Strategic Moves

FORTY

At eight o’clock sharp on Monday morning Stone’s doorbell rang, and he admitted Pablo. Holding a finger to his lips, he walked his client through the kitchen and out to the back garden.

“What’s up?” Pablo asked.

“The whole house is wired for pictures and sound. I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes without their seeing or hearing us.”

“All right.”

Stone showed him the device Cantor had left him. “I’ve installed my own system, parallel to theirs, and something else, as well. If I need to talk to you without being seen or overheard, all I have to do is press this button, and their system won’t see or hear anything.”

“I want one of these,” Pablo said, fingering the device. “Can you get me one?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Stone said. “I’ve learned over the weekend that the Manhattan District Attorney is aware of our meetings with Lance and believes he may be able to develop cases from what you have to say.”

“That’s very unlikely,” Pablo said. “I have been very careful not to conduct business in the United States that might result in the breaking of U.S. law.”

“Fine, I just wanted you to know. Another thing: I think we may want to conclude these meetings earlier than Lance believes we will. I’m thinking, before noon on Thursday.”

“That’s fine with me,” Pablo said.

“Can you drop off the grid for a few days or weeks afterward?”

“I can.”

“Then, when I decide the time is right for that—and this is after you’ve given them their bonus—I’ll say something to the effect that I want a break, because I don’t want to tire you out.”

“All right.”

Stone explained to Pablo what to do in that eventuality.

“Thank you, Stone; I’m grateful.”

“After that, call me only on my cell phone from another cell phone, one with the GPS chip removed.”

“I have such a phone,” Pablo said. He took a notepad from his pocket and scribbled something. “Here is the number.”

Stone entered the number into his cell phone, under the first name he thought of, which was Willa Crane. “Okay, let’s get some breakfast.” They went into the kitchen, where Helena whipped up something for them.

Shortly after nine the doorbell rang, and Joan, who had been warned about the recording system, let Lance and his group in and led them to the dining room, where breakfast had been laid out on the sideboard. Pablo remained in the kitchen.

Lance, Holly, and Todd Bacon made up the CIA interrogation team, and there were two technicians with them to operate the video and audio equipment.

Everyone sat down at the table and had some breakfast.

“Where is our guest?” Lance asked.

“He will join us when we’re ready to begin,” Stone said.

When the dishes had been taken away, Joan brought in Pablo, seated him at the center of the table, next to Stone and directly across from Lance, who had Holly and Todd on either side.

“Good morning, Pablo,” Lance said. “I believe you’ve met every-one.”

“I have,” Pablo replied. “Good morning to you all.”

“Are you ready to begin?” Lance asked.

“I am.”

Stone nodded to Joan, who took a seat and opened a steno pad.

“I would just like to make a comment before we start,” Pablo said.

“Please go ahead.”

“As I have told Stone, during my career in the arms trade I have taken great care not to violate the laws of the United States, so it will be a waste of time for you to attempt to trap me into an admission of that sort.”

“I see,” Lance replied.

Stone spoke up. “Do you have the documents we requested?” he asked Lance.

Lance opened his briefcase, which was on the table, and handed Stone two envelopes. “There you are. Please feel free to examine them.”

Stone opened the two envelopes and found Lance’s letter to him, along with the attorney general’s, both retyped exactly as he had written them and both signed and notarized. Stone showed them to Pablo, then tucked them into his inside jacket pocket.

“I’ll make copies for you later,” he said to Pablo. “Now, Lance, we may begin.”

Lance stated the date and time and recited the names of those present, for the benefit of the recordings. “During these proceedings, Mr. Gelbhardt will be addressed as Pablo, which is his preference. First question, Pablo: Please tell us how you left the federal courthouse, where you went, and what you did there?”

Pablo took a sip of his coffee. “After the attorneys had completed their closing statements and the jury had been removed from the courtroom, I went to the men’s room on the floor below, where a briefcase had been left for me with a change of clothing and a disguise, consisting of a wig and a false beard. I changed, applied the disguise, then took the elevator to the basement garage, walked outside, took a taxi to New Jersey, where, by previous arrangement, I boarded a cargo ship which had completed its lading and which sailed as soon as I came aboard.

“I was shown to a comfortable cabin and was given a Merchant Marine uniform and introduced to the crew as a company inspector, along for the ride. The vessel sailed to Oran, in Algeria, where I left it and, using three taxis, went to a private clinic on the south side of the city.

“There I underwent some cosmetic surgery procedures—I had never liked my nose or my chin very much, you see—and I spent another ten days there, recuperating. I was issued a legal Algerian passport during that time and acquired other identification documents. After that I proceeded to Malta, then to Italy, and finally to Spain, where I purchased a small villa on four acres in Marbella.”

“Did you do any business during your time in Algeria?” Lance asked.

“No, I devoted myself to recovery from surgery and to arranging identity documents.”

“And what did you do when you arrived in Spain?”

“I had already learned of my acquittal in New York, which came later in the same day I departed, so through my tax attorney in New York, I contacted the Internal Revenue Service and negotiated a settlement for any past taxes due and a declaration that I was no longer in violation of United States tax law.” Pablo took a document from his pocket and handed it to Lance. “Here is a copy of that document, signed by the director of Internal Revenue at that time.”

Lance read the document aloud for the benefit of the taping system. “And so you were made clean under U.S. law?”

“Yes,” Pablo replied, “and I have remained so.” He smiled slightly. “Although I recognize that I may have a traffic violation to deal with in the State of New York with regard to my operation of an automobile there.”

Stone allowed himself a chuckle, while everyone else looked uncomfortable. He began to relax; Pablo was doing just fine.