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WHEREVER THEY MAY BE
© 1972, The
Beate Klarsfeld Foundation
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[dis…] patch. Again I realized how little effect
reports have; it's the presentation that counts. On the following day Serge was
to give the whole file to the directors of the French military tribunal.
At two A.M., dead tired, I went to bed. It was too late to talk to
Arno, and when I left in the morning, it would be too early.
At four
A.M. Serge, who was arranging my files, awakened me. The radio had announced
that Barbie had left Lima and taken the road toward Bolivia. We figured that he
could not reach the border before Friday, by which time I would be in Lima and,
if necessary, could follow him to La Paz.
At seven A.M. I spoke on the
"Europe No. 1" newscast: "What good is it for French politicians to pay tribute
to Jean Moulin in the Panthéon so long as the French government is not
doing what is required to bring his murderer to justice?"
An hour later
I was in the London airport, where I encountered my first difficulties. The
immigration officer looked at my passport, and then consulted a thick volume
containing the names of all the people the British were looking for or
suspected. He asked for my ticket, took my passport, and disappeared. I was
worried that I might miss my plane. I questioned his superior, and he asked:
"Why are you going via London and not taking the direct Paris-Lima flight?"
I owed this treatment to my campaign in London against the expulsion
from England of Rudi Dutschke.
"Put a policeman alongside of me," I
told him, "until the Lima plane leaves. Then you will have nothing to worry
about."
At last he let me through. I kept studying the Barbie data, and
I slept. The stops – Trinidad and Caracas – vanished behind us, and I
landed in Lima at 10 P.M. the same day, thanks to the time difference. I was
rather disoriented. It was hot and humid, and I was wearing a winter coat.
There were no reporters, for I had made a mistake in my cables by giving
Greenwich instead of Lima time. Not even my source of information, Herbert
John, whom I had telephoned from Paris, was there to meet me.
I managed
to get in touch with Albert Brun, the AFP correspondent, a thin, tanned,
fifty-year-old, who came to meet me at the airport in a car with Nicole Bonnet,
Le Figaro's correspondent. I got a room at the Hotel Savoy, took a
shower, changed my clothes, gathered up my data, and went down to the bar,
where reporters congregated for news. I showed the proofs of Altmann's
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WHEREVER THEY MAY BE
© 1972, The
Beate Klarsfeld Foundation |
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Back |
Page 250 |
Forward |
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