Topaz - Leon Uris [127]
“André, what can I do?”
“Just leave me alone for a while.”
13
ANDRÉ WAS THE LAST TO enter the big conference room on the first floor of SDECE headquarters. The assemblage appeared to him like a gang of eager alley cats around the long table covered with billiard-green felt cloth. The omnipresent portrait of Pierre La Croix looked down on them like a stern father.
At the head of the table was Charles Rochefort, the witless bureaucrat of medium weight but of great wealth and power inherited from his family.
Along the left side of the table sat the five-man SDECE team which had investigated the Topaz affair. Their head was one Daniel DuBay, an excellent intelligence man of long standing, but one who was more preoccupied with never getting caught on the wrong side of the political fence.
Immediately to Rochefort’s right sat Colonel Gabriel Brune, there to give dominating counsel. This morning he owned a slight smirk as he nodded grayly to André and sucked on a long cigarette held by nicotine-stained fingers.
Next to André’s chair was his only possible ally, Léon Roux, Chief of Internal Protection of the Sûreté. Roux introduced André to Inspector Marcel Steinberger, who had been Sûreté’s man on the team.
Colonel Brune nodded to Daniel DuBay, who stood. He was a short, plump person with a great gold watch chain spanning his girth. He opened a loose-leaf notebook, fitted his glasses on the end of his nose and tucked a thumb into his vest like a lawyer preparing a court argument.
“We have returned from Washington, these gentlemen and Inspector Steinberger of the Sûreté, after having studied the interrogation records, tapes, and other evidence supplied by the American division of ININ. We have also held visits with one who is referred to as Boris Kuznetov.”
“And you have had the opportunity to evaluate your findings for a report and recommendation?” Rochefort asked.
“We have.”
“You may continue.”
“Monsieur DuBay,” Colonel Brune interrupted. “All of us present are familiar with the case. We would like at this time to have a summary of your conclusions.”
“Yes ... very well.” DuBay gloried in the spotlight. “At the same time the United States and the Soviet Union concocted the Cuban missile hoax, they meticulously plotted a second part of the scheme for the purpose of discrediting the French Secret Service.”
There was no reaction from André or Roux. Steinberger played with a nail file dreamily.
“Boris Kuznetov, or whoever he really is, has proved out to be an excellent KGB officer and probably as brilliant a memory artist as we are ever apt to encounter. Kuznetov was assigned by KGB, with American cooperation, to act out a defection to the United States.”
DuBay flipped the page, puckered his lips and studied the faces around the table, only avoiding the eyes of André Devereaux. He bent, picked up his place in the notes and straightened up again.
“Kuznetov was sent to Scandinavia, to Copenhagen, fully groomed by the Soviet side as to his past and past functions. In Copenhagen he obviously held tens of dozens of meetings in a secret place where he was further coached by American ININ people. It is our feeling that he was schooled by the very same people who pretended to be his interrogators later on, namely, Dr. Billings, W. Smith, Jaffe, and Kramer. So that when they met again in Washington both sides had thoroughly rehearsed all the questions and answers previously.
“Kuznetov was given a schooling in depth in certain NATO matters, supplied with certain NATO documents to memorize, and was instructed on the workings, divisions, and directors of the French Secret Service. With this intensive training done, probably over a period of six or eight months, the United States and the Soviet Union played out a defection.
“It is beyond belief, is it not, that a KGB officer could escape from a Western country with his wife and daughter unless both sides were party to the escape?
“Now in America, Kuznetov shows he is just as capable an actor as he is a memory expert.