Topaz - Leon Uris [128]
“Then, somewhere along the line he asks to see a diplomat. But a certain diplomat. A French diplomat. Monsieur Devereaux, to be specific. The bait is swallowed. Over a period of time, Devereaux is lured in and becomes convinced of Kuznetov’s authenticity. But Kuznetov also convinces him not to report all this to Paris ... not, of course, until they are ready to spring the trap.
“Nothing is left to chance, up to and including a fake heart attack. With his knowledge and permission, Kuznetov is given drugs to make it appear he is on the verge of death. The real sorrow of his unwitting wife and daughter adds to the appearance of legitimacy, and all this draws in Devereaux more and more.
“Devereuax returns from Cuba, fulfilling the first part of the scheme by handing over information designed to drag France along behind America into the fake missile crisis. Now, phase two of the plot unfolds: the so-called confession of Boris Kuznetov.
“Topaz, Disinformation, a nonexistent Anti-NATO Division of KGB, are all myths dreamed up by the Russians and Americans. Is it not strange, strange indeed, that the chief of an Anti-NATO Division cannot name a single agent in this so-called Topaz network? The final icing on the cake: The President of the United States personally becomes party to this scheme by challenging the honor of the French Secret Service.
“What better way is there for the Americans to increase their control of Europe than by creating a scandal to destroy the present organization of SDECE ... and perhaps then clutter it up with new people ... perhaps of Devereaux’s leanings? And what more clever way could this be done than by using a high-ranking French Intelligence man, André Devereaux, to deliver the message to the President of France and vouch for its authenticity?
“Our report to President La Croix will be that there is no Topaz network and that Boris Kuznetov is nothing more than a brilliant fake.”
DuBay snapped the book shut, mopped a wet brow and sat down.
The gray eyes of Colonel Gabriel Brune hung hard on André Devereaux. “Do you have anything to say, Monsieur Devereaux?”
“Yes, I must be a very stupid person.”
“Is that all?”
“If I have any cards to play,” André said without emotion, “I prefer not to play them at this table.”
Brune’s forefinger hit the table like a woodpecker. “I don’t like threats. Speak up now or the report stands.”
“A moment please,” Léon Roux said from the other side of the table. His little eyes twinkled more than usual. “The Department of Internal Protection of Sûreté intends to file a separate report on the Topaz investigation. It is the expressed opinion of Inspector Steinberger that there exists a Topaz network, that Disinformation has been used against the French and that, indeed, someone quite close to the President is a Communist agent.”
“I am suggesting,” Colonel Brune said with a heightening pitch to his voice, “that the Sûreté is doing this to embarrass a sister service. This investigation team stands five to one. Certainly President La Croix will recognize your position as a petty interservice quarrel.”
Roux was unimpressed with Brune’s anger.
“Perhaps,” he said, “the good Colonel will explain something to me?”
“Just what do you have in mind?”
“Yesterday, Henri Jarré, of NATO, was arrested in the act of transferring secret NATO documents to a member of the Soviet Embassy. En route to prison, he was extremely talkative.”
Roux deliberately stopped his explosive announcement to luxuriate in the stupefaction he had wrought on the room. Pixielike, he looked to the portrait of La Croix at the end of the room. “Inspector Steinberger,” he said slyly, “you were a member of the arresting team, were you not?”
“Yes.”
“Did you accompany Henri Jarré to La Santé Prison?”
“I did.”
“Did he talk ... say something about himself?”
“Yes.”
“Specifically,