Love in the Time of Spies - 9
He got General Santamar�a�s secretary on the phone � an accomplishment in itself. He identified himself, something she already knew because he had gone through three sub-secretaries to get to her. She told him (naturally) that the General was in a meeting, and asked what the subject of his need to speak to him was. �De qu� asunto es?� a perennial question in the Spanish language business and political worlds. Jacks told her to please announce him, that the subject was confidential and extremely urgent. She told him to hold. It seemed like a half-hour, but was probably only a few minutes later that General Santamar�a came on the line. She probably had to wake him up.
�Yes, Mr. Hacks, how are you and what can I do for you?�
You might think that Jacks should have just gone to his office and barged in. But you would be wrong. That would have been an inexcusable lack of etiquette in dealing with a person of his self-esteem. Furthermore, he wouldn�t have gotten past the guards on the ground floor. Jacks told him that he had to see him immediately, that the future of his airline and the nation was at stake. He implied it at least.
�Well, let me see�� the general began as though looking through his appointments schedule.
�I�m across the street, General, if you�ll advise the guards I can be in your office in two minutes.� This was unheard of, but as the fog dissipated from his brain he was remembering that Jacks knew something which he didn�t want anyone else to know. �Bueno,� he growled, �make it five,� and slammed down the receiver.
Jacks left the public phone booth and sprinted down Avenida Col�n. The guards asked for his ID, frisked him and let him ride up to the fifth floor in the elevator, but not alone; one of them accompanied him. They were exceedingly polite, figuring that anyone important enough to be seeing the General must have at least some residual importance. Santamar�a kept him waiting fifteen minutes, something important people always do. The waiting calmed Jacks though, and he was prepared to say what he had to say.
General Santamar�a sat behind his enormous desk smoking a Havana cigar and wishing that Jacks wasn�t there. Jacks told him that the S.I.D.E. had fucked up by arresting Frau Marie and hubby because he was just about to get really top secret information from her for the CIA that would deal the Commies a blow they wouldn�t recover from that millennium, if ever. Yes, he was undercover CIA. What he didn�t mention, but was lurking in the noxious air, was that he still knew about the free tickets the general gave to his girlfriends. He listened pulling on his earlobe and scratching his balls and when Jacks finished he said, �Those guys (meaning S.I.D.E.) think they own the country,� He thought a moment, then added, �Call me in an hour � at this number, from a pay phone.� He scribbled a number on a slip of paper and handed it to Jacks. �Mil gracias, General,� Jacks mumbled as he backed out half-bowing.
Jacks walked around close to the Plaza de Mayo telephone center during that interminable hour. When he called Santamar�a, he said, �Well Se�or Hacks, she�s out, but they wouldn�t release the husband, he�s a KGB officer. Anyway, they did me the favour. I hope it helps you.� Meaning that Jacks owed him now. Jacks tried to control his elation, and assured the general that it would help. Was he glad that her husband hadn�t been released? Yes. Did he feel guilty about it? No.
Jacks decided to call from the same phone booth first Die Glocke, then her home, although he doubted that she�d be either place so soon. Then, if there was no answer, he�d go to his house, where she�d be looking for her daughter � and maybe even him. But she answered from Die Glocke after the first ring.
�I�d like to make a reservation for tonight,� he said in German.
�I�m sorry but we�re closed tonight,� she answered.
�This is Marvin Jacks.� They�d be expecting him to contact her anyway; now they�d have to record the conversation and find someone to translate it, which would cause at least a short delay. �In that case perhaps we could go some place together for dinner.�
�Yes, that would be nice, Herr Jacks.�
�But you�ll probably want to go home first to change.�
�That would be a good idea�er, do you know where my daughter is?�
�Yes, of course. I�ll bring her with me in, say, an hour? Oh, and I thought we might go to the seashore for the weekend. What do you think about that?�
�Yes. Thank you very much.�
�Good, then you can pack some things for Micaela and yourself.�
�Yes.�
�See you in an hour then.�
�Yes.�
Jacks wanted her to pick up their passports, but didn�t dare mention it on the phone. He went home, threw a few things in an overnight bag, put his passport in his breast pocket and strapped a 22 pistol around his ankle. If they ever got on an airplane he�d have to ditch it, but he wouldn�t be needing it by then anyway. Then he went to the neighbor�s, the Altmann�s, to get Micaela. She was sitting at a table in the patio under the grapevines drawing a picture with colored crayons. It was such a peaceful setting that he experienced a tinge of doubt as to whether he should take her away from such safety into the dangerous situation her mother and he were about to face. But it wasn�t for him to decide. If Rachel wanted to leave her, which he doubted, they could always stop by to drop her off before leaving for good.
�What are you drawing, Mica?� he asked her.
�Hola, Marvin.� (He hadn�t told her his name, she must have asked Frau Altmann, who probably was surprised that she didn�t know it.) �Don�t you see? It�s an angel.� Indeed it was.
�Yes, I see, and a beautiful one at that.� You�ll need him now, he thought, we all will.
�Let�s go, we�re going to pick up your mam�.�
She dropped the crayon and jumped up. �Is she all right?�
�Sure she is. Why do you ask?�
�I don�t know, she�s been kind of nervous lately.�
�Will Micaela be coming back here?� Frau Altmann asked. �She�s a delightful child and we�re glad to have her.�
Jacks hated to lie to that kind lady, but had no choice. �Yes,� he said, �We�re just going to Mar del Plata for the weekend.�
Rachel was ready to go when they got to her house. �I only packed a few things,� she said, still speaking in German, as though it were a continuation of their telephone conversation, probably because of the possibility that her house was bugged, �for the weekend.�
�Yes, that�s fine.� Jacks took a pen from his pocket and signalled for paper, then wrote, in English, passports? She nodded
They left the house smiling (on Jacks� instructions) with Micaela between them. Jacks opened the Mitsubishi�s doors and looked to the front, nothing, and behind. There it was � a green Ford Falcon with three goons in it. He had a crazy impulse to take out the 22 and shoot at them. Are they stupid or are they stupid? It was a dead giveaway that they were being followed. Well, maybe they didn�t care about that. But that car was the fastest tractor on the road and he could easily lose it. Now they�d have to head south towards the seashore, instead of north to freedom.
An hour later they were on the highway approaching Chascomus, a sleepy town almost halfway to Mar del Plata. There was, as usual, a lot of Friday afternoon traffic. Jacks gunned the Mitsubishi and left the Falcon way behind. He knew the road well and after a curve he pulled off the highway into Chascomus, went through the town and got onto a secondary road going back north. It was slower and they probably could have gone back to the highway, but why take a chance. What if they�d been seen pulling off and the cops were already watching for them in both directions? There were police controls on the highways, but very few on secondary roads. It took them two hours dodging potholes to get back to Buenos Aires, skirt around it and continue north. It was dark by then and it had already been a long day.
The moon was full though, or almost full. It occurred to Jacks that the moon would be full regardless of what happened to them, whether they escaped and lived happily ever after, or were captured, tortured and killed. That selfish moon, like Rhett Butler, doesn�t give a damn. Is death like that or is it alive like the sun and the stars? Jacks glanced to his right at his companion, who had been silent for a while, and saw that she was asleep, mouth slightly open, eyelids fluttering. �Frau Marie, Anneliese, Rachel � who cares about your name,� he whispered, �I love you, and I�ll tell you so when you�re awake,� although he knew he wouldn�t, not yet. He wasn�t so sure.
They drove all night on flat, bumpy secondary roads, through somnolent towns. Rachel took over the wheel for the last two hundred kilometres while Jacks tried to sleep. Micaela had no problem sleeping all night in the back seat. At sunrise they entered the border village of Puerto Iguaz�, squeezed onto a narrow tongue of land between Brazil and Paraguay. They stopped and got coffee and stale croissants at a gas station caf�. While tanking up Jacks asked the attendant for directions to Foz do Iguaz�, Brazil.
�You�re going to Ciudad del Este, I bet,� the attendant said with a toothless smile. Jacks confirmed that they were, although they were going farther than that, to the capital city of Asunci�n where there was an international airport.
�The immigration assholes probably won�t be awake yet, so you can probably get by without a tip. I don�t know about the Paraguayan ones though, they�re hungrier.� Jacks had been to Asunci�n several times, but never to the infamous �triple frontier� where Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay meet. He knew, however, that Paraguay is the contraband capital of the world, where you can buy anything tax-free and stolen. Most of the new cars stolen in Brazil and Argentina � and they are legion � wind up in Paraguay, where you can buy them at cut-rate prices in police stations. Hundreds of pedestrians and cars cross the bridges every day to shop and the border police and immigration officials are well paid to keep the traffic moving, not to intercept thieves and smugglers, who are welcome. And it was the perfect place for fugitives, like them, to leave Argentina.
As they approached the bridge over the Rio Paran� to Foz do Iguaz�, they saw that the gas station attendant was right � not an immigration soul in sight, so they drove over to Brazil. A half hour later they were at the next bridge over the same river, already full of cars and pedestrians crossing without the immigration people, who were ensconced in the booths slurping mate, paying no attention to them. On the other side was Paraguay. Rachel put her hand on his arm and said, �Stop for a minute, Marvin.� He pulled over to the side of the road. �They�re not stamping passports,� she said.
�No, not even looking at them,� he replied.��
�Yes, but if we intend to fly out of here we have to show our foreign passports that have no entry stamps.�
�We can say we came in here, over the bridge.�
�I know something about this place, Marvin,� she said. Micaela was listening carefully to this serious conversation. �Remember my real profession.� Her real profession, spy, wasn�t something she wanted her daughter to hear.
�Go on,� he said.
�This bridge is for people who cross with or without documents and who leave the same way at the same place. Air travel is different. They won�t let us leave without entry stamps.� She paused, waiting for a reaction.������������� ��������������
His head was empty. �So what do we do?�
�We ask the immigration guy to stamp us in, that like most tourists we like stamps in our passports.�
Jacks nodded, then said, �But what if they�re looking for us?�
�The Paraguayans won�t be � not yet at least, I hope.�
�Okay, it�s worth the risk�, he said. �Give me your passports.�
She didn�t move.
�Rachel?�
�I think it would be better if you gave me yours. I�ll go in with Micaela. You stay in the car sulking because you think it�s silly to waste time for stamps. That�s what I�ll tell him.�
It was obvious that she could charm the pants off any macho, so he nodded approval and handed her his passport. She put a twenty dollar bill inside it. They drove past the Brazilian immigration booth and stopped at the Paraguayan one fifty yards further on. Rachel and Micaela got out of the car and walked in. Jacks watched her smiling at the guard and explaining, then pointing to him with a laugh. He scowled appropriately. The guard had stood up politely. He was talking now, and pointing back at the Brazilian side. Rachel looked serious. She shook her head and pointed at Jacks again. She picked up the passports and came back to the car clutching Micaela�s hand. She leaned into the window.
�He said he couldn�t stamp us in without a Brazilian stamp and for that we�d have to have an Argentine one stamping us out,� she whispered. �He said we should go back and get the Brazilian and Argentine stamps first. I said you were already angry and I didn�t want to infuriate you, but that I�d ask you.�
Jacks� brain started working again. �I don�t think it�s good idea.�
�Nor do I.�
�Get in and let�s get out of here.�
Rachel turned back to the guard, shook her head, shrugged her shoulders and got back into the car with Micaela.�
�Have a good visit to Paraguay,� the guard called out, happy to have earned twenty bucks for nothing. After she and Micaela were in the car Jacks drove off after wiping the sweat off his hands on his trousers.
�It�s suspicious,� he said.
�Yes, but he�s an idiot.�
�But what do we do now without entry stamps?�
�I know a place in Asunci�n where we can get passports,� she said calmly.�
�With different names? Great!� Jacks said, thinking that the Paraguayan airport police, also servants of a dictatorship, would be more efficient and might already have their names.�
Following Rachel�s directions, Jacks drove to a slum section of Asunci�n and stopped at what looked like an oversized box made of rusty corrugated tin. They got out of the car and Micaela held her mother�s hand as they walked into the box without knocking. A skinny guy was working on a lathe so didn�t hear them come in until they were almost past him. Then he turned off the lathe, stepped in front of Rachel, who was in the lead, and said �Se�ora?�
�We�re going to see Augusto,� she said.
�Ah, is he expecting you?�
�No, just tell him that Marie from Buenos Aires is here.�
�Marie who?�
�Tell him,� she replied with an authority that surprised both the skinny guy and Jacks. He turned and walked to the far end of the box, about ten yards away, and knocked � two shorts and a long � and entered. They waited two minutes and the door opened and Augusto came out with a big smile on his fat face. He was wearing a tie and jacket, which he had probably just put on because the shirt under it was soaked with sweat, while the jacket was fresh.
�Se�ora Marie!� he gushed in Spanish, such a pleasure to see you again.� He took her hand and kissed it, must have seen that in a movie. He patted Micaela�s head, looked at Jacks, then inquiringly at Rachel. �Un amigo,� she said.
�Ah. Well, please come into my den, said the fly to the spider.� He laughed alone at his own joke and led the way back to the den, a luxuriously appointed office in fact. He sat behind an oak desk and motioned for them to sit. Rachel remained standing, so Jacks did as well.
�We need three passports, Augusto,� she said, �pronto!�
His smile vanished. Business. �I see. For you three?�
�Yes.�
�When?�
�Yesterday.�
�Any particular nationality?
�What do you have?�
�Paraguayan, of course, then �let me think�German?�
�German will do.�
�I don�t have a child�s passport though.� Silence. So they were stolen passports and all he changed were the photographs. �But I may be able to get one. Wait.� He picked up his phone and pressed a button on the console, then spoke in a language Jacks guessed was Arabic. It took quite a while, but when he hung up he smiled his cheesy smile and said, �No hay problema.�
�When will they be ready?� Rachel asked.
�After the photos, about an hour. You realize of course that the child�s passport will cost a bit more because��
�The same price as always, Augusto, if you want to keep dealing with us.� Cold � she really didn�t like this guy, which was easy to understand.
Augusto scowled, but said, �I will make the sacrifice for a lady.� He stood up with some effort and pulled back a curtain at one side of the office. �You first, young lady,� he said to Micaela, who looked at her mother. Rachel nodded and the child stood against a cream-colored plaque against the wall. Augusto snapped her picture and then the others.
�Deliver them to us at the airport,� Rachel said, forcing a smile. �We�ll pay the messenger. He�ll know us by the photos�
�As you wish, Se�ora Marie�, Augusto said. �Oh, by the way, I have the new passports here for your two friends, Barkarian and Wilson.� He opened a drawer in his desk and took out an envelope. "Do you want to take them with you or shall I send them?"
�Send them the usual way,� Rachel said.
�Why don�t we take them with us?� Jacks said in German. �It�s faster and safer.� Augusto may or may not have understood him, but in any case he sounded like a boss from East Germany, he hoped.
She looked at him, surprised, and said. �Ja, nat�rlich.� Jacks held out his hand to Augusto. He looked at Rachel, who nodded, and he gave Jacks the envelope.
While they were driving to the airport, she asked, �Why do you want us to take those passports?�
�Who are they?� he asked.
�Couriers, of no importance.�
�We may be able to use them, you never know.�
��How much will the passports cost?� Jacks asked her once they got to the airport and saw that there was a Lineas A�reas Paraguayas flight leaving in two hours for Miami.
�A thousand dollars a piece.�
He whistled. �Do we have that much?�
�Maybe, but I have no intention of paying that bastard Augusto that much.�
�How will we get the passports then?
�You�ll see, come on.�
She went to the currency exchange booth and changed a hundred dollar bill for small denominations, mostly singles. She bought a large envelope, put hundreds at both ends and singles and fives between them and sealed the envelope with strong glue.
�Won�t the messenger check?� Jacks asked her.
�I don�t think so. We�ll soon see.�
He didn�t. It was a kid who came on a motorbike. They were sitting near the entrance so he spotted them right away. �Se�ora Mar�a?� he asked.
�Rachel held out her hand and the boy put an envelope into it. She handed him the other envelope and a ten dollar bill. �For you,� she said. �Gracias, se�ora,� he said smiling, put the envelope in his backpack and sped off. They looked at the passports. Rachel and Jacks were Herr and Frau M�ller and Micaela was Inge Schulz.
Rachel looked at Jacks. �Mein Gott, your passport name is different from your credit card name.�
Jacks smiled. �No hay problema.� He took the passports and strolled over to the L.A.P. ticket counter. After waiting for the ticket agent to finish with a passenger, he handed her the three passports and his credit card. �I want tickets for these three passengers, Miami, one-way, open.� She would have to think he was some kind of unofficial travel agent and there was no law against buying tickets for clients. She made an imprint of the credit card, wrote out the tickets (L.A.P. couldn�t afford machines, apparently), he signed and said, �Oh, what�s the phone number of reservations again?�
�I can make the reservations for you,� she said.
�Yes, but this is for future reference, I�m travelling too and forgot my address book.� She wrote the number on a slip of paper. �Gracias,� he said. �Gracias a Ud., se�or.�
He strolled over to the telephone booths, which were all occupied. He waited. Finally a woman came out of one wiping her eyes. He dialled the number the clerk had given him and asked for three seats on the flight leaving in one hour for Miami. She asked if they could make it to the airport in time. Yes, he said, we�re very close. Reservations confirmed. He beckoned Rachel and Micaela over and they checked in for the flight. The agent checked her computer, revalidated their tickets and asked about baggage. Only carry-on, Jacks said. Unusual, but so what. �Let�s get through immigration before Augusto comes looking for us,� he said to Rachel.
