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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 attend
ed private schools in both Mexico and Egypt under assumed names."
"A grand plan," muttered Oates admiringly. "Nothing so mundane as burying intelligence moles, but infiltration at the very highest levels, and with the image of a messiah thrown in for good measure."
"Sounds pretty diabolical to me," said Nichols.
"I agree with Doug," said the President, nodding at Oates. "A grand plan. Training children from birth, using untold wealth and power to set up a national takeover. What we're really looking at here is an incredible display of unbending doggedness and patience."
"You have to give the bastards credit," Schiller admitted. "They stuck to their script until events swung in their favor. Now they're within centimeters of ruling two of the Third World's leading countries."
"We can't allow it to happen," the President said bluntly. "If the brother in Mexico becomes head of state and makes good his threat by driving two million of his countrymen across our borders, I see no choice but to send in our armed forces."
"I must caution against aggressive action," said Oates, speaking like a Secretary of State. "Recent history has shown that invaders do not fare well. Assassinating Yazid and Topiltzin, or whatever their names, and launching an assault on Mexico won't solve the long-range problem."
"Maybe not," grunted the President, "but it will dam well give us time to ease the situation."
"There may be another solution," said Nichols. "Use the Capesterres against themselves."
"I'm ," listening," said the President, stress showing in the lines around his eyes. "Please skip the riddles."
Nichols looked at Brogan for support. "These men were drug ckers. They must be wanted criminals. Is that right?"
"Yes on the first, no on the second," answered Brogan. "They're no petty street crooks. The entire family has been under investigation for years. No arrests. No convictions. They've got a staff of corporate and criminal lawyers that would put Washington's biggest law office to shame. They've got friends and connections that go straight to the top of ten major governments-You want to pick up this bunch and put them on trial? You'd do better tearing down the pyramids with an ice pick."
