He had Braelow contact Libby indirectly, delicately suggesting certain material advantages that would accrue if Bahr were permitted to adopt the boy, and certain unpleasant consequences if she continued her ridiculous attempt to thwart him; but Libby made a scene, and chased the contact man out. Bahr listened to the tape recording, and seethed, driving his fist into his palm until his arm was numb to the elbow.
He tried diplomatic channels then, demanding to have Libby extradited on certain legal and political charges, but this curiously came a cropper, and the Legation, in a huff, returned him a sharp warning against trying to violate political sanctuary. By this time Bahr was boiling.
Then he received a personal letter from Libby, through her attorneys. Bahr read it, and tore it into shreds, and shortly thereafter planned the kidnapping.
His DIA men did not return at the appointed time; in fact, they did not return at all, so he did not know exactly what had gone wrong. But not only did the kidnapping mission fail, the incident hit the newspapers, and the Canadian police found out somehow that there was a DIA linkage in the kidnapping attempt. Although it was only rumor and completely unconfirmed by Canadian officials, the European news nets played the story up as fact. Quite suddenly Bahr found the devoted public of Federation America catching the scent of scandal and looking to him confidently for explanation. BURINF handled the cover story very skillfully, but still there was a stir, an unpleasant aftertaste, and Bahr was beyond reason.
He faced Braelow in private conference. “I want that boy back,” he said furiously. “If she hasn’t had enough yet, then I’ll give her enough. I’ll break her into little pieces. I want that boy, and I don’t care what it costs you to get him. Just get him.”
Braelow spread his hands. “There isn’t any way but a court fight,” he said. “She’s deliberately turning this into a dirty mess. It’s impossible . . . .”
It was the wrong thing to say. “I said I wanted the boy back,” Bahr grated. “Set up any kind of case you have to, but get him back.”
“You mean you’d let it go into court?”
“My God, are you deaf? No common, low-grade whore is going to . . .” Bahr broke off, incoherent. “You heard what I said. Now you do it!”
Braelow and his staff mounted the case.
Julian Bahr tried every conceivable device to keep the affair out of the courts, but after the kidnapping failed it was evident that he was not going to succeed. Libby would not meet with him or his attorneys directly. She left all negotations in the hands of her counsel, who were, collectively, the best legal firm in Canada. With no other alternative at his disposal, Bahr bent every effort toward a quick, quiet settlement before a Canadian judge, confident that BURINF could do a neat job of cover-up for him on the American side.
Consequently, he received a bad jolt when he walked into the courtroom with Braelow at his elbow, and found himself facing a battery of 3-V cameras and microphones, with the press-box packed with the most eloquent journalists on five continents waiting patiently for the fun to begin.
He caught Braelow’s arm. “What are those cameras doing in here?” he whispered furiously. “Those newsmen . . . . This is my fight, my personal, private fight.”
“You don’t have anything personal or private any more,” Braelow told him coldly. “You might as well get that through your head. We’re on thin ice out here, and it’s out of our control. The cameras were the judge’s option, and he insisted on having them here so there wouldn’t be any kickback later.”
“All right, then, get my men to work jamming any broadcast,” Bahr said.
“They’ve tried it already, and they can’t. Radio Budapest is getting through, and so are half a dozen other foreign nets.” Braelow shrugged. “According to Intelligence, most of the population is following the news, one way or another.”
Bahr cursed. “How is this thing going to go?”
“Maybe not too bad,” Braelow said. “In fact, I don’t see how we can miss. We have evidence of immoral conduct, the men involved will give us perfect testimony if we need it.”
“They’d better.”
“And we have a terrific edge on the support aspect. The woman’s job here will hardly clothe and feed the child, much less educate him. That’s plainly one of our best cards.”
“You play the cards, don’t bother me with them,” Bahr said tightly. “Just so we win.”
“Relax,” Braelow said.
“But those damned cameras—”
“You’ve always liked cameras,” Braelow said. “Cool off. We’re going to win this.”
In another room in the courthouse, Libby turned to Harvey Alexander, her face drawn of color, lips trembling. “I’m afraid,” she said. “I don’t know if I can face him.”
“Well,” Alexander said, “this is a fine time to tell me.” He put his hand on her shoulder. Her whole body was shaking. “Look,” he said, more kindly. “We’ve led him down the garden path, so far. The minute he sees me out there, he’ll know that something fishy is going on. He won’t be worrying about you then. I’ll be doing the court fighting, and either you have confidence in me, or you don’t . . . .”
“It isn’t that,” Libby said miserably. “It’s the whole idea. The thing we’re going to do to him. It’s a brutal thing to do.” &
“I know it.”
“And it’s a lie . . . .”
Alexander shrugged. “I wouldn’t do it if I knew any other way to make him break. But it doesn’t matter now whether we like it or not. I’ve shown you the BRINT reports.”
“I know, I know,” Libby said. “I know we have to get Julian out now. But what if you do knock him down? What will it do to him? He hits bottom when things go against him and hell fight. But if he’s really finished, hell just go to pieces. That happened after his court-martial. He tamed into a drunk.” She looked helplessly at Alexander. “I hate him, believe me I hate him. But what will happen to him? And what if it doesn’t work? What if we’re wrong?”
“If it doesn’t work, we’ve got nothing to lose anyway,” Alexander said wearily. “He’ll expand into Canada, and then Europe, and nothing you nor I can do then will make the slightest difference. We have to get him now, before he’s entrenched so that he can never be shaken loose. Look, Libby, you’re the one who has to decide. You’ve got to have die strength and will to do it, or we’re through.”
She was silent for so long, and looked so frightened and uncertain that suddenly he was frightened himself. Maybe he had given her too much rope, but he knew that at the heart of it she had to make up her own mind.
Watching her, he thought with a sudden pang of BJ, and wondered if he would ever see her again. He knew from a BRINT checkthrough that she was alive, under constant DIA surveillance ever since he had slipped the hounds that night at Wildwood. Now he realized what drew him to Libby: she was so much, very much like BJ, and he wondered if BJ would have the strength to do what he was asking Libby to do now.
“We got Tim out of the Playschool and into Canada like clockwork,” he said, trying to sound confident. “BRINT folded up the kidnapping attempt without a hitch. So far we’ve blocked him at every turn. You must have known what you were doing then; now we’ve reached the critical point. Are you going to throw up your hands and give up now, just because Bahr may call you a couple of dirty names in public?”