said.
“I don't know yet, but I understand the urgency.” I thought it was a reasonable response that would have been acceptable in any business circumstance. Evidently, it was unsatisfactory here.
“Look at me,” said Armajani slowly, in a whispering tone that echoed across the room. “We haven't got much time, and the same goes for you. We need results; we need answers. DeLouise fed us his bullshit and we have no patience for yours! The only way you could prove that you're indeed DeLouise's partner is by delivering on his promises. Otherwise…” he didn't finish the sentence, but I got the message. I could feel cold sweat traveling slowly down my spine.
“We gave DeLouise an advance on the Russian delivery and we want results. Now!” He raised his voice a couple of levels. I looked at Guttmacher. He was pale. The poor schmuck was visibly unnerved.
“I came here to help you out. So I don't think shouting or threatening me will get you anywhere. I'm willing to continue from the point DeLouise left off, but I must know what it is.”
They waited for me to continue.
“You say that you need lithium compounds, palladium, and beryllium. I need to know quantities, payment, and delivery arrangements. You don't buy this stuff by mail order, do you? If you can't tell me now, I'll look for DeLouise and his files and get back to you with my answers if I ever find him.” This was a good time to see if my last sentence triggered their attention. If they had anything to do with DeLouise's murder or if they knew about it, I could expect some human reaction. When none came, I had to conclude that either they were not human or they knew nothing about it.
I remembered what Eric told me about the Soviet scientists looking to make an extra buck and the mention of Moscow by Armajani, so I added, “If you hold your cards so close to your chest, you make it difficult for me to help you.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kutchemeshgi.
I was making progress. After the mental battle, logic and necessity won out over suspicion, though not by much.
“I mean that DeLouise got your money but I don't know if he made any payment to the Soviets. You're not telling me, DeLouise isn't around to tell me, how am I supposed to know? You may end up paying double, or not getting the goods at all, just because you're stubborn. How can you expect me to work for you while you blindfold me?”
“What guarantee do we have that you won't disappear on us like your friend DeLouise?” And when I thought he was finished Kutchemeshgi added, “How do I know you're not an American spy?”
“You don't,” I said, regaining my confidence. “You've told me nothing, I never received any money from you, I owe you nothing, but I'm still agreeing to help you. And if you believe I'm a spy, we can end the meeting right now. This may assure you are not divulging any information to a spy but will also guarantee you the dead end you were faced with before I arrived. Besides, what's espionage got to do with it? Everyone knows that Iran is trying to make commercial purchases in the world's markets. Why the secrets?” I remembered what Alex had taught: “At a certain juncture in this kind of negotiation, make a show of frankness.” I wasn't sure it would work with Iranians, whose national heritage and tradition is to negotiate. But apparently my approach worked.
“All right,” answered Armajani, although I looked at Kutchemeshgi. “We'll go along with you for now. Here is your first mission: I want you to retrieve the file DeLouise was holding. Then we'll talk.” Another cold chill went down my spine. “But we'll be watching you.”
I got up and left the room. I didn't even offer a handshake. I had achieved a few things though; they'd agreed to talk if I found the file.
Back on the street I kept my eyes open for Lovejoy or any of Eric's goons. I knew they wouldn't try to make contact with me, but I also knew they were close by. I picked up a cab and told the driver to take a detour or two, then headed back to my hotel, thinking hard.
I tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The people in the meeting didn't seem to know that DeLouise was dead. Either that or else they were worthy of Oscar nominations. But given what I had just heard in the meeting, DeLouise's disappearance had stalled their efforts. So, I concluded, the Iranians hadn't killed DeLouise. It must have been somebody else. On the other hand, as all lawyers like to say, if the Iranians had killed him that meant that he was expendable. As always, surprises were possible and expected.
In the cab I scribbled the names of the compounds I had seen on the list before Armajani had taken the file from me. I went straight to my room and was met with one of those surprises – a well-built stranger of a man. Before I could open my mouth, he said, “I'm Tom and I work for Eric. He has asked me to bring you over to see him.”
Although Tom looked and sounded American, I needed more proof.
“How do I know that you work for Eric?”
“Eric, Ron, and the technician are waiting in the safe house to get that equipment off your back.”
That was enough for me. “Let's go,” I said. “How far is the apartment?”
“A ten-minute ride. I'll go out first. You follow in a few minutes. I'll be driving a German taxi; when you see me, flag me down.”
Our three friends were waiting in a third-floor apartment. I stripped off my jacket and shirt, the technician removed the gadgets, and I handed Eric the notepad I had used in the cab to jot down the names of the few materials I could remember after glimpsing the file.
“You'll want to look at this,” I said. He took the pad and quickly scanned the list, then put it aside.
“The bastards are raising the stakes after all.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The materials you mentioned tells us the direction they're heading. Small details sharpen the total picture. Langley could estimate exactly the direction of their program. On a more urgent level, I hear that the Iranians only need you to get DeLouise's file. I don't know what he did or said to gain their trust, but apparently he conned them. So now their heads are on the line. If the Iranian government finds out that their agents gave such sensitive material to somebody who disappeared with it, I wouldn't want to be in their shoes. If I were Armajani or Kutchemeshgi, I wouldn't buy green bananas because I wouldn't be around when they're ripe.”
“And maybe I'm right on the other front,” I said. “Guttmacher was only passively involved in the meeting. Right now it seems to be the Iranians versus DeLouise. Guttmacher and his bank are only the battlefield.”
“So it looks as if you're staying on the job; you've got to go on with the game to find out what you need to know about DeLouise's business,” said Eric, pretty much taking me for granted.
I decided to ignore his statement. “So what are these chemicals used for, and why do the Iranians need a covert operation to buy them?”
“Chemistry and physics not your strong points, huh?” snapped Eric.
“Nope,” I replied, “I skipped every single class.”
He grabbed a chair and said, “I guess I'll have to educate you.” And proceeded to give me a short lecture on nuclear energy and how it works.
“OK, let's get back to present-day reality,” I said, when he'd finished giving me the basics of nuclear fission. “You probably picked up from that funny transmitting pen that Guttmacher has a file in his office with substantial information on Iran's purchasing plans. This is the one I got a quick look at. I'm convinced that they have additional files with documents concerning the Iranian purchases. Once I retrieve DeLouise's file, I don't think they'd expect me to supply them with the radioactive compounds that they paid Raymond DeLouise to obtain. Frankly, I don't think we would get that far, because what they're concerned about are the lists they gave DeLouise that apparently have gone missing with him. I'm sure they're not convinced I'm DeLouise's partner. That's why they demanded that I first produce the file they gave DeLouise. I don't know what happens if I do produce the file. It could go either way.”
“What do you mean?” asked Eric.
“Well, if I succeed in retrieving the file, they could think I had something to do with DeLouise's disappearance and connect me to some foreign-intelligence service. Or they could be convinced, and my legend sticks that I am, after all, DeLouise's business partner. Under both theories, they'd have the file and then could choose what to do with me. But since the file was not among the items DeLouise left behind, this is all just guesswork.”
“How do you know that?”
