Rent-an-Army

Just about the only real growth industry in inflation-racked Argentina these days is the security business. The unceasing wave of terrorism has created a booming market for private armies of security agents who follow likely targets of guerrilla violence around the city during the day and watch over their sleep at night. The guards wear bullet-proof vests and carry shotguns, often discreetly wrapped in brown paper. On the street their coats bulge over hidden hand grenades. They stand guard in front of hotel rooms, communicating by walkie-talkie with their colleagues outside. Trip wires and hidden microphones protect them against surprise attacks by terrorists.

As Argentina drifts into chaos, union leaders, government officials, diplomats and foreign corporation executives all have reason to fear for their lives. The uncertainty was compounded last week when President Isabel Peron returned home from the hospital amidst persistent rumors that she was about to resign. So far this year more than 700 people have died through political violence, and unofficial estimates put kidnapings at over 250. Largely as a result, Buenos Aires now has 200 or so licensed protection agencies, although most of the business is done by a dozen top firms. One of the largest is Organization Seguridad Integral, S.A., run by Luis P. Occhiuzzi Agrelo, a retired commissary inspector of the federal police. O.S.I, can draw on a supply of 1,000 men, mostly former soldiers and police or moonlighting off-duty cops, for special missions. About 100 of them have been given special anti-kidnaping training.

The methods and weapons employed are not always officially approved. Some guards are trained to scatter jagged miguelitos (twisted nails) from armored cars to block off escape routes. Private security vehicles sometimes carry flamethrowers. "Some agencies use all the methods of the guerrillas," says Agrelo. "But the best weapon is to prevent an attack from occurring. If an executive knows what to look for and is trained in anti-kidnaping techniques, all the arms become almost unnecessary."

All Devices. The most heavily guarded buildings in Buenos Aires are the U.S. embassy and residence; 250 men, including Marines, federal police and contract guards, take turns providing security for the embassy and its staff. All 90 American employees are linked by a radio network 24 hours a day, and newcomers to Argentina are urged to live in a central residential area patrolled by embassy cars. Like most ranking Argentine politicians, U.S. Ambassador Robert C. Hill travels in an armored car, surrounded by a flotilla of heavily armed vehicles. The armor for many of the vulnerable VIPs is provided by Protection Argentina y Seguridad, a company that started out building armored trucks for banks. "We can make a car like James Bond's, with all his devices in it," claims Miguel Angel Caballero, the company's director. "The only thing we haven't managed yet is to make one that will fly." For about $7,000, P.A.Y.S. will transform any regular production-model Argentine car into a rolling fortress, with sufficient armor to withstand small-arms fire and yet maneuverable enough to speed away from a kidnap attempt.

Some people question the effectiveness of the private guards. Moonlighting police, for example, can hardly be expected to be wide awake after having put in eight hours on another job. Moreover, a modest deployment of guards seems to present terrorists with no serious problems. When Juan and Jorge Born, owners of Argentina's largest private company, were kidnaped in September 1974, their two guards were simply held at gunpoint by one squad of guerrillas while another forced the brothers from the car. Frightened customers, therefore, contract not just for single guards but for whole squads of them, and they are willing to pay a high price. Round-the-clock protection by three guard posts costs about $5,400 a month. Visiting executives pay anywhere from $600 to $1,300 a day.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.