scrut…”
“I thought your computers were sacred, too,” Ollie said.
The door to Byrnes’s office opened.
“Sir?” a uniformed officer said.
“Maggie, find a cell downstairs for this gentleman, will you?” He turned to Halloway. “Do we have to cuff you?” he asked.
“Only lions bite,” Halloway said, and smiled thinly. “You’ll never even get me arraigned, I promise you. You’ve got to be kidding here. The Commissioner will come down on you so hard you’ll wish you lived on Mars. You think we’ll let a Mickey Mouse detective squad in the asshole of the universe jeopardize everything we’ve been working for? Who’d stop those bastardsthen, can you tell me? Who’d stop them from poisoning our reservoirs or blowing up our trains? Who’d stop them from planting bombs in day care centers or baseball parks? Who’d stop them from destroying this land of ours? Thisworldof ours? Thisfree world of ours? You? Are you the ones who’ll save us? Don’t make me laugh! You should get on your hands and knees and praise God we exist! Because if it weren’t for us, there’d be nobody! Nobody at all! They’d make it impossible to walk the streets! They’d blow up your babies in their cribs! Without us, who the hell on earth would eventry to stop them? I’m asking you.Who?”
WILL STRUTHERS HELPED Antonia out of the taxi in front of Clarendon Hall and looked up at the falling snow. The snow added a somewhat festive air to the evening. In a city of strangers, people were actually smiling at each other as they entered the old limestone building. Will looked up at the television monitors spaced high on the walls everywhere around the lobby, all of them showing the stage inside. “For the benefit of latecomers,” Antonia explained, which Will didn’t quite understand, but he followed her as she handed their tickets to a man standing at one of the entrance doors to the hall itself. Together, they stepped into the vast space, all red and gold and magnificent, glittering like an outsized Christmas present left by Santa himself. Will had never seen anything so splendiferous in his life. Not even in Texas.
THE SHORT , slight man who stepped out of the black Cadillac DeVille was wearing a black overcoat with a mink collar. The trousers of a black suit showed below the bottom edge of the coat. He was wearing a black homburg and highly polished black shoes. Hanging from a strap over his left shoulder was a man’s black leather handbag. The hat, the coat’s collar, the coat’s shoulders became immediately dusted with falling snow. The tinted glass window of the limo slid down silently. The man leaned into it and gave the driver some instructions in English. The driver answered in English and then the window slid up again, and the limo pulled away from the curb.
Standing in the falling snow on the sidewalk outside Clarendon Hall, Jassim Saiyed reached into the handbag, removed from it a package of Marlboro cigarettes, shook one free, and lighted it. He glanced at his wristwatch. It was fifteen minutes to eight. Puffing calmly on his cigarette, Jassim watched the crowd of smiling Americans entering the building.
THEY TOOK THEIR SEATS in row G, seven rows back from the stage, numbers 2 and 4 on the aisle.
“Good, huh?” Antonia said, grinning. “One of my best customers plays oboe with the orchestra. This was his Christmas present to me.”
Will was thinking that when he and Antonia became millionaires, they would come to places like this all the time, never mind free handouts from anybody. There was a sense of excitement and anticipation in this opulent place, resounding now with the repeated sounds of strings and horns tuning up. Leafing through the program, he noticed that one of the pieces they’d be playing tonight was something called “La Gazza Ladra,” which he saw was translated as “The Thieving Magpie.”
He showed this to Antonia, and then whispered, “I hope this isn’t anything personal.”
Antonia laughed.
A hush fell over the audience.
The concert was about to begin.
JASSIM LOOKED AT his wristwatch.
If Akbar’s calculations were correct, the intermission would begin at approximately nine o’clock. Jassim would go up the aisle, and out into the lobby, and hence into the street, where Akbar would be waiting in the Cadillac. He would arm the bomb’s timing device, and Jassim would come back into the hall, and take his seat again. Several moments later, after the Jew had started playing, Jassim would rise again from his seat, apparently on his way to the men’s room, leaving behind him his hat, his coat, and the bag containing the bomb. At precisely nine-thirty, the bomb would explode.
Jassim wondered why he felt so calm.
WILL WAS BORED to death.
The kind of music he liked best was what he heard back home in Texas. Songs about cowboys. Songs about women with broken hearts. Songs about true-blue hound dogs. The orchestra up on the stage there sounded like it was practicing.
He could hardly wait for the intermission.
TERROR WAS THE only thought on Jassim’s mind.
Strike terror into their hearts.
Deliver fatal blows all over the world.
He rose the moment the lights came up, placed his coat and his hat on the seat, and began walking swiftly toward the back of the hall. His watch read exactly three minutes past nine. He wanted to be back in his seat again by nine-fifteen, when the intermission would end. The aisle was thronged with concert-goers making their way to the rest rooms or the street outside. Patiently, Jassim milled along with them, but his heart was pounding inside his chest. He tried not to look at his watch again until he reached the lobby outside.
Nine-oh-six.
He raced through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk.
He looked across the street.
