‘I’ve got a few things to chase up here,’ Pappas said, tapping the recorder with one finger. ‘If it turns out Cesky’s knocked off half-a-dozen people, it might be possible to handle this straight up. Just turn it over to the authorities and let them sort it out. After all, he’d have a hell of a time explaining the coincidence.’
She didn’t much fancy that idea. Jules’s father had inculcated in her a deep distrust of the authorities, because of how difficult they made it for him to separate gullible characters from their hard-earned quids without legal consequence. On general principle, she did everything she could to avoid dealing with agents of the state. In this case, however, she could discern a clear and present danger in Henry Cesky. As she’d been reminded, down in Shah’s wine cellar the night before, he was a bum chum of the US President; she was a smuggler, a thief, a killer in her own right. And, never to be forgotten in this part of the world, Jules was the woman who had hosed the sticky remains of Greg Norman off the poop deck of his yacht, before sailing away on her without so much as a by-your- leave.
Pappas picked up on her discomfort immediately. ‘I know you have issues, and I’m not saying we’re about to pop into the local wallopers and file a formal complaint.’
‘Oh Jesus, no,’ said Jules, remembering the trip to Bagot Road with Shah and Downing. ‘I wouldn’t trust those slick bastards as far as I could throw them.’
‘All I’m saying, Julianne, is you have to accept that this guy, if he is responsible, may well be beyond your power.’
‘What power?’
‘Exactly. But this is real, not a trashy movie. Guys like James Kipper, they don’t want shit like this blowing back on them. If Cesky is your guy, they’ll cut him loose. It’s just a question of how we get that information to them.’
‘I’m open to suggestions,’ she replied, with not a little bit of sarcasm in her tone.
He smiled. ‘You leave that to me. You have other things to worry about. If you want to go see your mate, it’d be best if you didn’t just roll in with a six-pack and a get-well-soon card. Somebody tried to blow him up, and a couple of other punters died because of that. Wherever they’ve got Rhino now, the police will be keeping an eye on him, and everybody who comes to visit. If you’re going to go calling on Mr Ross, you might want to give Piers a bell. He can send you along on official business, so to speak. Let him set it up, and just present yourself as one of his junior lawyers when you get there.’
She nodded. It would mean having to pick up some office clothes, but that wouldn’t take more than an hour or so in the city.
‘And my other little problem?’
‘The bloke over here now who wants to kill you, you mean?’ Pappas grinned. ‘I’m afraid that unless I can make some headway,’ he added, holding up his notes, ‘we’re going to have to go with our original plan. Put you out there. Let them try. And hope we can reach out and grab them before they put a bullet in the back of your neck, or a bomb under your arse. How’s that sound?’
‘Spiffing.’
36
TEMPLE, TEXAS ADMINISTRATIVE DIVISION
To the aide’s credit, his cheesy grin didn’t freeze in place and shatter when Colonel Murdoch went upside his head. Tusk Musso looked as though he was about to have a litter of kittens, but if anything, McCutcheon’s smile beamed even wider and sunnier than before.
‘Ma’am,’ he said, ‘I’m sure you’re exaggerating. We do take security very seriously over at Fort Hood. I had to stop at two checkpoints myself coming here. That’s why we invited you down - we have a real security problem.’
The two men lowered themselves into their armchairs as one of the off-duty enlisted arrived to take Caitlin’s drinks order. In many ways, it was a very informal bar based on the honour system. A large pickle jar full of newbies watched by what she assumed was an off-duty sergeant ensured that it would remain honourable. Soldiers and civilians could and did walk behind the bar to get what they were looking for, holding it up for the non-com’s approval before dropping their coin into the jar. The drinks were free, government salvage, but the tips went to the staff.
‘I think I saw a bottle of Highland Park back there. If I could get one of those with a single ice cube, that’d be great,’ she told their waitress. ‘And in a decent glass, please, the crystal. If you’re gonna drink well, you should treat your drink well.’
Musso and McCutcheon both called for resupply on the beers and the female soldier disappeared to fill the order. At the far end of the room was a massive media wall. A pair of Rangers sat on recliner lounges with game controllers in their hands, firing at some sort of alien on the sixty-inch plasma. Thank Christ they wore earphones. Two other men worked around the room picking up the empties and polishing the tables down.
‘Is this on the duty roster?’ she asked.
‘Yep,’ said Musso. ‘Probably the most popular duty we have. I’ve always been surprised that it’s worked as well as it has.’
Caitlin returned her attention to the fixer-in-chief of the Blackstone administration, fixing him with a gamma ray stare.
‘I’ll make a judgment about that security situation of yours in the next couple of days, Mr McCutcheon. But I’ve already made a judgment about the unnecessary harassment and intimidation of federal officers within the administrative area of Fort Hood and Killeen. Before I lift a finger on this project, you will take measures to ensure this harassment ends. Immediately.’
The ambient noise level in the hotel bar fell away completely. Again. Caitlin was aware of everybody trying, without actually staring, to follow what was happening within the little tableau presented by the three of them. Musso looked deeply uncomfortable but willing to let her play it out in character. McCutcheon seemed amused. He held up his hands in mock surrender.
‘Damn, working with you is going to be fun, Colonel.’
‘Not if I don’t get my way,’ she said without a trace of humour.
McCutcheon’s blue eyes were twinkling and two small creases had formed at one side of his mouth as he suppressed a smirk.
‘Okay, you got me. We do like to have our fun down here, and I will admit sometimes we might take a joke a bit too far. But I wasn’t joking before, ma’am.’ He allowed the boyish grin to fade as he rearranged his features to telegraph Deep Concern. It was quite an act. ‘I know that all the way up there in the Northwest, y’all don’t think much of Roberto as a threat. But he is pushing us every opportunity he gets. Before we brought down the hammer, we had his people all over the state. They were openly sizing us up for a smack-down. If it feels like a bit of an armed camp here, in contrast with friendly old hippieville up in Washington State, it’s because we
The drinks arrived, breaking the atmosphere.
‘Thank you, darlin’,’ McCutcheon purred, winking at the soldier. Caitlin almost expected him to slap her on the ass as she walked away. But what little remained of his military bearing, coupled with years of enforced sensitivity training, seemed to have stayed his wandering hand. For the moment, at any rate.
She had the distinct impression he was just playing dumb. For one thing, y’all, he wasn’t a good old boy. Tyrone McCutcheon, she knew from his bio in her briefing set, had been born and raised in Alaska. He didn’t pick up his Southern drawl in Juneau. All he was missing was a pair of shit-kickers, a Stetson and a belt buckle the size of a hub cap to complete the impression that he was a down-and-out bull rider whose eight seconds of fame had come and gone.
‘You can make a sales pitch tomorrow,’ said Caitlin, beginning to enjoy herself in the role of hard-assed Colonel Murdoch. ‘But only after I’ve received a guarantee from you that the imposition of unreasonable restrictions on Federal Center personnel will end. It is ridiculous that these people have to drive thirty or forty miles out of their way just to get to the goddamn airport.’
