They both laughed vigorously before saying goodbye.
As soon as Tate clicked off, he placed a call to Morita in the New York office.
“I just talked to Kamin,” Tate said.
“Is he feeling better?” Morita asked.
“All his concerns seem to have vanished for now, but once the Musselman glow wears off over the next few days, his distrust and paranoia could return.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Nothing for the moment. Any news from Swatling or Malouf?” Tate asked, wondering about his other partners.
“Malouf hasn’t heard anything from KaneWeller or Bill Heinke. Swatling has completed his review of Morgan. He was quite optimistic. He’s bringing it with him.”
“Good. Did we get Quinn’s transaction documented?”
“Yes, I’ll have everything tonight-video, audio, and signed documents.”
“Where are we keeping everything this time?”
“Safety-deposit box at Chase.”
“Perfect,” he said before redirecting his attention. None of the Musselman success would have been possible without Morita’s behind the scenes support network. “Still planning to join us?”
“Of course. You think I’d miss Capri?”
“You must have been Italian in a former life,” Tate said, knowing how much Morita loved Roman archeology and history.
“Queen Zenobia of Palmyra,” Morita said, laughing. “The woman who manipulated the Roman Empire and controlled its most important trade routes for years. If I wasn’t her in a former life, I wish I had been.”
“Isn’t she the one who claimed to be a descendant of Cleopatra and some Persian ruler?” Tate asked, chuckling.
Morita laughed. “The very same.”
“Are you exhausted?”
“Only when I think about it,” she said.
“Why don’t you stay here for the week,” he said, aware that the recent string of retreats had worn her out.
“I can’t. There’s too much happening next week.”
“Sure you can. The
There was silence from Morita’s end, which made Tate smile. At least she was mulling over his suggestion. The intense pressure of recent weeks was getting to everyone, and the last thing he needed was for his most trusted confidant to lose her edge.
Tate continued, “The Villa Jovis Symposium runs through Tuesday. Don’t forget, it was the most luxurious villa in Roman history. You could even spend a couple of days at the Quisiana, without a single client to worry about. I know how much you love the narrow streets and hidden alleyways of Capri, not to mention the shopping. What do you say? We all need to spend some time celebrating Musselman.”
“Let me think about it,” she said. “I’ll let you know Sunday morning.”
“Thank you, Diane, for everything,” he said, smiling again as he ended the call and lay on his bed listening to the Mediterranean lap against the ship’s bough. He was certain that Morita would take him up on his offer.
Within seconds a knock came at his door. “It’s open,” he said.
“Are you ready, my love?” said the taller of two stunningly beautiful models who entered his master suite, locking the door behind them. They moved like silk in a breeze.
“I am. I am,” he said, inviting the women to lie down beside him, beneath the carved mahogany canopy adorned with Italian lace. Tate was definitely ready to celebrate.
25
Hap — Boston, MA
Hap Greene was quietly enjoying the subdued atmosphere inside the Bostonian Club’s elegantly appointed library, when Wilson found him. His stylishly short gray hair made him look even more distinguished than Wilson remembered. Hap was in his late forties, but his six-foot-three-inch frame looked as fit as that of a thirty-year-old. He was impeccably dressed, as always, this time in an Armani charcoal tweed suit and a starched white shirt with a striking turquoise tie. Wilson was also in uniform-black pin-striped suit with white shirt and red club tie.
They greeted each other as old friends and then sat down for lunch in the main dining room. Wilson discreetly reached into his briefcase and pulled out the mobile nullifier Hap had sent him and placed it on the table behind the large salt and pepper shakers.
Hap smiled before commenting, “I wouldn’t place too much confidence in that gadget, Wilson. It was intended to frustrate the casual eavesdropper and maybe a PI or two, but not skilled professionals, at least not indefinitely.”
“That’s not very comforting,” Wilson said as he examined Hap. Precise, decisive, no-nonsense, with a flair for the unexpected-that was the Hap Greene Wilson had come to respect and admire. Wilson looked around the main dining room. His father had been a member here for years, but Wilson didn’t recognize anyone. Then he stared at the nullifier, questioning whether the secret partnership had already de-nullified it. He then looked at Hap.
“Don’t worry, the building is clean,” Hap said. “We swept it this morning.”
“You never use these things?” Wilson asked, nodding toward the nullifier.
“Sure we do. But you have to assume that serious surveillance teams will find a way to pierce them.”
The waiter arrived with water and menus, rattling off the day’s specials. They ordered quickly. When they were alone again, Wilson asked, “So how do we guarantee our privacy?”
“Regular sweeps of your premises with constant monitoring. But before we get into that, maybe you should update me on what’s happened since we last talked.”
For the next several minutes as they ate lunch, Wilson told Hap everything, including his intent to infiltrate the secret partnership. Just as Wilson was finishing, Hap raised his finger to his lips, giving Wilson the quiet sign. Then, Hap got up from the table without saying a word and walked to the restroom. Three minutes later, he returned.
“We have an eavesdropper, a Mr. Robert J. Swatling. Evidently he’s a member here. Do you know him?” Hap asked.
“He’s an associate of my father’s. Lives in New York City, but has a law practice here as well.”
“He and two others have just set up a portable wall-penetrating microphone and recorder in the private dining room on the other side of that wall,” Hap said, nodding toward the wall twenty feet away.
“How do you know?”
“It’s my business to know,” he said cheekily. Then, pointing to his ear, he explained. “I’m online with my people.”
Wilson couldn’t see anything in his ear. “What do you want to do?”
“Your nullifier and our jamming equipment outside will handle things until they bring in better equipment, and believe me they will, sooner or later. We know Swatling. He used to be a client.”
“How did you identify him?”
“The van parked outside has enough equipment to decipher every electronic eavesdropping device inside this building. After conducting a sweep this morning to give us a baseline, we’ve been monitoring changes. We also placed a few video cams. Swatling was identified as soon as he entered the building. When he turned on the microphone and recorder, we immediately assessed and jammed it. He’s using a level-two device capable of piercing most nullifiers, including yours, but only under ideal circumstances. Have you been using it regularly?”
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t they using better equipment?” Hap asked, but the question wasn’t for Wilson. Staring at the
