with.”
Pines nodded. “It won’t be long now.”
The Director said, “Of course, there will be some mopping up to do, and undoubtedly we’ll have to meet again when we’ve received the results of whatever interrogations occur.”
“Interrogations?” said Kearns. “What interrogations?”
Pines snapped, “Well, after all, we do hope to be able to take at least one or two of them alive. We ought to have the expertise to do that much.”
Porterfield closed his eyes and sighed. Goldschmidt said quietly, “You’re going to try to trap them again.”
The Director extended his hands in front of him as though he were holding up an invisible object for inspection. “Not
Porterfield opened his eyes. “To Morrison.”
“Yes. John Knox Morrison. His name was in the papers, so they must have thought he was important. They called him at home, and of course the call was recorded. This time we know where and when in advance, and we’re going to take this thing seriously.”
Kearns was tapping the table with a pencil but didn’t seem to be aware of it. “Has the voice been analyzed?”
“Yes,” said the Director. “That’s going to be your favorite part of it, Jim. It’s not a voiceprint we’ve ever seen before. But there was the tiniest trace of an accent, and the analysis people say it’s definitely a Spanish accent, and definitely Latin American. So that puts this group squarely in your bailiwick. This operation may very well solve some problems for your section.”
“I’d like to recommend that you reconsider,” said Porterfield. “In spite of the accent, these people might be domestic. We have to remember that the other thing they stole from that building was cocaine. If they’re domestic, then paying them off won’t have any consequence that we need to worry about. It may even induce them to stop taking risks and retire.”
Pines smirked. “And what if they’re a Latin American terrorist group? We’ve already given them lessons on taking over a major city. We give them five million dollars to help overthrow some friendly government? Brilliant.”
“I second Ben’s motion,” said Goldschmidt.
“Me too,” said Kearns.
Pines shouted, “I’d like to remind you people that this isn’t some damned men’s club. Nobody’s voting on anything here.”
The Director held up his invisible object again, but this time it seemed to have grown. “I’m afraid that I really do have to take this decision on myself. I can’t see myself as the first Director to yield to the temptation to take the easy solution and pay to keep someone quiet about the Company’s secrets.”
“Not by a long shot,” said Goldschmidt. “They’ve all done it. Half the world’s diplomatic corps has been on the payroll for twenty years, and the KGB pays the rest.”
“That’s hardly comparable to paying five million dollars to a gang of criminals, foreign or domestic. Besides the possible consequences, it’s just not cost effective. Five million dollars is a lot of money.”
Porterfield cleared his throat. “Have you ordered an accounting on this operation yet? I don’t mean what it’s cost Los Angeles or what it might cost the Company if the Donahue papers come out. I just wondered what we’ve spent so far.”
The Director contemplated his imaginary object again. “Oh, I suppose we could—”
Pines interrupted, his head shaking with what could have been rage, but seemed to be somehow debilitating, like a palsy. “No. No audit has been done, and nothing of the kind has been considered. This isn’t some project we’re working on. This is war. Five million or ten million or ten billion don’t mean a thing.”
“They do if you lose,” said Kearns.
Porterfield was watching the Director. His arms were still held before him, but his hands had gone limp, as though he had dropped the object he’d been holding. He seemed to be contemplating Pines.
He turned to Juan and started to explain again. He spoke patiently and precisely so that the others, who were older, could listen without appearing to. “This man is rich, so there’s no question he’ll bring a number of armed men with him. Just to carry so much money he’d need help.”
“I understand,” said Juan. He adjusted his dark glasses again, a gesture that had already become unconscious. He had been proud of the tear tattooed on his cheekbone until Mr. Grijalvas had taught him that it was a mistake, the mark of a loser. There was no honor in the mere fact of having been in prison.
Grijalvas said, “This man will be a coward. He’s ready to pay the money because he’s afraid not to. He’s also afraid to pay it, and if he sees a chance to avoid it, he won’t have any pity. The men he’s hired will be the ones to watch. They’ll be feeling foolish because they didn’t kill him and take the money themselves. The only way they can give themselves ease now will be to try to kill us. If he shows the slightest sign of wavering, they’ll try it.”
Juan said, “And what if he doesn’t give them the chance, and we get the money?”
“Then there will be a number of men walking away from this who are accustomed to being paid for carrying guns and who know that we have five million in cash.”
“I understand.”
The car crossed a bridge over a dry streambed that was choked with rocks and small, spiky plants. In a half hour they would cross another, and then the patches of green would begin again. This time they wouldn’t be irrigated fields of alfalfa and hay, but the first of the carefully tended golf courses of Palm Springs. Grijalvas looked out the window. From the quiet, air-conditioned interior of the car it all looked still and inviting, like a painting. The bright sunlight made the jagged rocks stand out in relief, throwing long, dark shadows on the empty flats. Outside the car the air was beginning to lose some of its ferocious dry heat. By the time they reached the first of the stoplights on Palm Canyon Boulevard it would be down to a hundred degrees. By the time John Knox Morrison ventured out of his refrigerated hotel room it would be in the seventies, a calm, clear, pleasant night.
CHINESE GORDON SAID, “Well, Palm Springs it is. That’s the last turnoff.”
Margaret sighed. “Do you have any idea how hot it is? Why in the world would people come all the way out here when they could climb into an oven just as well at home?”
“We know why old Jorge is here. It’s not a bad choice, either, considering what he knows. It wouldn’t be hard for him to outnumber the police.”
“And you still expect to be able to take the money away from him afterward?”
Chinese Gordon shrugged. “No matter how many people he has there, he has to split them up when he leaves. If he gets the money and we see a chance, we may do it tonight. If not, tomorrow is another day, and it’s always a long, lonely drive to Los Angeles.”
Chinese Gordon let the big Continental drift off into the distance, dropping the van back to the speed limit. It was several minutes before Margaret realized that what he was humming was “Tenting Tonight.”
JUAN SAT ERECT AND PROUD, as the companion of a powerful man should. He tried not to look directly at Mr. Grijalvas but to keep his eyes forward, staring at the hundred feet of rock and gravel in front of the car’s headlights. Beside the road a gnarled joshua tree appeared, like something crouching to gather energy to stretch itself, then floated back into the darkness. The headlights caught a patch of yuccas clustered in the rocks ahead, and he could see a haze of dust drift across them. A few seconds ahead another car must have passed by here, disturbing the still night air. He could see Mr. Grijalvas’s silhouette in the periphery of his vision, and he unconsciously shifted his posture to imitate it.
