirely fictional nature of the work. Some events, names, and places are historically accurate, and some are not. While the story was inspired by actual events, this book is not an academic treatise of scholarship. History, in some sequences, was bent to accommodate an entertaining narrative.

  Copyright © 2019 by

  Robert E. Kass and Carob Tree Press, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission, except for short excerpts in reviews.

  Robert E. Kass/Carob Tree Press, LLC

  333 W. Fort Street, 12th Floor

  Detroit, MI 48226

  www.robertekass.com

  Cover design by Bespoke Book Covers

  Audiobook production by ReelMusicianPro

  To Save the Nation / Robert E. Kass — 1st ed.

  Audiobook ISBN-13: 978-0-9856814-1-8

  E-book ISBN-13: 978-0-9856814-3-2

  Print ISBN-13: 978-0-9856814-2-5

  This book may be purchased in quantity for

  educational purposes and for reading groups.

  For further information, see www.robertekass.com.

  Look for the Discussion Guide

  in the back of this book.

  To access the Discussion Guide online

  go to www.robertekass.com.

  “In every war, there are people who disappear.”

  Argentine General Leopoldo Galtieri,

  1949 Graduate, U.S. Army School of the Americas

  “As many people will die in Argentina as is

  necessary to restore order.”

  Argentine Army Commander-in-Chief

  Jorge Rafael Videla, October 1975

  He became President five months after

  overthrowing the civilian government.

  “First we will kill all the subversives.

  Then we will kill their collaborators.

  Then their sympathizers.

  Then those who remain indifferent.

  And finally we will kill the timid.”

  General Iberio Saint Jean,

  Military Governor of Buenos Aires,

  May 1976.

  “Those who cannot remember the past

  are condemned to repeat it.”

  George Santayana

  Dedicated to the memory of attorney

  Jorge Rubenstein,

  who died in 1977 while in the custody of

  security forces in La Plata, Argentina,

  the capital of Buenos Aires Province

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ABOUT TH
E AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  DISCUSSION GUIDE

  CHAPTER 1

  November 25, 1976

  IT WAS A RELATIVELY QUIET NIGHT in the air traffic control tower at the Alvarez International Airport in Acapulco, Mexico. No more commercial flights were scheduled for that evening, and the small charter jet from New York was the only flight scheduled to arrive. Two controllers were on duty. A third had taken sick earlier in the evening. Because traffic was light, the supervisor didn’t call in a replacement. Although the shift wouldn’t end for three hours, at midnight the supervisor asked his second-in-command to bundle up their reports for the day and take them downstairs to the office.

  The supervisor cleared the charter jet for landing, gave instructions in English, and watched the plane descend to 9,000 feet on his radar screen. Suddenly, the aircraft disappeared from the screen. He repeatedly called to the aircraft, to no avail.

  The supervisor picked up the phone and called the airport office of the Mexican Federal Police to report a suspected crash of Executive Air Flight 83, in the Sierra Madre Mountains to the north and east of Acapulco, approximately thirty miles from the airport. His voice had a sense of urgency, but not panic.

  The police procedure was extremely cumbersome. First, they couldn’t authorize a search party without a written report from the control tower. One of the two staff members coordinating airport office operations that evening took it upon himself to walk over to the tower to pick up the report and brought it back to his office. He then made his own report and recommendations for a search and rescue operation, which had to be passed on to his regional command and required the approval of the central commander before allocating resources.

  The apparent crash had occurred at approximately nine fifteen that evening, and it was almost one in the morning when all the required approvals were finally obtained.

  In the meantime, local police officials on the ground received numerous reports of a possible air crash and massive explosion in the general vicinity where the aircraft was suspected to have gone down.

  The Regional Commander of the Mexican Federal Police directed the search team to start the search only at daybreak and to be fully armed. The likely crash site was in a remote mountainous area, accessible only by four-wheel drive vehicles over narrow, winding mountain roads, and armed bandits were known to operate in the area. The United States National Transportation Safety Board was notified of the incident, since the flight was of U.S. origin, but the search and rescue mission would be undertaken solely by Mexican authorities. The NTSB and the manufacturer of the aircraft would decide later how to handle their own investigations, depending in part on what the Mexican investigation found.

  CHAPTER 2

  Buenos Aires, Argentina, October 1975

  THE BLACK MERCEDES SCREECHED TO A STOP in an isolated area in the forest in the Parque Sarmiento, a large park on the north edge of Buenos Aires, and a man dressed in a rumpled tuxedo was dumped out onto the ground. Hands securely bound behind his back, legs tied together, mouth taped shut, and head covered by a black sack, he grunted frantically as his face hit the gravel at the road’s edge. It was a rainy Friday, five days after he was taken at gunpoint on his way home from a lavish party at the United States Embassy.

  Kidnaping was a common occurrence in Argentina. The Montonero guerrillas took their time and chose targets whose companies or families would be certain to pay large ransoms, a major source of financing for their operations. They attacked businesses and political figures, assassinated corporate executives and bombed their homes, killed police and raided military bases for weapons and explosives. All of this was intended to destabilize the right-wing military regime supported by the United States.

  It was almost a game:

  Snatch the target, maintain silence for several days to cause the family fear and concern, then make a huge ransom demand. They would prove the target was alive by letting him say a few words on the phone. If they chose right, it would take only two more days for the guerrillas to have their money in the bank. Ransoms for important businessmen generally ranged from $500,000 to $2 million; however, in one major score they’d kidnapped an Exxon executive and obtained over $14 million in ransom.

  The guerillas never negotiated the amount and didn’t deal in cash; cash would require delivery to a physical location, increasing the danger of getting caught. Also, the bills could be marked and traced.

  Instead, payments were made by wire to an offshore bank, from which the money would be immediately transferred to another, then on to another. Bahamas, Bermuda, the Caymans, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, the Channel Islands. The offshore locations were different each time, or at least the first one was, because that was as far as the authorities could track the wire transfer.

  Each location was chosen because of its strict bank secrecy laws and the lack of applicable treaties with Argentina. The system put a veritable brick wall between the guerillas and authorities. Usually the family wouldn’t even contact the police for fear that the victim would be killed or the kidnappers would have accomplices in the police or military.

  This time, the guerillas had scored a huge hit: The target was the brother of a big-time international banker, whose family members had been kidnapped many times before—seven times, to be exact—over a period of five years. For the guerrillas, kidnapping one of the members of this family was a challenge, because of the high level of security that generally surrounded them. At the same time, the likely ransom would be large enough to buy off security guards, who sometimes demanded hundreds of thousands of dollars.

  Each time, the target was kept in a different location.

  Blindfolded, his mouth was taped shut, except for brief periods for meals, to limit his ability to establish a relationship with his captors. He was allowed to speak only to confirm that he was alive so the ransom would be paid. If the target attempted to say more he would be severely punished by beating, cutting, electroshock or other forms of torture.

  This time, the head of the guerrilla group felt $3 million was the right price.

  The target was taken on Sunday night, first contact was made with the family on Wednesday morning, and they were given until nine thirty Friday morning to wire the funds to a numbered account at the Caribbean Trust Bank of the Bahamas, Ltd. The transfer was made at nine. Just before noon local time, the member of the guerrilla group who handled finances received confirmation from their banker at the Zurich Private Bank that the funds had arrived, after transiting through accounts in several other countries.

  “Good day, sir,” said the voice from Zurich in a sing-song Swiss-German accent.

  Though it was late afternoon in Zurich, the banker said nothing to give away the client’s identity or even the time zone of his location. The caller’s voice was familiar to the banker, but he still followed strict bank procedure, addressing each checklist item, including coded account number and passwords, as he did each time he provided information to a depositor by phone.

  “You would like information on the transfer just received?”

  “Yes, please. And the current principal balance in the account.”

  “Per your request, sir, we maintain this account with a principal balance, which represents the running total of all deposits to the account, reflected at current fair market value for the investments, less withdrawals. We have a separate account to which all interest and dividends are transferred. We hereby acknowledge receipt of a wire transfer today in the principal amount of U.S. dollars three million. This will bring the running total of all principal, less withdrawals, to U.S. dollars one hundred eighty million.”

  “Thank you very much,” said the caller, who then put down the phone and dialed his associates to tell them they could deliver the target, which they did within the hour.

  After pushing him out of the rear seat, they pulled the door shut, and the Mercedes sped away via Highway 9 to the north, direction Cordoba. About fifteen minutes later, another member
of the guerilla group, using a pay phone in Mendoza, on the other side of Argentina, notified the family where they could find him.

  CHAPTER 3

  November 25, 1976

  THE PRIVATE CHARTER JET was ready for the second leg of its flight from New York City to Acapulco, Mexico, with stops in Memphis and Dallas/Fort Worth for refueling.

  The sole passenger, a burly, bearded, good-looking gentleman in his late thirties, had disembarked for the half-hour service stop in Memphis. He waited in the Flight Ways Aviation lounge, where two pilots were waiting either for their clients or planes to be readied, and a would-be pilot poured over maps and flight manuals as he waited for his flight instructor.

  The flight lounge was small, with four small tables and a large window to the runway. The waitress, a long-time employee, remembered having seen the passenger on numerous occasions before. Extremely well-dressed, he wore a dark suit with black shirt and sharply contrasted tie, and highly polished shoes. He spoke some English, but with a heavy Spanish accent, and she imagined he was a drug lord but really had no idea of his business. He never discussed anything of substance.

  He ordered a cup of black coffee, read his Spanish language newspaper for a while, then ordered a refill, keeping an eye on the clock on the wall. As the time for re-boarding approached, he left a five dollar tip on the table, huge by Memphis standards. After a brief visit to the men’s room, he rushed out to the waiting plane, turning only slightly when the waitress wished him a good trip.

  At the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, the passenger again waited in the airport lounge but remained silent. He bought a can of Coke from a vending machine and a local newspaper and stood at the window, watching the plane while it was being refueled. As the fuel truck pulled away from the aircraft, he walked back to the plane.

  The co-pilot was waiting at the foot of the stairway as the man approached in the shadows of the lights beaming from the flight lounge building. The plane’s jet engines whirred as they readied for takeoff. The co-pilot and passenger each nodded at the other as the passenger started up the stairway. The passenger then took a different seat than the one he previously occupied, putting aside the newspaper.

 

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