The Argentine Triangle: A Craig Page Thriller (36 page)

Middleburg, Virginia

A
sleep in the master bedroom at the far end of the second floor, Bryce was awakened by the sound of a woman screaming. It was an awful, piercing yell that conveyed a combination of fear and terror. A desperate cry for help.

He shot upright in bed and tried to orient himself. Was he dreaming? The cry was coming from the far end of the corridor, from the guestroom Treadwell and Amy were using. He wasn’t dreaming. It was Amy who was screaming.

After glancing at the clock that showed it was 3:12 a.m., he jumped out of bed and ran down the hall in his pajamas. Amy was standing in front of the door to the guestroom, her robe open in front She looked like a wild woman, strands of hair flowing over her face. She held her arms high over her head and shrieked. “Help me. Somebody! Please! God, help me!”

Bryce heard noise on the stairs behind him. He whirled around and saw Dr. Lee, clutching her black doctor’s bag, and a military aide racing up from downstairs.

“Quick,” Amy cried out. “Come quick. It’s the president. He’s having an attack.”

Dr. Lee followed her into the bedroom with Bryce right behind. There, he saw Treadwell lying on the bed in obvious pain, moaning and gasping for breath. His right hand was in a tight fist against his chest. His skin color was gray, and he was drenched with sweat. Bryce was no doctor, but he was convinced Treadwell was having a heart attack.

Dr. Lee shouted to Amy, “Go into the bathroom. Get me one of his nitroglycerine tablets.”

While Amy ran off to retrieve the medicine, Bryce was staring at the celling wondering what all this meant for him.

He tried to focus on what was happening. Dr. Lee placed her ear against Treadwell’s mouth, listening for a breath. She then put her fingers on the side of Treadwell’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

“He has a pulse, but it’s thready,” the doctor said to Bryce. “Go get Cummings, a secret service agent. He’s had paramedic training. Tell him to bring me the oxygen and defibrillator. Also, tell him to have them rev up one of the choppers.”

Northern Argentina

“We can’t fly into Iguazu,” Rodriguez announced to Craig and Nicole from the cockpit over the plane’s PA system.

That brought the two of them racing forward into the cockpit. “Why the hell not?” Craig said.

“War’s broken out in the area. It’s too dangerous. Besides, my insurance won’t cover the plane for loss in a war.”

Craig pulled the gun out of his jacket pocket and shoved it against the back of the pilot’s head. “This trumps your insurance policy. We’re going to Iguazu. The plane’s staying on the ground until I locate and bring back another passenger. Then we’re returning to Buenos Aires. Now either you fly this plane or I do.”

Faced with silence from the pilot, Craig added, “When you think about your options, you better factor in that if I have to fly, when we reach Iguazu, I’ll put a bullet in your brain and leave your body to rot in the heat up there. Where I come from, that’s what we do to people who don’t keep their word.”

Rodriguez looked at Nicole with loathing. How could she have set him up with this lunatic? His whole body was trembling with fear. “No. No. I’ll fly.”

“Good. Now Nicole and I will go back there and sit down. I’ll be watching you with the gun in my hand. If you try to call anybody or you take this plane off course, I’ll be up here yanking you out of this seat so fast your head will spin.”

With that, Craig and Nicole returned to seats in the front of the passenger cabin. Through the open cockpit door he was watching Rodriguez, ready to spring forward as he had threatened. He handed the gun to Nicole. “Keep your eye on your buddy Rodriguez.”

Then he pulled out his cell phone and called Betty. There was no time to worry about a secure phone.

“The war has started,” he blurted out.

To his astonishment, the CIA director said, “I know it. General Forbes just called me. Our satellite photos establish an attack by Argentina along a broad front. They’ve destroyed most of Brazil’s Air Force on the ground. Their troops and tanks are advancing fast. Opposition is light.”

“That’s because Estrada made a deal with some of the Brazilian commanders to betray their government.” He pounded his fist against the seat. “Shit, that bastard Estrada will succeed.”

“Maybe not,” Betty said with conviction.

“You’re either dreaming, or you know something I don’t.”

“A lot’s happened here. This afternoon I made your case to Treadwell one-on-one. I gave him the Gestapo book and your transcripts.”

“And?” Craig held his breath.

“He made it clear to the presidents of both countries that if Argentina attacks and Brazil asks for our assistance, we’ll give them air support.”

“No shit. He really did that?”

“Treadwell is not a bad guy. He may have been a little blinded by Bryce, but that sometimes happens to all of us with people we like.”

“C’mon, Betty, the war’s started. What are we going to do?”

“General Forbes has an aircraft carrier offshore. We’re ready to move in with planes, helicopters, and the works. Only from the air. No ground troops. General Forbes has told all of this to the president of Brazil. It’s up to the Brazilians to call and ask for our help. We won’t act until we hear from them.”

“Well, they better call soon.”

“Where are you?”

“Nicole and I are en route to Iguazu.” Now that the war had started and the United States might intervene on the side of Brazil, time was of the essence. Quickly, he explained what happened to Gina. “I have to get her out of Estrada and Schiller’s hands before their world turns to crap, or they might just take it out on her.”

“Go to it,” Betty said and hung up.

He turned to Nicole. “How’s our friend Rodriguez doing?”

“From time to time he turns around and glares at me, but otherwise he’s sticking with our deal. By the way, I didn’t know you could fly a plane.”

He laughed softly and whispered in English, “I can’t.”

She shook her head. “So all Rodriguez had to do was hand you the controls. You’d have no choice but to let him fly us back to Buenos Aires.”

“You got it. Ever play poker?”

She handed him back his gun. “Okay, what happens when we land in Iguazu?”

“Change of plans,” he said. “Because of that prick Rodriguez, we can’t leave him alone with the plane while we go to find Gina or he’ll take off and fly out, which will leave the three of us stranded.”

Nicole shook her head. “I know where this is headed. That means one of us has to stay at the airport with Rodriguez and the plane. And I drew the short straw.”

“Or the long one, however you define it. Now tell me where the castle is and what the surrounding area looks like. I’ll have to move fast.”

Middleburg, Virginia

“What do you think, Doctor?” Bryce asked.

Dr. Lee glanced up from Treadwell’s sweating body at Bryce standing in the doorway to the bedroom. “No question about it. He’s had a massive heart attack.”

“Will he make it?”

“My guess is it’s about fifty-fifty. He’ll need an emergency cardiac catherization. I have him stable now, which is all I can do. We can’t start with a local hospital. We’ll get him in the chopper and take him to Bethesda Naval. I called and alerted them. The cath lab is standing by.”

Bryce admired Dr. Lee’s cool professional manner in dealing with the crisis. She directed two of the secret service men to place the president on a stretcher. The oxygen hook up and telemetry leads were maintained with great care. They navigated the staircase and took Treadwell out through the front door and across the lawn to the waiting helicopter. The military aide walked two steps behind.

Once Dr. Lee made certain the president was secure and the pilot ready to lift off, Bryce, standing close to the chopper, watched Dr. Lee remove the cell phone from her pocket. He heard the doctor in a steady voice call Don Caldwell, the president’s chief of staff, waking him up to state, “I regrettably must report to you that President Treadwell had a serious heart attack at 3:12 a.m. Twenty-three minutes ago. President Treadwell is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office. We’re about to take off by helicopter to Bethesda Naval.”

As Bryce watched the chopper lift off, he realized the significance of Dr. Lee’s call. The doctor was complying with strict protocol of the Twenty-fifth Amendment of the Constitution. The process had now been activated to ensure a proper transfer of authority to run the country. Bryce knew that protocol very well. Caldwell would now notify the president pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House. In a matter of minutes, Vice President Worth would be the acting president.

Twenty minutes later Bryce was standing on the porch of his house, staring into the dark sky. What a disaster. The last thing on his mind was Treadwell. He was thinking about himself. His whole life was about to become unhinged. He was now being tossed around in the middle of a vortex.

Behind him, Bryce heard the phone ringing. That snapped him back to reality. He ran into the living room and picked it up. It was General Forbes, telling Bryce, “I have the Brazilian president and the chief of staff of their armed forces holding on another line. They’ve been trying unsuccessfully to reach President Treadwell. I’ve learned from the president’s secretary that he’s with you.”

Bryce hesitated for an instant. He had to find out what was happening so he could decide how to play it. “That’s right,” he said, “but the president can’t come to the phone right now. Tell me what the question is, and I’ll take it to him.”

“Satellite photos confirm that Argentina has attacked. Brazil wants our air support. The president told me this afternoon that’s what he intended to do in this situation. I just want to make sure that’s still his decision.”

Bryce gripped the phone hard. Running through his mind was the indisputable fact that whether Treadwell lived or died, Bryce was finished as a player in Washington. If Worth became the president, Bryce would be faced with a criminal prosecution because the vice president was so close with Betty. Even if Treadwell made it back to the White House, a referral to the attorney general of Bryce’s conduct was possible. But in Argentina he would have a future with Estrada. And with Gina. Beautiful, sensuous Gina.

It was the moment of truth. The golden ring was there. He either had the guts to seize it, or he didn’t.

“Wait a moment,” Bryce told General Forbes. “I’ll go and ask the president.”

Bryce cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, while he watched the sweep second hand of his Rolex make a full revolution. Then he picked up the phone.

“The president asked me to tell you, ‘Do not,’ and he emphasized, ‘underline the word ‘not,’ take any action to assist Brazil against Argentina.’”

“But …” a stunned Forbes stammered. “I don’t understand.”

Bryce knew that Forbes was aware of the close relationship between Bryce and the president. He wouldn’t dare challenge Bryce.

“Treadwell is the boss,” Bryce said.

“I guess so,” Forbes replied in abject resignation. “I’ll tell the president of Brazil we won’t do anything to help them.”

“That’s what President Treadwell wants,” Bryce replied and he hung up.

As he turned away from the phone, Bryce noticed Amy sitting in the middle of the stairs in a bathrobe. She must have been listening to his phone conversation.

Bryce pointed a bony finger in Amy’s direction and narrowed his eyes. Through clenched teeth, he told her, “You better forget that you heard anything I said, or …” He paused for a minute to make certain he had her attention. “Or I’ll go to the
Washington Post
and
New York Times
with the story of your relationship with the president. I’ll make sure they drag you through the mud. For the rest of your life, you’ll be known as Treadwell’s little whore. Your life will be ruined. Now get dressed and get the hell out of my house.”

“Screw you,” Amy shouted.

She shot him a look of contempt and walked back up the stairs.

Bryce grabbed his cell phone and called American Airlines. “I want the next flight from Washington to Miami and connecting there to Buenos Aires.”

As he waited for the ticket agent to come back to him with the information, through the corner of his eye he noticed Amy was staring at him from the top of the stairs.

Northern Argentina

C
raig had an incoming call from Betty.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“In the air, about thirty minutes from landing in Iguazu, which is on the Argentine border with Brazil. Hell of a sound and light show from up here. Explosions everywhere off in the east. It looks like Argentina’s on the move. In some sectors, the Brazilians must be firing back, but from up here it looks like Argentina’s already deep into Brazilian territory.”

“Things may be changing soon.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, now hopeful.

“Treadwell had a heart attack.”

“Holy shit!”

“He’s at Bethesda Naval for surgery. The doctors are saying it’s fifty-fifty on his survival. Vice President Worth is now the acting president. But there’s one nasty little wrinkle.”

“What’s that?”

“Treadwell was spending the night at Bryce’s Middleburg house. I received a call from Amy, the president’s speechwriter, who was also there. She told me that Treadwell had his heart attack at 3:12 a.m. Dr. Lee, the president’s physician, set in motion the Constitutional transfer of power at 3:35 a.m. Worth was acting president a few minutes later. Then, at 3:55 a.m. General Forbes, who was unaware of the president’s heart attack, received a call from the Brazilian president asking for our help. He learned from the president’s secretary that Treadwell was at Bryce’s Middleburg house. That bastard Bryce, purporting to relay a message from the president, told Forbes to reject the Brazilian’s request for help.”

Craig blew a long, low whistle. “That sounds like a criminal offense to me.”

“Absolutely. We’re moving up on it right now.”

“How about help for Brazil?”

“As soon as I got off the phone with Amy I called Worth. US planes should be in the air momentarily.”

“That’s a relief,” Craig cried.

He was racing against time to get Gina out of Iguazu before Estrada’s world collapsed and he turned on her—if she was still alive.