Topaz - Leon Uris [75]
Brigitte Camus entered André’s office, stopped before his desk. He glanced up to his secretary, a woman obviously filled with displeasure.
“Has the courier arrived from Havana?”
“Yes,” she answered, “he is on the way in from the airport. He’ll be at the Chancellery at any time.” She continued her display of annoyance by slapping an airline ticket on his desk loudly.
André pretended to be unaware and examined his round-trip ticket from Washington to Miami. “If all goes well,” he said, “I’ll be back at my desk in seventy-two hours.”
“If all goes well,” she snapped.
Brigitte Camus had been a most dedicated, closemouthed and loyal associate. In the decade of their relationship she was party to most plans, undertook important responsibility, and on occasion André even sought out her advice.
On rarer occasions, Brigitte Camus volunteered advice whether it was solicited or not.
“You will kindly not hover over my desk,” André said.
“Before you fire me,” she always opened such conversations, “I have something to say and I intend to say it.”
André flipped his pen down, took off his glasses, and leaned back in his leather chair resignedly. “In that case, you might as well sit down and be comfortable.”
Brigitte remained standing. “It is dangerous for you to go back into Cuba.”
“What makes you think I’m going into Cuba?”
“Why haven’t we contacted any one of a dozen agents in the Florida area who could go in and bring Juanita de Córdoba out? How about Pepe Vimont?”
“Perhaps I plan to speak to Pepe in Miami. Did that occur to you? Did it occur to you I might just want to be present when the boat returns?”
“You may be the best intelligence man in the world but to me you are a very bad liar. And you know full well that a man in your position does not take part in these operations. It violates every rule in the business.”
He was properly exposed. No use to try to fool this woman. “For years,” André said softly, “I have planned operations and rotted inside ... waiting. There have been times, you know them, when I have sent men and women to their death. What if I had been there in place of them? I could have come through it every time. Brigitte,” he continued with uncommon familiarity, “Brigitte, this once I must do it myself. If anything should go wrong. If she is lost and I’m not there ... then maybe I wouldn’t want to go on, myself.”
Brigitte’s anger softened to pity. “I’ll have to understand, Monsieur Devereaux.”
“The Ambassador is not to know.”
“Yes.” She began to leave, then stopped. “There is another letter on my desk from Madame Devereaux. This time she addressed the outer envelope to me and pleaded that you do not return it unopened as you have the others. Before you go to Miami, please read it.”
“No.”
“If anything should happen, please don’t leave her with an unopened letter.”
“She left me with cause. It still exists. I will not be a hypocrite so long as the most important thing in my life is to get Juanita de Córdoba out of Cuba. I know we’re star-crossed but I can’t stop this illusion of mine of a life with her ....”
“And if the illusion dies?”
“Why should Nicole be the butt of my folly? She’s still young and handsome enough to make for herself the kind of life she can deal with.”
“Don’t you know that Nicole will take you back on any terms and she’ll be damned lucky.”
“Return the letter.”
Brigitte shook her head. “How can such a wise man be such a fool?”
“I have dealt in logic all my life. This time I intend to be a complete fool.”
The secretary from the message center knocked and entered. Brigitte signed for a bundle of letters. She fingered through them quickly, found the courier message from Alain Adam in Havana and zipped it open.
André adjusted his glasses.
MY DEAR ANDRÉ,
I am sorry our telephone