what happened.”
Bin Wazir laughed and rubbed his big beefy hands together as if relishing the memory. He gave Hawke a look as if to say they were old friends and that this little tale was just idle club gossip amongst gentlemen.
“It was most amusing, actually,” Bin Wazir then said, his smile revealing a set of gleaming white teeth beneath the thick black moustache.
“Amusing,” Hawke said, giving him a smile of encouragement.
“Quite. You see, I was dining in the neighborhood with a lovely young woman of my acquaintance. After dinner, she asked if I would take her to Nell’s for a dance and a drink. Yes, I said, why not, it’s right around the corner. We descended the stairway and were met by two gentlemen at the door.”
“Yes,” Hawke said, “Thursday evening, that would be Mr. Bamford and Mr. Lycett.”
“Exactly. Well, they asked if they could help me and I said yes, I’d like to buy the young lady a drink at the bar. Was there a problem? Well, yes, they said, this is a private club. Members only. Not a problem at all, I said, getting out my checkbook. I’ll join. How much?”
Bin Wazir laughed again as if at himself, and looked round the table, gathering approval.
“Most amusing,” Hawke said, finally.
“I thought so, too,” bin Wazir said, now warming to the tale.
“Ah, but Mr. bin Wazir, they said, this is unfortunately not how the club functions. They said I must be proposed by a member, seconded, and have a number of supporting letters. Well, it was a little embarrassing, but, thankfully, my dear friend Sonny here agreed to help me smooth things over.”
Smooth things over? Well, Hawke thought, casting a glance at Brick, well, this certainly could get interesting.
“Mr. bin Wazir,” Brick said, “You certainly took the direct approach, but I’m afraid Mr. Bamford and Mr. Lycett were accurate. You will need to go through the process.”
“Surely, you’re not serious, Mr. Ambassador,” bin Wazir said. “A simple phone call from you would—”
“He is serious, I’m afraid, Mr. bin Wazir,” Hawke said, coming to Brick’s aid. “I, as it happens, am the current chairman of the admissions committee. I approve all applications and no one is accepted unless they have met all the requirements. Proposer, seconder, and a minimum of five supporting letters. All from members.”
“That’s right, Mr. bin Wazir,” Brick said. “Sorry, but there you have it.”
Bin Wazir looked at the two of them as if he could not believe what he was hearing. Finally, he smiled and said, “Fine, you two gentlemen are members. You can propose and second me.”
“Unfortunately, we cannot,” Hawke said, sipping his brandy. “Membership committee members are not permitted to do that.”
“Who says that?” bin Wazir said, the color rising in his cheeks now.
“The club rules say that,” Hawke said coolly. “There’s actually a whole book of them. Rather thick, to be quite honest.”
“I’ve sent you a book listing the names of the entire membership,” Brick said. “It’s just a matter of your going through it, calling the members you know, and getting the process started.”
“I didn’t know any of the fucking members in the book,” bin Wazir said, his voice rising. More than a few heads swiveled in his direction at that point and Alex realized he’d have to calm the fellow down and quickly.
“Please,” Alex said. “You’re taking this personally. It isn’t. Everyone at Nell’s has gone through the exact same process. Including Ambassador Kelly and myself. You’ll just have to be patient and get to know a sufficient number of members, that’s all.”
The man turned on Alex then and literally snarled. “And, Lord Hawke, how do I get to know the fucking members if I’m not allowed inside the fucking club? Let’s cut this bullshit, all right? How much? Give me a goddamn number. I’ll write you a fucking check and—”
Barnham, the maitre d’, had appeared by bin Wazir’s side. He bent and looked the man in the eye and said quietly but firmly, “Sir, your behavior is inappropriate in this establishment. Either lower your voice and clean up your language or you will be asked to leave.”
“Fuck you,” bin Wazir barked at Barnham, and turned away from him. His eyes were blazing and looked back and forth to Hawke and Kelly, who stared back at him implacably.
“You guys think you can fuck with me? Nobody fucks with me. The arrogance of you Americans and Brits! My people were inventing mathematics when you people were still rubbing fucking sticks together. I’ll make you bastards pay for this, that I can guarantee you! I will—”
“Mr. bin Wazir,” Barnham said, “You are no longer welcome in this establishment. These two gentlemen will escort you to the door.” Two burly waiters had arrived and by now all conversation in the room had ceased and all eyes were riveted on the scene at the corner table.
Bin Wazir got to his feet, furiously wiping his mouth with his napkin, which he then threw to the floor. “If they touch me, they’re dead,” he said, flecks of spittle at the corners of his mouth. And with that he gripped the edge of the table and upended it, sending all the china and silverware flying, and a large snifter full of brandy into Alex Hawke’s lap.
Hawke looked at the enraged man evenly and, trying to keep his voice down, said, “I would say the odds of your getting past the Nell’s admissions committee at this point are decidedly slim, Mr. bin Wazir.”
This brought forth a great deal of chuckling from the surrounding tables. For a moment, Hawke thought the man might actually go for his jugular but he wisely decided to simply turn on his heel and storm out of the Grill Room, pushing and shoving all and sundry out of his path.
The waiters already had the table back in place and were bringing a fresh coffee service and liqueurs. After apologizing profusely to the staff and the other diners, Brick turned to Alex and said, “I’m sorry to have dragged you into this nightmare, Alex. Really, I am.”
“Good God,” Pendleton said, “I’m the one who should be apologizing. The whole mess is on me. I’ll go find the hotel manager and see if I can’t clean it up somehow.”
“I’m the one who invited Hawke, remember?” Kelly said, as Pendleton got up from the table.
“Don’t be ridiculous, old Brick. You either, Sonny. Most fun I’ve had in months.”
Half an hour later, having laughed the whole thing off over a few stiff whiskies courtesy of Duckworth at the bar, Hawke and Kelly went outside, looking for the ambassador’s driver. A few taxis stood waiting in Carlos Place, but the embassy car was not there.
“Where in the world’s my car?” Brick asked one of the doormen.
“Gentleman came flying out about half hour ago, sir. Quite upset he was, too. Before I could stop him, he climbed into the back of your car, said something to your driver, and off they went. Thought it was a bit odd, but —”
“Unbelievable,” Brick said. “Lunacy.”
“He pulled a gun on him, Brick,” Hawke whispered. “It’s the only answer.”
“Shall I call a cab for you gentlemen?”
“We’ll find one, thank you,” Hawke said. It was still spitting rain but he needed a little fresh air.
“I’ve got to call my DSS guys, Alex,” Kelly said as the two men turned into Mount Street. “I think this guy is seriously dangerous.”
“Here. Use my mobile.”
They hadn’t traveled more than halfway up the empty block when a giant black man leaped out of the shadows from behind them. He grabbed a stunned Kelly by the collar of his jacket and ripped the cell phone out of his hand. Brick whirled, his fist already cocked, and threw a vicious roundhouse punch. It was deflected and a head-butt from the giant sent a stunned Kelly sprawling to the pavement. Then the monstrous fellow turned his brutal attentions on Hawke.
“I would say we could go somewhere and discuss this like gentlemen,” Hawke said, “But you’ve made the stupid mistake of attacking a friend of mine.”
The thug grunted and made a move towards Hawke. Alex was set, and he stepped inside it. He chopped the flat edge of his right hand across the man’s throat and drove the compressed fingers of his left hand up under the sternum. A shockwave rippled up both of Hawke’s arms. He might as well have attacked the statue of Roosevelt in nearby Grosvenor Square.
