Read Online The Argentine Triangle: A Craig Page Thriller by Allan Topol - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Allan Topol
Tags: Bisac Code: FIC006000
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had often heard from judges who wanted to make it clear to a lawyer that the argument was over.
Six months later, zinger number two flew in when a young reporter for La Nación in Buenos Aires showed up in the reception area at his law firm without an appointment and camped out until he would give her an interview. Bryce had planned to tell the reporter he was too busy, until he saw her sitting patiently with pen and notebook in hand, a beautiful, demure, virginal-looking, sensuous woman in a smartly tailored gray suit. Perhaps it was the fact that since Claire’s departure he had little time or occasion to be with women other than in meetings, or perhaps he was just tired of working and wanted a change. Who knows why he said to Gina Galindo, “C’mon. I’ll take you out to lunch. We can do the interview there.”
He never expected they would hit it off so well. Bryce had no doubt that she liked him as much as he did her. By the fourth date they were sleeping together. With her, he was young again, aroused in ways he had thought were finished. Initially, Gina had been reluctant, but he had chalked this up to her inexperience. Now he was seriously thinking of asking her to marry him. That would set old Claire back a step or two. And he was confident Gina would agree. Why wouldn’t she want to be married to the second most powerful man in the world? Well, Claire obviously didn’t, but she didn’t count. He was concerned that acquaintances would think she had married him for his position. That bothered him a little, but after they met Gina they would realize she and Bryce were in love.
Bryce crossed Pennsylvania Avenue without waiting for the light to change. A driver honked and swerved, narrowly missing Bryce, obviously unaware that Bryce was too important to stop for red lights. As he entered his office building he remembered that Uncle Charlie had also said, “Zingers show up in threes.” He hoped to hell that a serious heart attack for Treadwell wasn’t the final one in his little trilogy. If that happened, he’d lose his meal ticket. He’d no longer find his name in the newspapers on an almost daily basis. He’d have to lay off those fifty lawyers. But he was confident that Gina would stick with him because she really did love him.
Still, he couldn’t let any of that happen. He had to persuade Treadwell to schedule that cardio workup.
By the time Craig’s plane touched down at Dulles at ten in the morning, he had read and reread all of the materials Betty had left with him or e-mailed. He had developed in his mind a bio for Barry Gorman, even the courses and professors he had taken en route to a Stanford degree in economics and an MBA. He had mastered many of the nuances of the shadowy and secretive world of private equity funds. He felt that he knew General Alfredo Estrada as well as it was possible to know someone from written materials without a personal meeting.
One thing was clear: Estrada would be a tough nut to crack. The general was revered by his troops for the way in which he had rebuilt the army, taking poor and embittered men and women from the streets and giving them a reason to live, a source of pride. His accomplishment was all the more impressive because he had done it quietly. Many Argentineans continued to believe that the army, after the disasters of the Dirty War and the Falklands’ battle with England, was no longer a factor in the political life of the country.
Others, more perceptive, saw what was happening. The editor of one BA daily, La Opinion , had described Estrada as “part visionary, part megalomaniac, and part thug.”
Somewhere, Estrada had a wife and two children who were never mentioned in the media. Nor seen with him. He loved high living. Gambling and good-looking women. He made periodic trips to casinos in Europe and Vegas. Craig wondered whether Gina had been or was still sleeping with him when she was in Argentina.
As he stepped off the plane, his cell rang.
Six months later, zinger number two flew in when a young reporter for La Nación in Buenos Aires showed up in the reception area at his law firm without an appointment and camped out until he would give her an interview. Bryce had planned to tell the reporter he was too busy, until he saw her sitting patiently with pen and notebook in hand, a beautiful, demure, virginal-looking, sensuous woman in a smartly tailored gray suit. Perhaps it was the fact that since Claire’s departure he had little time or occasion to be with women other than in meetings, or perhaps he was just tired of working and wanted a change. Who knows why he said to Gina Galindo, “C’mon. I’ll take you out to lunch. We can do the interview there.”
He never expected they would hit it off so well. Bryce had no doubt that she liked him as much as he did her. By the fourth date they were sleeping together. With her, he was young again, aroused in ways he had thought were finished. Initially, Gina had been reluctant, but he had chalked this up to her inexperience. Now he was seriously thinking of asking her to marry him. That would set old Claire back a step or two. And he was confident Gina would agree. Why wouldn’t she want to be married to the second most powerful man in the world? Well, Claire obviously didn’t, but she didn’t count. He was concerned that acquaintances would think she had married him for his position. That bothered him a little, but after they met Gina they would realize she and Bryce were in love.
Bryce crossed Pennsylvania Avenue without waiting for the light to change. A driver honked and swerved, narrowly missing Bryce, obviously unaware that Bryce was too important to stop for red lights. As he entered his office building he remembered that Uncle Charlie had also said, “Zingers show up in threes.” He hoped to hell that a serious heart attack for Treadwell wasn’t the final one in his little trilogy. If that happened, he’d lose his meal ticket. He’d no longer find his name in the newspapers on an almost daily basis. He’d have to lay off those fifty lawyers. But he was confident that Gina would stick with him because she really did love him.
Still, he couldn’t let any of that happen. He had to persuade Treadwell to schedule that cardio workup.
By the time Craig’s plane touched down at Dulles at ten in the morning, he had read and reread all of the materials Betty had left with him or e-mailed. He had developed in his mind a bio for Barry Gorman, even the courses and professors he had taken en route to a Stanford degree in economics and an MBA. He had mastered many of the nuances of the shadowy and secretive world of private equity funds. He felt that he knew General Alfredo Estrada as well as it was possible to know someone from written materials without a personal meeting.
One thing was clear: Estrada would be a tough nut to crack. The general was revered by his troops for the way in which he had rebuilt the army, taking poor and embittered men and women from the streets and giving them a reason to live, a source of pride. His accomplishment was all the more impressive because he had done it quietly. Many Argentineans continued to believe that the army, after the disasters of the Dirty War and the Falklands’ battle with England, was no longer a factor in the political life of the country.
Others, more perceptive, saw what was happening. The editor of one BA daily, La Opinion , had described Estrada as “part visionary, part megalomaniac, and part thug.”
Somewhere, Estrada had a wife and two children who were never mentioned in the media. Nor seen with him. He loved high living. Gambling and good-looking women. He made periodic trips to casinos in Europe and Vegas. Craig wondered whether Gina had been or was still sleeping with him when she was in Argentina.
As he stepped off the plane, his cell rang.
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