“You wouldn’t want to know. What’s the situation?”
“Vassenka’s in the morgue. On the bright side, we found the ship we think has the rocket fuel. It’s about twelve hours from Basra.”
“Stop it.”
“You think so?” said Ferguson, in his familiar mocking tone. “I was toying with the idea of letting it sail into the horizon.”
“Bob—”
“It’s Ferg. Even my enemies call me Ferg. Rankin and Guns are on their way to give an assist to the navy team that’s going to board the ship.”
“You think of me as your enemy?”
“Depends on the day. What’s with the Israelis?”
“I have a meeting tomorrow with Tischler to iron this out. Parnelles suggested I talk to him in person.”
“How is the general?”
“I don’t know. Slott passed the message along.” Corrine knew Ferguson meant Parnelles, of course, but she wasn’t sure why he called him “general.” As far as she knew, the CIA director didn’t have a military background. But this wasn’t the time to ask him about it. “Ferg, I’d like you in Tel Aviv for the meeting.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Don’t you think you ought to be?”
“If it fits into my schedule.”
“Make sure it does.”
He didn’t answer.
“The meeting is at nine a.m.,” she continued. “You want to meet at the airport, or—”
“I’ll meet you at the building. I have some stuff to do.”
“So do I.” She clicked off the phone, then went upstairs to change into less formal clothes.
2
Judy Coldwell sat with the handbag between her knees, pressing her hands together as the small boat approached the yacht. Her chest began to tremble, and for a moment she feared she was having a heart attack. She closed her eyes and took a long breath, trying to calm herself.
She could do it. She would do it. It was all ridiculously easy. All she had to do was have faith.
Finally the boat drew alongside the yacht. Birk came to the side as she climbed over the ladder, extending his hand and helping her aboard.
“Ms. Perpetua, how are you this early morning? Well, I trust.” He positively beamed. “Come. Have some champagne.”
“Thank you, no,” she said.
“Bottled water, then. Or tea, perhaps tea?”
“Some coffee, maybe.”
“Coffee, yes. Of course. Coffee.”
Birk led her into the cabin sitting area, where a bottle of Dom Perignon was on ice. He opened the bottle and poured himself a glass as he ordered one of the bodyguards to make some coffee.
“Do you have the weapon?” said Coldwell.
“Of course,” he told her.
“Is it aboard?”
This was one difficulty of dealing with amateurs, thought Birk: they did not understand the protocol. Still, they did overpay.
“It is accessible,” said Birk. “That is not a problem.”
“Is it aboard? I’m told it’s very big.”
“The crates that carry it are large, yes,” said Birk. “No, it is not on board.”
“Where is it?” Coldwell clutched her handbag, fearing that she had been swindled somehow.
“It’s not far. Your agents can pick it up as soon as I give the order.”
“We must pick it up before I pay.”
“You have the money?”
“Jewels.”
“Yes, jewels. Forgive me. Do you have them?”
“I will get them as soon as the transaction is completed.”
“I’m afraid that is not how it works,” said Birk. “You will tell me where they are now. I will retrieve them. Then you will be directed to the missile.”
“You don’t have it on the ship?”
“It would clutter the deck. Now. Where are the jewels?”
Coldwell opened her bag. For a moment Birk thought she might actually have them with her, but she — or more likely the person she was working for — was not quite so foolish. She handed him a man’s wristwatch.
“The alarm screen has the GPS coordinates,” she said. “Don’t push the mode button more than once, or it will be erased.”
Ravid watched through his binoculars as the American woman handed over the watch with the coordinates for the small boat where the jewels had been stashed. It should not be more than a few minutes before Birk’s minions had them and cleared the rest of the transaction.
The gems were the real ones Khazaal had brought to Syria. Birk would never have been fooled with the fakes.
He had not counted on the Americans when he had made his plans, but their complications helped him in a way: their presence gave him a natural excuse to stay behind. Someone had to keep watch over the slippery Mr. Ferguson and his minions; even Tischler could not object to that.
Alter finding that the bodyguards had been waylaid, Ravid realized what was happening and acted without hesitation, a man desperate to obtain the means to his revenge. He already knew the general area where the CIA people were operating; he had only stumbled around for an hour or so before finally finding the proper hotel. Anticipating that he would be searched by the Syrians inside, Ravid had left his substitute jewels outside the hotel and picked them up when he excused himself to answer nature’s call. Swapping them in the boat when the others were taking him to Cyprus was child’s play.
Birk would make a radio or phone call soon, and the next phase would begin. The moment of ultimate decision was at hand. There could be no hesitation after this.
There would not be.
Ravid turned to the men in diving gear at the rear of the boat. “A few more minutes,” he told them. “Be ready.”
Birk answered the phone on the first ring.
“Three million at least,” said his brother-in-law. “One or two are fake, but most are real. Small diamonds and a few rubies.”
Birk smiled. By this time tomorrow, he would have exchanged the jewels in Turkey. After taking care of a few odds and ends, he would head toward the Greek islands where he would have the leisure to plan a more distant voyage.
“Well?” said Coldwell.
“There is a barge at this location,” Birk told her, taking a piece of paper from his pocket. “Those are GPS settings. Use my phone to call your contact, and I will see you off.”
“I’ll use my own, thank you.”
“As you wish,” said Birk.
