The Argentine Triangle: A Craig Page Thriller Page 32

  As the soldier struggled, Craig kept pressing, choking off the air supply to his body. Gradually, the man’s thrashing subsided.

  Craig watched the color drain from his face. His body went limp. Careful, he cautioned himself. Careful. Not too much or you’ll lose him.

  He released his hold and the soldier tumbled to the floor.

  “Shit, I lost him,” he moaned aloud, furious at himself.

  He leaned over and tried mouth to mouth, pumping air back into the man’s lungs. An eyelid fluttered. He was coming back. Barely conscious now, he looked up at Craig with a terrorized expression.

  “Listen up,” Craig barked, “you tell me what I want to know and you’ll live. You fuck with me and you’re a dead man.”

  The soldier blinked his eyes and Craig took this as acquiescence.

  “Where did General Estrada go?” he asked.

  “Up north,” came the response in a hoarse whisper.

  “To his headquarters at Iguazu?”

  “Yes … yes …” was the faint reply.

  “What about Schiller?”

  “He went with Estrada.”

  “And the girl, Gina?”

  The man hesitated. Craig saw that he had a knife in a case at his hip. Craig took it out and held the sharp blade close against the soldier’s throat.

  “What about the girl?”

  “They dragged her with them. She didn’t want to go. She was yelling, ‘Don’t take me.’”

  “That bastard, Estrada,” Craig shouted.

  No point killing the soldier. He had gotten what he wanted. With the knife in one hand, he dragged the man into a coat closet off the lobby. He stripped off the soldier’s shirt and cut it into strips that he used along with the man’s belt to tie the soldier’s hands and feet. Then he picked up a wooden coat hanger and smashed the guard on the head hard enough to knock him out, but not do any real damage.

  Craig took the man’s pistol holstered at his hip, as well as the knife, and left him in the closet with the door tightly closed.

  Back at the reception desk, he picked up the soldier’s Uzi, which had been resting on the floor near his feet. He concealed it in an empty shopping bag that had been in the trash bin. Then he walked quickly through the front door.

  Out on the street, he stopped and looked in every direction. An eerie silence had settled over the area. No pedestrians. No cars on the road.

  He walked two blocks, then ducked behind the corner of a building so he wasn’t visible from the street. From there, he called Nicole.

  “You once told me you know where Estrada’s headquarters is at Iguazu. In an old castle, right?”

  “Yeah. Why do you want to know?”

  “Because I’m going there right now. That’s where Estrada and Schiller are. And they have Gina.”

  “Are you crazy? Planes don’t fly at one in the morning. There won’t be anything until seven or eight at the earliest.”

  Craig wasn’t deterred. “You must know somebody who flies private planes for rich people. Call him and tell him I want to go now. Money’s no object. With a big payoff, he’ll put off sleeping for a few hours.”

  From behind the building, Craig saw a police car advancing slowly down the street from his left to his right.

  “Hold on for a minute,” he told Nicole.

  The pistol was in his pocket. He gripped it hard. If the car stopped, he’d fire first and ask questions later.

  The police car slowed down.

  Craig held his breath.

  Inexplicably, the police car resumed its normal speed. It must have been a routine patrol.

  “I know someone,” Nicole said. “Manuel Rodriguez. He owns his own plane. He flies it for lots of company execs.”

  “Then call him. If he won’t do it, find someone else. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  He hung up and stared at his phone. C’mon, Nicole. Come through for me.

  She did. Two minutes later, his phone rang.

  “Rodriguez wants twenty K US. He’ll take plastic. In an hour he’ll be at Aero Parque Jorge Newbery to fly us up there.”

  “Who’s the ‘us’?” he said. “I couldn’t put you at risk like that.”

  “Gina will need help, and even someone as brilliant as you won’t be able to do it on your own.”

  Her vehemence reminded him of Elizabeth. He had no chance of telling either of them what to do.

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll be glad to have you. I’ll find a cab and meet you at the airport.”

  “Tell me where you are. I’ll pick you up.”

  Rodriguez insisted on receiving a verbal authorization from American Express for his payment before letting Craig and Nicole on the plane.

  Once he had that, he moved quickly to fuel up and file a flight plan. Minutes later, the three of them took off.

  Inside the Learjet, Craig demanded that Rodriguez leave the door to the cockpit open. Notwithstanding Nicole’s confidence in the pilot, there was something Craig didn’t like about the man. He knew that plenty of danger and risk awaited them in Iguazu, but he wanted to make certain they were able to walk down the stairs of the plane on their arrival.

  Iguazu, Argentina

  From the castle in Iguazu, Estrada arranged a telephonic hookup with his top generals. “Zero hour is right now,” he said. “I want all of our planes in the air immediately. The initial objective is to knock out the entire southern sector of the Brazilian Air Force on the ground before they have a chance to put their planes into the air. Then exactly one hour from now, I want tank and infantry moving east at all locations. Don’t stop until you reach the sea. Is that clear?”

  In unison came the response. “Yes, sir.”

  Estrada hung up and turned to Colonel Schiller. “Where’s Gina?”

  “The girl’s in a prison cell upstairs,” Schiller said. “I have a soldier guarding her.”

  On the flight to Iguazu in a military plane, Schiller had urged Estrada to give him an opportunity to interrogate Gina in his own way. This meant various forms of torture with which Estrada was familiar, but Estrada had rejected the colonel’s proposal, telling him, “Let’s discuss it in Iguazu.”

  Now Schiller renewed his request. “If you leave me alone with her for just an hour, I promise she’ll tell me everything she knows about Craig Page and the Americans.”

  Estrada glared at the colonel. “Leave her alone.”

  Schiller pressed him. “The little bitch betrayed you. I intend to tie her down in a bed and have my way with her. Just to loosen her up. After that, I’ll interrogate her. If she doesn’t talk, I’ll insert a stick, wired to pass an electric current into her vagina. That will change her mind.”

  “And what do you hope to gain?”

  “Information about how much Craig Page knows about our plans and who he’s working with in Washington. What the Americans are planning to do. Whether Bryce is really with us or playing both sides.”

  “You think she’ll know all this?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Though furious at Gina’s betrayal, the normally decisive Estrada was torn about what to do. Schiller had a point. It would be an advantage to find out what Craig Page knew and Gina might have that information. After what she had done she wasn’t entitled to mercy.

  And yet …

  Miguel Galindo had been more than a hero, a friend, and a revered commanding officer for Estrada. Miguel had been a surrogate father for Estrada, who had been an orphan. After the death of Gina’s mother, Miguel had made Estrada promise that if anything happened to him, Estrada would take care of Gina. Following Miguel’s assassination Estrada lumped her together with his own four children. He never treated her differently from any of them.

  Estrada couldn’t do it. He turned to Schiller. “Leave Gina alone. She’s irrelevant. It’s too late for the Americans to do anything. By the time they wake up in Washington, all of southeastern Brazil will be in our hands.”

  When Schiller didn’t re
spond, Estrada added, “If you want to focus your intelligent effort, do it on Craig Page.”

  Estrada was angry at himself for being deceived by the Barry Gorman cover. After Dunn, he should have been more vigilant. The $10 billion had blinded him. Schiller had warned him that’s what was happening, but he chose to disregard Schiller’s advice, believing he was able to determine for himself whether Barry Gorman was genuine. It was his own fault that he was in this situation.

  “When we get our hands on Craig Page,” Estrada said, “we’ll deal harshly with him. We’ll give him no mercy.”

  Middleburg, Virginia

  Asleep in the master bedroom at the far end of the second floor, Bryce was awakened by the sound of a woman screaming. It was an awful, piercing yell that conveyed a combination of fear and terror. A desperate cry for help.

  He shot upright in bed and tried to orient himself. Was he dreaming? The cry was coming from the far end of the corridor, from the guestroom Treadwell and Amy were using. He wasn’t dreaming. It was Amy who was screaming.

  After glancing at the clock that showed it was 3:12 a.m., he jumped out of bed and ran down the hall in his pajamas. Amy was standing in front of the door to the guestroom, her robe open in front She looked like a wild woman, strands of hair flowing over her face. She held her arms high over her head and shrieked. “Help me. Somebody! Please! God, help me!”

  Bryce heard noise on the stairs behind him. He whirled around and saw Dr. Lee, clutching her black doctor’s bag, and a military aide racing up from downstairs.

  “Quick,” Amy cried out. “Come quick. It’s the president. He’s having an attack.”

  Dr. Lee followed her into the bedroom with Bryce right behind. There, he saw Treadwell lying on the bed in obvious pain, moaning and gasping for breath. His right hand was in a tight fist against his chest. His skin color was gray, and he was drenched with sweat. Bryce was no doctor, but he was convinced Treadwell was having a heart attack.

  Dr. Lee shouted to Amy, “Go into the bathroom. Get me one of his nitroglycerine tablets.”

  While Amy ran off to retrieve the medicine, Bryce was staring at the celling wondering what all this meant for him.

  He tried to focus on what was happening. Dr. Lee placed her ear against Treadwell’s mouth, listening for a breath. She then put her fingers on the side of Treadwell’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

  “He has a pulse, but it’s thready,” the doctor said to Bryce. “Go get Cummings, a secret service agent. He’s had paramedic training. Tell him to bring me the oxygen and defibrillator. Also, tell him to have them rev up one of the choppers.”

  Northern Argentina

  “We can’t fly into Iguazu,” Rodriguez announced to Craig and Nicole from the cockpit over the plane’s PA system.

  That brought the two of them racing forward into the cockpit. “Why the hell not?” Craig said.

  “War’s broken out in the area. It’s too dangerous. Besides, my insurance won’t cover the plane for loss in a war.”

  Craig pulled the gun out of his jacket pocket and shoved it against the back of the pilot’s head. “This trumps your insurance policy. We’re going to Iguazu. The plane’s staying on the ground until I locate and bring back another passenger. Then we’re returning to Buenos Aires. Now either you fly this plane or I do.”

  Faced with silence from the pilot, Craig added, “When you think about your options, you better factor in that if I have to fly, when we reach Iguazu, I’ll put a bullet in your brain and leave your body to rot in the heat up there. Where I come from, that’s what we do to people who don’t keep their word.”

  Rodriguez looked at Nicole with loathing. How could she have set him up with this lunatic? His whole body was trembling with fear. “No. No. I’ll fly.”

  “Good. Now Nicole and I will go back there and sit down. I’ll be watching you with the gun in my hand. If you try to call anybody or you take this plane off course, I’ll be up here yanking you out of this seat so fast your head will spin.”

  With that, Craig and Nicole returned to seats in the front of the passenger cabin. Through the open cockpit door he was watching Rodriguez, ready to spring forward as he had threatened. He handed the gun to Nicole. “Keep your eye on your buddy Rodriguez.”

  Then he pulled out his cell phone and called Betty. There was no time to worry about a secure phone.

  “The war has started,” he blurted out.

  To his astonishment, the CIA director said, “I know it. General Forbes just called me. Our satellite photos establish an attack by Argentina along a broad front. They’ve destroyed most of Brazil’s Air Force on the ground. Their troops and tanks are advancing fast. Opposition is light.”

  “That’s because Estrada made a deal with some of the Brazilian commanders to betray their government.” He pounded his fist against the seat. “Shit, that bastard Estrada will succeed.”

  “Maybe not,” Betty said with conviction.

  “You’re either dreaming, or you know something I don’t.”

  “A lot’s happened here. This afternoon I made your case to Treadwell one-on-one. I gave him the Gestapo book and your transcripts.”

  “And?” Craig held his breath.

  “He made it clear to the presidents of both countries that if Argentina attacks and Brazil asks for our assistance, we’ll give them air support.”

  “No shit. He really did that?”

  “Treadwell is not a bad guy. He may have been a little blinded by Bryce, but that sometimes happens to all of us with people we like.”

  “C’mon, Betty, the war’s started. What are we going to do?”

  “General Forbes has an aircraft carrier offshore. We’re ready to move in with planes, helicopters, and the works. Only from the air. No ground troops. General Forbes has told all of this to the president of Brazil. It’s up to the Brazilians to call and ask for our help. We won’t act until we hear from them.”

  “Well, they better call soon.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Nicole and I are en route to Iguazu.” Now that the war had started and the United States might intervene on the side of Brazil, time was of the essence. Quickly, he explained what happened to Gina. “I have to get her out of Estrada and Schiller’s hands before their world turns to crap, or they might just take it out on her.”

  “Go to it,” Betty said and hung up.

  He turned to Nicole. “How’s our friend Rodriguez doing?”

  “From time to time he turns around and glares at me, but otherwise he’s sticking with our deal. By the way, I didn’t know you could fly a plane.”

  He laughed softly and whispered in English, “I can’t.”

  She shook her head. “So all Rodriguez had to do was hand you the controls. You’d have no choice but to let him fly us back to Buenos Aires.”

  “You got it. Ever play poker?”

  She handed him back his gun. “Okay, what happens when we land in Iguazu?”

  “Change of plans,” he said. “Because of that prick Rodriguez, we can’t leave him alone with the plane while we go to find Gina or he’ll take off and fly out, which will leave the three of us stranded.”

  Nicole shook her head. “I know where this is headed. That means one of us has to stay at the airport with Rodriguez and the plane. And I drew the short straw.”

  “Or the long one, however you define it. Now tell me where the castle is and what the surrounding area looks like. I’ll have to move fast.”

  Middleburg, Virginia

  “What do you think, Doctor?” Bryce asked.

  Dr. Lee glanced up from Treadwell’s sweating body at Bryce standing in the doorway to the bedroom. “No question about it. He’s had a massive heart attack.”

  “Will he make it?”

  “My guess is it’s about fifty-fifty. He’ll need an emergency cardiac catherization. I have him stable now, which is all I can do. We can’t start with a local hospital. We’ll get him in the chopper and take him to Bethesda Naval. I calle
d and alerted them. The cath lab is standing by.”

  Bryce admired Dr. Lee’s cool professional manner in dealing with the crisis. She directed two of the secret service men to place the president on a stretcher. The oxygen hook up and telemetry leads were maintained with great care. They navigated the staircase and took Treadwell out through the front door and across the lawn to the waiting helicopter. The military aide walked two steps behind.

  Once Dr. Lee made certain the president was secure and the pilot ready to lift off, Bryce, standing close to the chopper, watched Dr. Lee remove the cell phone from her pocket. He heard the doctor in a steady voice call Don Caldwell, the president’s chief of staff, waking him up to state, “I regrettably must report to you that President Treadwell had a serious heart attack at 3:12 a.m. Twenty-three minutes ago. President Treadwell is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office. We’re about to take off by helicopter to Bethesda Naval.”

  As Bryce watched the chopper lift off, he realized the significance of Dr. Lee’s call. The doctor was complying with strict protocol of the Twenty-fifth Amendment of the Constitution. The process had now been activated to ensure a proper transfer of authority to run the country. Bryce knew that protocol very well. Caldwell would now notify the president pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House. In a matter of minutes, Vice President Worth would be the acting president.

  Twenty minutes later Bryce was standing on the porch of his house, staring into the dark sky. What a disaster. The last thing on his mind was Treadwell. He was thinking about himself. His whole life was about to become unhinged. He was now being tossed around in the middle of a vortex.

  Behind him, Bryce heard the phone ringing. That snapped him back to reality. He ran into the living room and picked it up. It was General Forbes, telling Bryce, “I have the Brazilian president and the chief of staff of their armed forces holding on another line. They’ve been trying unsuccessfully to reach President Treadwell. I’ve learned from the president’s secretary that he’s with you.”