Spycraft - Melton [179]
Still, the language was inflammatory and threatening. Chairman Brelland’s supposed communication read: “The boss has put the finality to the future of CAR’S GBB, he believe that we should use agents stationed in both Kinshasa and . . . Monrovia. Col. No 7 cabnet [sic] believe that the best time would be between the 2nd and 6th, but Ext. 9 is insisting on the 10th to 15th of which the big has already approved of.” In a later paragraph, the U.S. Ambassador was implicated: “The Ambassador proposed a new idea; he said if there isn’t time for a Mil. Coupe [sic], we could hire an assassin in the amount to $1 million and make sure the head is out of the way.”
Far too clumsy to have been produced by any Soviet Bloc intelligence service, the documents were nevertheless troubling for American diplomats. Rumors of coups and invasions could affect America’s foreign policy in Africa no matter how amateurish the forgery, unreliable the source, or outrageous the claims. Like Bokassa, rulers who had come to power by force were intuitively, if not realistically, fearful of their own ouster by similar means. Rumors leaked to the press could take on a life of their own, and gain acceptance as fact throughout the African continent in a flood of news stories and angry editorials.
So, in utmost seriousness, Crown found himself seated before President for Life Bokassa in a former colonial administration building that served as the presidential palace.11 With the U.S. Ambassador acting as interpreter, Crown, posing as a U.S. government expert, launched into a technical description of the documents’ many flaws, presenting a detailed analysis of fonts, typewriters, and handwriting used in creating the forgeries. To debunk the document was simple enough, but with each defect Crown pointed out, Bokassa seemed to grow increasingly uninterested.
Feeling the situation slipping away and fearing the possibility of becoming the first forensic document examiner to bore a head of state to death, Crown knew he had to switch tactics. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. Bokassa, recognizing the U.S. currency, immediately perked up. The expert then offered the President for Life a friendly wager. Breaking diplomatic protocol, Crown pointed his finger at the African ruler and challenged him to have his secretary call the phone number on the letterhead: 1-8338-91-65886. If the secretary got an answer in the United States, then Crown would pay for the call with the fifty-dollar bill and Bokassa could keep the change. On the other hand, Crown explained, if no one answered, the secretary was to dial a different number in Fairfax, Virginia, Crown would speak with his wife, and Bokassa would pay for the call.12
Sensing a sucker’s bet when presented with one, Bokassa smiled. “Not to worry,” he said at last. “Tell Mr. Nixon I am not mad, all will be nice.”13 The documents crisis passed and the threat seemed forgotten. Bokassa proposed an official dinner that evening for his American guests, but then failed to show up for the fish-and-chicken spread. As toasts were exchanged with government dignitaries, Crown made note of the volatile and unpredictable personalities the Ambassador faced daily.
A few years later, on December 4, 1977, Bokassa declared himself Emperor and, enigmatically, Apostle.14 The French government, still eager to maintain friendly ties to the uranium-endowed country, provided a golden throne, jeweled crown, and scepter for the ceremony that mirrored Napoleon’s self-crowning as Emperor. 15 Within two years, the French tired of Bokassa’s antics, and supported a 1979 coup that ousted the Emperor.16 Forced into early retirement, Bokassa lived in exile in France and then Côte d’Ivoire for a few years before returning to his home country in 1987 to stand trial for torture, murder, and cannibalism.17 Still the survivor, he was released after serving seven years in prison and eventually became something of a nationalist figure