Topaz - Leon Uris [31]
André knew the Americans had Cuba under surveillance by U-2 flights.
He also knew that the American espionage ring in Cuba was broken and that in large measure America depended upon her allies, who still had relations with Cuba.
Further, the Americans had become disillusioned with the data they got from refugees and generally considered it unreliable.
While André had the authority to turn over a copy of the Rico Parra papers to the Americans without the permission of Paris, it was not so simple. Relations between France and America had deteriorated to such an extent that the exchange of intelligence had all but dried up. Any action by him which favored the Americans would be gravely frowned upon by Paris.
But suppose he sent the film to Paris and did not advise the Americans? There was an equal chance he would receive orders not to divulge the Rico Parra papers. The Americans might well be kept in the dark about events that threatened the entire hemisphere.
For André it was a familiar position. He was once again squarely on the griddle.
After two sleepless nights he came to his desk haggard and close to exhaustion. Two copies of the film were made to be kept in Washington. The original negatives were to be dispatched by courier to SDECE in Paris.
When his decision had been made, André scribbled a cable to headquarters:
I HAVE OBTAINED FILMS OF DOCUMENTS CARRIED BY RICO PARRA. ORIGINAL NEGATIVES EN ROUTE BY COURIER. BECAUSE OF URGENT NATURE OF INFORMATION, I AM USING MY PREROGATIVE AND SUPPLYING AMERICAN ININ CHIEF WITH A SET OF FILM OF ALL DOCUMENTS.
DEVEREAUX
10
AMERICAN ININ HEADQUARTERS STOOD in an unmarked old red brick building in the Foggy-Bottom section of Washington.
Marshall McKittrick received an urgent call from ININ while en route to a concert at the White House.
Nordstrom, Hooper, and the ININ chiefs, without the luxury of procrastination, had pored over the Rico Parra papers. Sanderson Hooper briefed McKittrick and ventured the opinion that the papers were authentic.
The green phone to the White House was rung.
And aide tapped the President’s shoulder as he listened attentively to a world-renowned cellist in the East Room. At the end of the number, the President excused himself.
“McKittrick, Mr. President. I’m afraid I’ll have to see you tonight.”
The President glanced at his watch. “We’re midway in the concert. I can shake loose in forty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting in your office. It might be a good idea to have the Joint Chiefs stand by.”
“Right, Marsh, we’ll have them rounded up.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
André Devereaux received his own summons very late that night after a return from a formal dinner at the British Embassy. He arrived at Foggy Bottom in slacks, sport shirt, and loafers and was led directly to Nordstrom’s main conference room. The carnage of the day’s battle was in evidence: dishes of hastily eaten hamburgers and half emptied coffee cups and uncountable cigarette butts and stacks of notes and photographs still not assembled.
The three men remaining in the room were weary. Even the impeccably groomed Marshall McKittrick looked seedy.
“First, we want to thank you, André,” Michael Nordstrom said. “No need in repeating how important this is.”
Hooper sucked halfheartedly at an almost empty pipe. “We believe that the Rico Parra papers are authentic.”
“I felt they were authentic,” André agreed. “I couldn’t find a plant anywhere.”
“It is our conviction,” Hooper continued, “that the Soviet Union is up to something, very possibly the introduction of offensive missiles into Cuba.”
“That’s a very good bet,” André said.
“I met with the President a few hours ago,” McKittrick said. “He’s ordered a sharp increase in U-2 flights.”
“Of course, you are aware,” Hooper interjected, “of our routine U-2 activity over Cuba for the better part of a year. This Finca San José has been spotted in general terms. The Rico Parra papers mesh perfectly. Take a look here.”
Hooper’s aged hands spread a number of aerial reconnaissance photographs