The actors in the drama were strong men with definite and often conflicting viewpoints. Victory came easy, but defeat smoldered.
The President shifted the agenda. "any late word on Mexico?"
"The situation is uncomfortably quiet," answered Brogan. "No demonstrations, no rioting. Topiltzin appears to be playing the same waiting game as his brother."
The President looked up, puzzled. "Did I hear you correctly? You said
'brother'?"
Brogan tilted his head toward Nichols. "Dale made a good call. Yazid and Topiltzin are brothers who are neither Egyptian nor Mexican by birth."
"You've definitely proven a family connection?" Schiller interrupted in astonishment. "You have proof?"
"Our operatives obtained and matched their genetic codes."
"This is the first I've heard about it," said a stunned President. "You should have informed me sooner."
"The final documentation is still being evaluated and will be sent over from Langley shortly. I'm sorry, Mr. President. At the risk of sounding overly cautious, I didn't want to throw out such a shocking discovery until we had gathered solid evidence."
"How in hell did you get their genetic codes?" asked Nichols.
"Both those guys are vain promoters," explained Brogan. "Our forgery department sent a Koran to Yazid, and a photograph to Topiltzin showing him in full Aztec regalia, along with requests begging them in each to inscribe a short prayer on both items and return them. Actually, it was a bit more complicated, writing the requests in the handwriting of known adoring followers-influential followers with financial and political clout, I might add. Both fell for it. The tricky part was intercepting the return mail before it reached the correct addresses. The next problem was sifting out the several sets of fingerprints which accompanied each object. Aides, secret agents, whoever. One thumbprint on the Koran matched with a known set of Yazid's prints that were on file with Egyptian police when he was arrested several years ago. We then traced his DNA from his fingerprint oils.
"Topiltzin was not so easy. He had no record in Mexico, but the lab matched his code to his brother's from prints pulled from the photo.
Then a chance find in the international criminal records at Interpol's Pahs headquarters dealt us a straight flush. It all came together. What we'd stumbled on was a family organization, a crime dynasty that arose after World War Two. A billion-dollar empire ruled by a mother and father, five brothers and a sister, who spearhead the operations, and run by a network of uncles, aunts, cousins, or whoever is related by blood or marriage. This tight association has made it nearly impossible for international investigators to penetrate. "
Except for the click of the teletype machines and the hushed murmur of aides, a stunned silence settled over the table. Brogan looked from Nichols to Schiller to Oates to the President.
"Their name?" the President asked softly.
"Capesterre," answered Brogan. "Roland and Josephine Capesterre are the father and mother. Their eldest son is Robert, or, as we know him, Topiltzin. The next brother in line is Paul. "
"He's Yazid?"
"Yes."
"I think we'd be interested in hearing all you know," said the President.
"As I've stated," said Brogan, "I don't have all the facts at my fingertips, such as the whereabouts of Karl and Marie, the younger brother and sister, or the names of associate relatives. We've only scratched the surface. from what I recall, the Capesterres are a tradition-bound criminal family that began almost eighty years ago when the grandfather emigrated from France to the Caribbean and launched a smuggling business, moving stolen goods and bootleg booze to the U.S.
during Prohibition. At first he operated out of Port of Spain, Trinidad, but as he prospered he bought a small nearby island and set up business there. Roland took over when the old man died, and along with his wife, Josephine-some claim she's the brain behind the throne-lost no time in expanding into drug traffic-First they built their island into a legitimate banana plantation, making a nice, honest profit. Next they turned inventive and made a real killing by harvesting two crops. The second, marijuana, was cultivated under the banana trees, to avoid detection. They also set up a refining lab on the island. Have I painted a clear picture?"
"Yes . . ." the President said slowly. "We all see it clearly. Thank you, Martin."
"They had it all worked out," murmured Schiller. "The Capesterres produced, manufactured and smuggled in one efficient operation."
"And distributed," Brogan continued. "But interestingly, not in the U.S. They sold the dnigs only in Europe and the Far East."
"Are they still into narcotics?" asked Nichols.
"No." Brogan shook his head. ' enough contacts, they received a tip their private island was about to be raided by the joint West Indies security forces. The family burned the marijuana crop, kept the banana plantation and began buying controlling interests in financially shaky corporations. They became extremely successful in turning businesses around and showing staggering profits. Of course, their unusual method of management might have had something to do with it."
Nichols took the hook. "What was their system?"
Brogan grinned. "The Capesterres relied on blackmail, extortion and murder. any time a competing company got in the way, the corporate executive officers, for some strange reason, initiated merger negotiations with the Capesteffe interests, losing their collective asses on the deal, naturally. Developers who hindered projects, opposing lawyers with lawsuits, unfriendly politicians, they all came to know and love the Capesterres, or one sunny day their wives and kids had accidents, their houses burned to the ground or they just up and vanished."
"Kind of like the Mafia managing General Motors or Gulf and Western,"
said the President sardonically.
"A fair comparison." Brogan nodded politely and continued. "Now the family controls a vast worldwide conglomeration of financial and industrial enterprises worth an estimated twelve billion dollars."
"Billion, as spelled with a 'b'?" Oates mumbled incredulously. "I may never attend church services again."
Schiller shrugged wonderingly. "Who said crime doesn't pay?"
"No wonder they're pulling the strings in Egypt and Mexico," said Oates.
"They must have bought, blackmailed or strong-armed their way into every department of the government and military. "
"I begin to see how their scheme is coming together," said the President. "But what I can't understand is how can the sons pass themselves off as native-born Egyptians or Mexicans? No one can fool millions of people without somebody getting wise."
"Their mother was descended from black slaves, which accounts for their dark skin," Brogan said in a patiently explaining tone. "We can only speculate about their past. Roland and Josephine must have laid the groundwork forty or more years ago. As their children were born, they began a vigorous program of making over the boys into foreign nationals.
Paul was no doubt tutored in Arabic before he could walk, while Robert learned to speak in ancient Aztec. When the boys became older they probably attended private schools in both Mexico and Egypt under assumed names."