“When does that plane land?”
“It takes off around six p.m., and it should be there within one to two hours. A bit of time to turn it around on the ground… it gets back here somewhere between ten and two.”
“Thanks for narrowing it down for me. My money set?”
“Wired in, with Ms. Alston’s approval.”
“All right. I have to talk to Van and then I’ll get back to you on what else I need. Definitely the Global Hawk or U-2. An Elint plane would be nice.”
“There’s no signals coming out of there, Ferg. With the president’s trip next week and everything, it’s a real bear to spring resources. And even Special Demands has a budget.”
“Corrigan, do you pay for this stuff out of your pocket?”
“No, Ferg, but you know what Slott is going to say.”
“Does
“He’s going to say if there’s no high probability of data, resources would be better conserved—”
“To which I say, ‘use it or lose it.’ I like my saying better.”
“Yeah, but I’m the one he’s going to yell at.”
“No, he’s going to yell at
“It’s a skirt set,” she told him.
“Is that a no?”
“I can’t wear the same thing?”
“Don’t be gauche.” He grabbed the blazer he had borrowed from the hospital. “Come along. Uncle Sam is about to take us shopping.”
Thera found a gorgeous blue dress in the Versailles shop that fit so well she was ready to spend her own money on it, until Ferguson whispered the price. They put her conservative Arab clothes in a bag, along with the weapons that wouldn’t fit beneath her dress without creating unsightly bulges. Ferguson found a blazer next door and a shirt to go with it. For Monsoon and Grumpy, along as shadows and sartorially challenged, Thera selected a pair of brown suits and black shirts that made them look like rap stars trying to look like bouncers. Not a bad effect, Ferguson thought.
“We check our weapons at the door,” Ferg said as they rode in a taxi to Agamemnon. “The Barroom is a very posh place, which means we can’t bribe the help but we can slide the guns in through the window in the men’s restroom.”
Ferguson made a show of handing his big Glock to the attendants at the hallway entrance to the club, then went through the metal detector and set it off. They pulled him aside. “Oh, it was probably this,” he said, holding up a penknife. “Sorry about that.”
They took the knife and wanded him with a handheld metal detector. Not satisfied even though it didn’t beep, they patted him down.
“Tickles,” said Ferguson, who finally passed through the gate without setting the machine off. Thera was waiting for him.
“Did you do that on purpose?” she asked as he took her arm.
“What do you think?”
“I know you must have, but I can’t figure out why.”
The maitre d’ approached them, nodded graciously, and then showed them to a table overlooking the bar.
“I want them to remember that I was clean,” said Ferguson as they sat. “And I wanted everybody in the place to get a look at how cute you are, especially Ras.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Look, he’s coming to us tonight. Perrier with a twist,” he said as a waiter fluttered toward them.
“I’ll have a champagne cocktail,” she said.
“No bourbon?” asked Ferguson.
“The night is young,” said Thera. “How are we going to get our guns?”
“Monsoon’ll figure it out.” Ferguson rose. “Ras, how are you?”
“Mr. IRA and wife,” said Ras, sitting. “So lovely.” He asked Thera what she was drinking and then ordered the same.
“You don’t strike me as a champagne cocktail kind of guy, Ras,” said Ferguson.
“Mr. Ferguson, I have to say, you have impeccable taste in women. Your wife is so intoxicating she makes me forget who I am.”
“Too bad I don’t have the same good judgment when it comes to picking business associates.”
“How so?” asked Ras, making a not very subtle attempt to stare down Thera’s cleavage.
“I mean that you have not been completely honest with me,” said Ferguson. “You told me you had not heard that Vassenka was in town, and now I hear that he is.”
“If he is or not, that’s not my concern. I didn’t know that he was when you asked.”
“So now you do?”
Ras waved his hand. “The Syrians may think so. I have an open mind.”
“What do they say about Suhab Majadin?”
Ras didn’t recognize the name.
“An Iraqi,” said Ferguson. “A Shiite.”
“You are dealing with him, Mr. IRA?”
“I always deal with the highest bidder. But I have other business with Suhab Majadin. Personal business. Business that I would like to conclude, especially if I had the opportunity by chance to meet him here.”
They sipped their drinks for a while. Ras asked Thera some questions about her background. Thera said that she was from Turkey but was otherwise purposefully vague.
As Ras glanced at his watch, Ferguson leaned forward. “If you sell anything to Suhab, you’re going to make a lot of people very angry,” he said. “And by sell I include trade, loan, or gift.”
“One never makes a gift in this business,” said Ras.
Ferguson leaned forward on the table. He said nothing and made no gesture that could be interpreted as conventionally threatening. Yet even Thera felt a tingle of fear.
“Where’s Suhab?” whispered Ferguson.
Ras shook his head.
“You’re dealing with him?”
“I don’t even know him.”
Ferguson straightened, then leaned back in his seat, staring at Ras. Then he grinned, in effect releasing him. Ras strode away, his composure not quite restored.
“Can we bug him?” Thera asked.
“He’d find it.” Ferguson sipped his seltzer.
“So what are we going to do now?” Thera asked.
“Dance the night away,” said Ferguson. “Then go for a swim.”
25
Despair seized Judy Coldwell as the taxi approached the hotel. For the first time since receiving the Reverend Tallis’s message she doubted, truly doubted, her ability to carry out the task.
It was not that the meeting with the Polish arms dealer had gone badly. On the contrary, while clearly he didn’t remember her or the AK-47s and grenades he had supplied her employer three years before, the Pole seemed to have taken her seriously. He had even tried to sell her a weapon.
