To Save the Nation

by Robert E Kass

  “You can start eating while I kick things off,” Winkler continued.

  “As I explained to Luke briefly on the phone last night, we’re basically on a short-term ‘due diligence’ mission to flesh out the disappearance or death of one Ricardo Guttmann. He was an Argentine banker who allegedly died in the crash of a private charter jet. It was an otherwise routine flight from New York to Acapulco back in November ‘76. Guttmann happened to be a client of mine when I was in an international law practice in Europe back then.”

  “So what was the word on the street at the time? As his lawyer, you must have had an inside track.” Rollins was definitely a bloodhound.

  “It was very confusing,” Winkler said. “We heard he died in the crash, and within a few weeks his banking empire collapsed. Banks in his group failed on four continents—in New York, Brussels, Luxembourg, Tel Aviv, and of course, Argentina, a result of what turned out to be a couple hundred million dollars in banking irregularities. Phony transactions, plain and simple, booked as loans. There were rumors galore. Some people reported having seen him alive in Spain or Cuba. Others said if he didn’t die in the crash, someone certainly would have killed him—he stiffed so many people, including some very big-time Swiss bankers, who lost millions.”

  “What about his family?” asked Rollins. “Didn’t he leave anyone behind? And do you recall if anyone watched to see if he reconnected with them?”

  “That was the strange part. As far as I know, Luke, he left everyone—parents, brother, and wife—all to bear the wrath of the Argentine military inquisitors. There was a right-wing military dictatorship in power at the time, and they used every sadistic technique known to man to elicit information. Electroshock was one of their favorites.

  “If you want some background, do a quick read of this book, Prisoner Without a Name, Cell Without a Number.” Winkler pulled a copy off the bookshelf behind him and gave it to Rollins. “It’s a very graphic, first-hand account written by an Argentine publisher, Jacobo Timerman, of how they tortured him in prison. Some of those former military fellows are still around, and that’s one reason we’re not just flying over to Buenos Aires and asking the Argentine government for an update.”

  “That’s an interesting notion, David, and one I wouldn’t totally reject,” Rollins said. “My guess is, you’d probably run up against a bureaucratic stone wall, especially in Latin America. You said the assignment is to trace the official story, find out what investigations were done, and what the reports found. Am I right on that?”

  “Essentially that’s it, as a practical matter,” said Winkler.

  “Obviously, if something leads us to conclude Guttmann didn’t die in the crash—”

  “From your lips to God’s ears, Luke. Let’s cross that bridge if and when we come to it. The party line immediately after the crash was that he was among the dead. We followed the story for a short while, as things unwound. I left the law firm just a few months after Guttmann’s—” Winkler hesitated. “Let’s call it a disappearance.”

  “And what’s the last information you had?” Rollins was starting to zero in.

  “The last word I recall from Argentina—and I don’t remember how I learned about it—was that the Argentine lawyer I dealt with, the inside counsel, died under torture during questioning. I imagined it was electroshock. He was in his fifties, and I knew he had a heart problem; he probably couldn’t take it.”

  “What was his name?” asked Rollins, putting down his fork and picking up a pen to take notes.

  “Sandoval. Miguel Sandoval. He was Guttmann’s right-hand man. It didn’t make sense that a fellow with Guttmann’s wealth and power would fake his death and leave his family and inner circle to rot.”

  “I don’t suppose you would have any reason to be in touch with anyone related to your former client since then?” Rollins was poking around, trying to determine if Winkler had any connections to the Guttmann organization or family that could be exploited.

  “Only once, a real coincidence,” Winkler said. “I ran into the former manager of Guttmann’s Brussels bank, the Pan American Trade Bank, at a wedding. Pierre de Neville was his name. He was still living in Brussels. It really is a small world. He was the inside man at that bank, the fellow I worked with to set it up and get Banking Commission approval. He walked up to me at a wedding in the States and introduced himself like it was yesterday. But over twenty years had passed since I’d last seen him.”

  “Did you talk about Guttmann?” Rollins asked.

  “Yes, briefly. I’ve always had a fascination with the case. I asked him if he thought Guttmann died in the crash, and what he looked like. Though Guttmann was my client, I never actually met the man. One time I was scheduled to have dinner with Guttmann and his wife, but Guttmann took sick at the last minute. So, I had dinner with his wife and some other people from the bank but never met Guttmann.”

  “And what did Pierre de Neville say about Guttmann?”

  “He didn’t know if Guttmann died in the crash or not.

  I guess he was like the rest of us, left to wonder what really happened. He said those were very strange times. He was frequently involved in arranging wire transfers of huge sums to pay ransoms. The kidnapping of wealthy individuals was rampant at the time.”

  “And what about Guttmann’s appearance? Did he tell you what his boss looked like?”

  “He certainly did. He told me Guttmann was short and stocky, with dark eyes and a black beard. He said he had a heavy Spanish accent but an excellent understanding of English, and if—” Winkler hesitated, as if trying to remember Pierre de Neville’s exact words.

  “And if what?” pressed Rollins.

  “As I recall, his exact words were: ‘If he shaved off the beard and lost some weight, you would never recognize him.’ That’s exactly what he said, and it made me feel like he had real doubts about whether Guttmann was really in that plane.”

  “Do you think de Neville would be cooperative if we went to him with some more questions?” asked Rollins.

  “Cooperative, certainly, but I don’t think he would have anything to add at this point,” Winkler said. “He did mention that he kept his own file of news clippings and has some other documents, which I guess could lead you to other people. But the Belgian and Argentine authorities probably would have followed up on those leads long ago.”

  “I’m going to add him to the list, just the same,” replied Rollins.

  Afzam had been sitting quietly, taking it all in. Still, his curiosity was getting the best of him. “So why the sudden interest in your former client now, Mr. Vinkler, after so many years?” He had a heavy Indian accent and always addressed the attorneys in the firm very formally. His English was impeccable, but he could never get his ‘W’s right. “From what you are telling Mr. Rollins here, I don’t get the feeling that you actually want to reopen the search for the missing banker,” he said politely. Extremely deferential, he would do whatever he was asked – and do it well – but his inquisitive mind needed to know what was really going on.

  “Good point, Afzam. The story gets more bizarre,” Winkler said. “Currently, our client is Maria Theresa Romero, who believes she’s Guttmann’s daughter. I happened to meet her while I was on vacation in Aruba last week. Talk about a small world. She was reading the book I just gave Luke, Prisoner Without a Name, and we got to talking. Turns out Maria Theresa was born in prison after Guttmann died—or disappeared—when his wife was held in custody for months of questioning after the banks failed. Maria Theresa was adopted—stolen—by an Argentine military officer who later left the country and raised her in Uruguay. All these years, she thought her dad was an upstanding Uruguayan businessman.”

  “So, how did she find out about her birth parents?” asked Rollins.

  “Her mother recently died and left her a letter outlining the real story. Although she raised Maria Theresa as her own, she wasn’t comfortable that Maria Theresa didn’t know her true parentage. Yet she didn’t have th
e courage to tell her the truth during her lifetime.”

  “And Ms. Romero just happens to run into you, her father’s former attorney from a prior life on another continent, decades ago, while you’re on vacation in Aruba, and she hires you to kick the tires, as you say, on her father’s death or disappearance? Have I got that right? I suppose you won the trip to Aruba in a charity raffle.” Rollins shook his head incredulously. “David, I’ve heard some strange stories in my time, but this one takes the cake. Have you checked the retainer she paid you to see if the money’s good? I assume you got a retainer?” Rollins said, with a devilish smile.

  “Yes, a substantial retainer, wired in on Monday. Didn’t even have to wait for a check to clear,” Winkler said. “I agree there are some incredible coincidences here, but my life has been full of them. There’s enough to fund a limited inquiry, for no more than ninety days. That’s our deal. Our firm doesn’t get paid a cent for professional services unless there’s some financial recovery, which I’ll agree is unlikely.”

  “The lawyers are working for nothing? That’s a new twist. I should hire you guys for all my legal work!” Rollins quipped, with a light air of sarcasm.

  Winkler smiled, having been the butt of lawyer jokes his entire professional career. “Essentially, it’s a pro bono case. This woman is one of probably thousands of kids who lost their parents in Argentina in the mid-seventies to early eighties. Maybe we’ll find some information on her birth mother during our search. Though Maria Theresa’s mother didn’t know the birth mother’s name, I’ve already done some checking and determined Ricardo Guttmann’s wife was Andrea Guttmann. She said her mother’s letter was unclear as to what happened to her birth mother. Around five hundred babies were taken from their mothers by C-section. Most often, the mothers were killed. Sometimes they were spared and told the babies died in childbirth.”

  “Sounds like a grisly bit of the past,” said Rollins.

  “The past is not so far behind us,” said Afzam.

  Winkler had assumed he was just taking notes on his laptop, but in fact he’d already started his research and come up with a recent article. “May I just read from this one, it’s very interesting—”

  “Go ahead, Afzam. Let’s see what you’ve found,” said Winkler.

  “It’s rather long, so let me paraphrase—from a New York Times story of just a couple of months ago. It seems that the Argentine military men who had been tried and convicted of those atrocities so many years ago, and then were pardoned when there was a change in regime, can now be tried. The Argentine Congress revoked the amnesty law, and the Argentine Supreme Court ruled that the amnesty laws are unconstitutional. There are many people dissatisfied with the fact that the country has never come to terms with what happened back then. They want some sort of formal acknowledgment, with the hope that it will lead to national healing.”

  “Excellent segue into another important aspect of this case,” said Winkler. “The firm has decided that, since we’re unlikely to make any money off this engagement, we should at least benefit from the public relations value. I imagine our PR firm will get us some prime time based on the underlying story: Child stolen from parents during 1970s Argentine military dictatorship searches for parents, aided by prominent U.S. law firm.

  “The fact that these criminals are finally being brought to justice should make our client’s search for her roots even more newsworthy. I’ll be in touch with our PR firm later this week to bring them on board.”

  “Her father’s disappearance in a mysterious plane crash, leaving a trail of major bank failures behind him, ought to merit some attention as well. That part may even bring some people to us who may have information,” added Rollins.

  “That could happen as well, but let’s step back a moment and map out a plan,” said Winkler, trying to put some order into the process. “Afzam, I’d like you to take the next week to come up with whatever you can on Ricardo Guttmann. See what you can find on the Internet for free, but I’m also giving you full authorization to use Lexis-Nexis, as a client expense. Use whatever other databases you want.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t have any idea at all how long it will take to exhaust the sources, Mr. Vinkler, but are you saying I should see what I can find within a week’s time?”

  “That’s right, Afzam, since we’ve got a ninety day time frame. As you’ll only be doing this work at night and on weekends, you may need a week to gather and digest the information. It would be best if you can come up with a brief summary of what you find, keyed to the sources. Your objective will be to locate the ‘official story’ based on articles in the media and any court cases or administrative proceedings mentioning Guttmann. I seem to recall criminal charges were filed against him in various countries based on the bank failures. By the way, Emma, did you get Afzam a Lexis-Nexis password?”

  “Sure did. Here it is, Afzam, on the outside of this folder, along with a comprehensive list of sources in their database.”

  Winkler continued. “So, a week from today—next Wednesday, or sooner if Afzam works faster than expected—we get together and review the results.”

  “And what will you be looking to me to do, David?” asked Rollins.

  “Luke, my guess is there will be leads to sources Afzam won’t be able to access. We’ll have to see what develops and if you can get into them. I’m thinking about the Mexican government crash report, and whatever the NTSB—the National Transportation Safety Board—may have had to say about the crash. If Afzam can’t get those on the Internet, he should advise you, and you can get them the old way. As Afzam’s research turns up further leads, you can work them as well.”

  “So, basically you want me to refine the search after we see what Afzam finds? We peel the onion, layer by layer, so to speak,” Rollins said. “How about having Afzam make three sets of anything worth reading, one for each of us?”

  “Makes sense. And I would expect the documents may suggest people with further information. Luke, we may decide to work the interviews together, depending on who’s involved, where they’re located, and if we decide to meet them in person or do it by phone. Let me know who you think is worth interviewing and how you’d like to do it.”

  “You should also have a screening system for any calls that come in based on your media interviews,” Rollins suggested. “You shouldn’t have calls coming to your law firm directly, and you shouldn’t handle the initial triage yourself. I’ve done lots of this stuff before—America’s Most Wanted sort of thing—and I guarantee you’ll get a thousand bogus calls for every one that might lead to something.”

  “What do you suggest, Luke? I don’t know if we’ll get any response at all from radio and TV interviews—and don’t want to front any huge amount to deal with calls that may never happen—but I agree we need to be prepared.”

  “I can set up a call center for you at minimal cost,” Rollins replied. “I’m guessing your PR agents will try to get you on CNN International—and if they don’t, I would fire them! Since most interest in this story will likely come from outside the U.S., I’ll get you an international toll-free number for both voice and fax messages, and a dedicated e-mail address.”

  “Are we going to need someone to man the phones? Remember, this is a low budget operation.” Winkler was clearly concerned that miscellaneous expenses could eat into his budget.

  “Nope, we’ll get you free-standing voicemail; the calls won’t even ring to a phone. We’ll leave our message in English and Spanish for now and see if we have to add other languages later, depending on what comes in. Callers can leave a message, send a fax, or send e-mail. You’ll also get caller ID, which can be handy in case the message is unclear. That way, anyone, anywhere can leave a message any way they want, and you’re free to go about your business.

  “Since all messages will either be recorded or in writing, we can deal with language translation on an as-needed basis. I can have an assistant sort through the calls and determine which are worth following up
. That way, we can spend our time on credible callers. Anything else on the agenda for today, David?” asked Rollins.

  “Just a couple of administrative details. Did you bring a copy of your standard contract for investigative services?”

  “Yes, I put something together for you, short and sweet, basically just the hourly rate for myself and my assistant, plus out-of-pockets.” Rollins pulled a two-page contract from his briefcase. “I left the scope of the assignment to be completed in an exhibit to be attached, which I thought we’d prepare after this meeting. As you’ll see, I have a strict confidentiality clause. I can’t divulge anything I learn to anyone else, and I can’t use any of the information for myself. No time limits on either commitment. Mum’s the word, forever.”

  “Sounds fine, though I’d like to take a few minutes to read it over,” Winkler said. “You get us your statements weekly, and we’ll cut you a check from our Client Trust Account. But before you incur any major out-of-pockets, say over a thousand bucks, make sure to get pre-approval. I think we’ll be fine in terms of your hours, especially since we’ll be looking at our cumulative commitment weekly, but I don’t want the out-of-pockets to cause us a problem. We have only so much money to work with.”

  “That’s fine, David. Take your time to look over the contract, and let me know if there’s anything we need to discuss. You can put together the exhibit as well. Thanks for your confidence, and for the opportunity to be involved.

  “I think that’s as far as we can go today. Other than finalize the contract based on your input, David, the only thing I’ll do between now and our next meeting is to set up the call center—and wait for Afzam to shoot me over copies of the Mexican crash report, and whatever the NTSB may be so kind as to share with us about what happened.”