by Adam Hall
She knew by the number. 'We need to meet somewhere more private than a yacht club.'
'Afterwards. Look, if you can get here before, say, midnight, you should do that. This is a campaign party and it'll go on till the morning, and there's a man I want you to meet. I'll keep him here as long as I can. It shouldn't be too difficult – he has the hots for me.'
'What's his name?'
'Stylus von Brinkerhoff.'
'I could meet him somewhere privately.'
'It has to be low key, a casual introduction.' A beat, then because I hadn't said anything she went on. 'It's really very important for you to meet him, Mr Keyes. And there are some things I have to tell you. One is you don't need to look for George Proctor any more. You know what I'm saying?'
I didn't like the pressure she'd started to put on me. Or it could be nerves, a touch of apprehension before Barracuda was pushed headlong into a new phase.
'Look, I have to pick someone up and take them along, and I won't be able to talk in front of them. I don't have more than a minute. I'm going to leave you an invitation at the desk of the Marina Yacht Club and you can ask for it there. It's black tie. Mr Keyes, you just don't appreciate how important it is for you to be there tonight. All you have to do is trust me.'
The line went dead and I put the phone down.
'That was Cambridge?' asked Croder.
'Yes.' I filled him in, verbatim.
'How does it strike you?' This was Ferris and he spoke before anyone else could. The ranking here went from Monck through Croder to Ferris and me, but Ferris was my director in the field and the mission was running and it was his sole and sacrosanct responsibility to look after his executive and he was making that quite clear.
'She used rather a lot of obvious pressure, don't you think?'
'When she said you had to trust her, did she sound hurt or indignant?'
'No. Persuasive.'
'Did she sound out of tune?'
Argot: he meant out of character.
'I've only met her once.'
Croder said, 'Can you bring it down to the odds?'
'That it's a trap?'
'Yes.'
Purdom had begun tapping the tips of his fingers together, not making any noise, just doing it quietly, not knowing he was doing it, wished he'd stop. 'The thing is,' I said, 'we've taken a lot of trouble keeping me under cover since the Mafia thing last night, and we'd be coming right out into the open again if I went there. To the party.'
Monck had been shuffling around the room and now he stopped and said with his head on one side, 'Let's try it this way. How much do you think you could learn, if you met her there?'
'A lot. If she's genuine. If it isn't a trap.'
Beginning to feel the chill a little. I've walked into traps before, knowing once or twice what I was doing, but they'd been the kind where you stood a chance of doing something very fast or very deadly, a chance of getting out again with what you'd gone in for, the product, some kind of information, dragging a man back to base for interrogation or bringing away papers, photographs, tapes. I don't mind taking a risk as long as it's calculated, as long as it's worth taking, but the problem we'd got here was that we couldn't tell what the odds were, whether it was worth it or not, whether it was worth walking into the Marina Yacht Club and hearing, a long way off in the distances of the mind, the swinging of a hinge and the closing of steel doors and the dying away of the echo in the dark.
'Ferris?' This was Croder, asking for a decision from the DIP, from the man who knew the field better than anyone, who knew the executive and what he could do, what he couldn't do, couldn't be asked to do.
'If you went in there,' he spoke directly to me, 'you'd have all the support we can raise. Fifteen or twenty people.'
Trained, talented, armed and strategically dispersed.
'They couldn't stop a long shot.'
'They would check the environment, very carefully.'
Purdom was still tapping his fingertips together and it worried me and I turned my head but Ferris got in very fast and made a gesture and Purdom froze and looked down suddenly, turned away, hadn't known he'd been doing it, and I saw Monck and Croder pick up the score, all very nervy, we were all very nervy because if I walked into that place and we'd got it wrong we'd lose Barracuda, lose it to a single shot.
Sweat beginning, cold on the skin.
Said to Ferris, 'Do you think I should do it?'
With his customary care: 'I think you should consider doing it. But consider well. The chances aren't very good, and the last word, of course, is yours.'
Car going past in the street, someone calling out, faint laughter.
La dolce vita.
'I think it's worth the risk.'
Chapter 18: BALLOONS
'If von Brinkerhoff is there, we'll have him tagged, of course.'
There was a heat-haze right across the city as we swung into the approach path, and the lights glimmered through it, brightening as we lowered.
'Ask her about that script she was using for last night's show,' Ferris said. 'Does she remember working it out according to campaign logic, or did it just come to her from out of the blue, as a flash of inspiration? But I wouldn't suggest she might have been under subliminal direction, or that she might still be.'
'Why not?'
'It's delicate ground, and it might panic her. It panicked you.'
Flaps down.
I was feeling all right. He hadn't asked me how I felt because he'd got a pretty good idea. When I say I was feeling all right I really mean I was feeling normal, normal for this particular situation. I was going straight into a red sector and we couldn't hope to cover all the contingencies because a gun is a gun and they don't have to be very big and they can be quite accurate if people know how to use them and they can drop a man from a distance even in a crowd, even with a silencer in place.
'Ask her if she'd be willing to meet Mr Croder and Mr Monck.'
I half-listened. He wasn't really briefing me; he knew I'd got a rough idea of what we wanted out of Erica Cambridge. He was making conversation, covering the important points to see if I had any questions, yes, but giving me comfort at the same time, giving me someone to talk to as we levelled out and the blue lamps flickered past the windows and the bump came, the first of three, because what we were doing was executing a trade-off, balancing the odds and deciding that the life of the executive for the mission was worth putting at risk providing the chance of getting vital information was high enough.
So I was feeling normal for the situation, a hollow-ness in the stomach, a chill on the skin, the palms slightly moist. The feeling that I was on my way to an execution wasn't new: I'd had it a hundred times and as recently as last night when little fat Nicko was taking me across the darkling main to a rendezvous with the grim reaper, God rest his stinking little soul, I did not like that man, execution, yes, nothing new, but this was different because everything looked so civilised and I was sitting here in Monck's dinner jacket and there was going to be an invitation left for me at the Marina Yacht Club for this very plush party and I was meeting a rather attractive woman there, so forth, different but no better, no better, my good friend, because a trap is a trap and in this trade you don't often get out alive.
'You'll have immediate contact, of course, whenever you need it,' Ferris said, and pulled his valise from under the seat in front. He meant I could signal any one of his people in the environment and talk to them, tell them what I wanted, pine veneer and simple handles, nothing fancy, joke.
Draughty out here on the tarmac. Ferris had phoned from the plane for a chopper to stand by for our arrival in Miami and take us to the shuttle pad by the Yacht Club because the timing had been tight and it was now 11:43 and we didn't know how long Cambridge would be able to keep von Brinkerhoff there.
A Customs and Immigration man was waiting for us and we stood there showing papers with our hair all over the place and then he said everything was okay and we got into the H
ughes 300.
Lift-off, 11:48.
'Croder will be following on,' Ferris said, 'and he'll be available for a meeting with Cambridge if she seems amenable,' A tuft of his thin straw-coloured hair still sticking up. 'At this stage anything can happen, and with a bit of luck she might be ready to give us the whole thing and we can wrap up the mission.'
Keeping things cheerful, you understand, knows his job, Ferris.
Down at 11:57, lowering across the masts in the marina, heeling a little as the pilot brought most of the power off and turned through the last few degrees and then settled her carefully on the skids. A nice enough building, the Yacht Club, as you'd imagine, pale red brick and white window frames, pillared portico and wide green lawns, people standing outside on the balconies with drinks in their hands, the women in long colourful dresses, I'm not, if you want to know, particularly keen on parties because you can't hear what people are saying with all the noise and that wouldn't matter so much but you've got to put in some kind of answer here and there for the sake of politesse, Ferris opening the door and dropping onto the pad and waiting for me, a last-minute rush of apprehension as I followed him, ducking under the rotors and already seeing some of them not far away, some of his people, one of them the man who'd got me into that cab on the quay when the shed had caught fire two days ago, good people, well trained, a comfort, yes.
I swung the door of the chopper shut and turned round and faced the building and blew the cover they'd been giving me since they'd taken me off the tug last night, blew it to the winds. The Mafia had got a contract out on me and Toufexis's people had been given my photograph and there'd be some of them here tonight and I felt the sudden air-rush and the bloody thing droning into the skull and then it was over and I was back in control.
'Eighteen men,' Ferris said, 'your own little army,' and touched my elbow and turned away and I walked along the tiled path between the massed geraniums, not hurrying because I was here now and the party was far from over by the look of things, a crowd of black polished limousines in the car park on my left with chauffeurs standing around and two of our people near the wrought iron gates. I didn't know exactly what orders Croder had given for tonight but he wouldn't have put this amount of support in the field just to keep things jolly, so I suppose he'd told them to watch for a gun hand moving and make a killing drop in time to protect me. They'd carry official bodyguard licences to keep the fuss down when the police wanted to know what was happening: this was routine Bureau procedure.
Skin beginning to itch because the warmth of the night was heating up the Teflon I was wearing under the dinner-jacket, people crossing the portico on their way to the car park, only half a dozen police officers standing around so I suppose Senator Judd had already left: it was midnight. If he'd still been here there would have been fifty of them.
But there were a great many other people also standing around, most of them in blue serge suits. There would be a lot of high-echelon guests here tonight, targets for political activists and weirdos.
'Hi! Can I help you?'
Brilliant smile, a small corsage of carnations, one bare shoulder, Florida chic.
'There should be an invitation here for me. Richard Keyes.'
The name for the face in the photograph. They would know my name too. Shortening the odds, yes, on the other hand 'Sure, Mr Keyes, I have it right here. I'm sorry you missed the Senator.'
'Was he good?'
'O-h-h-h…' with her eyes shining, rolling to heaven, every hormone in her slim preened body lining up to vote for Golden Boy.
On the other hand, it wouldn't be easy in a crowd this big to squeeze off a shot and get clear with all those chauffeurs and police officers and bodyguards standing around, and less easy still to pump out some rapid fire from an Uzi: that would attract even more attention and they wouldn't reach the car before the police dropped them with a fusillade. Seek comfort, my good friend, seek comfort where ye may.
'Enjoy what there is left, Mr Keyes.'
The smile shimmering, the corsage quivering slightly to the body language, what there is left of what, my little darling, you mean my life?
'Champagne, sir?'
'Thank you.'
Cutting quite a dash in my borrowed plumage, glass in hand, the truth of the matter concealed beneath silk lapels, the Teflon itching on the skin, proof against anything up to armour-piercing grade, but if they were professionals they'd go for the head.
YOU'LL MAKE IT, MATHIESON! strung out in huge gold letters on a banner across the podium where the band was playing, a dozen couples still on the dance floor, their shoes brushing through coloured streamers, two waiters on their knees picking at the carpet where a glass had fallen and smashed, three Japanese talking together by one of the tall white-framed windows, and Erica Cambridge.
'Well hello, Mr Keyes.'
Slight, cool-looking in a sheer white silk gown with a lame belt, lame shoes, her violet eyes watching me as the smile was flashed on for the occasion.
'You look stunning,' in fact, did.
Thank you. Did you just get here?'
'Yes.'
'Did you come alone?'
'Yes.'
'Then you didn't see Mathieson.'
'I heard he was very good.'
'He's -' looking away, looking back – 'I have a lot to tell you. Why don't we go outside where it's quieter?'
'It's like a Turkish bath out there.' I led her towards the white moulded archways opposite the windows, giving my glass to a waiter. 'I got here as soon as I could.'
The slapping sound of a rotor cut across the music as another chopper landed. Croder will follow on, Ferris had said; or it could be picking up some of the guests.
'Stylus couldn't stay,' Erica said. 'He had to get back.' We found a couch, blue linen with white rope trim, where it was quiet enough to talk. Someone had left a brocade bag.
'Back to the Contessa?' Stylus von Brinkerhoff.
She looked at me sharply. 'You're well informed, Mr Keyes.'
'My first name is Richard. I'm sorry I missed him.'
'What do you know about him?'
'You said you had a lot to tell me.'
'Ma'am, is this your bag?'
'Oh my God, I've been frantic. Thank you so very – you're Erica Cambridge! I just love your show!'
"Thank you.'
'Well I'm – interrupting.'
'How is Proctor?' I asked her when the woman had gone.
She looked surprised again, wary. One can't always remember, but I think I've never seen a woman so frightened, beneath the maquillage, so close to some kind of brink. 'I didn't see him,' she said.
'But he's on board the Contessa.'
Reaction after reaction, and I began worrying that all she had to tell me was what we already knew.
'I believe I mentioned, Mr – Richard, that I have no one I can really confide in, really trust. I – I suppose I've gone through life antagonising people; at least that's my reputation. So why should I confide in you? Why should I trust you?'
'No earthly reason. You don't even know me.'
'You're not making it easy for yourself.'
I was.
'I didn't ask you to trust me, Erica. There's no obligation. But if you want my guarantee that I won't divulge anything you have to tell me, without your permission, I can give you my word.'
'How much is it worth? I'm sorry, that's not very -'
'It's unbreakable. Would you be prepared to talk to my people?'
'Who are they?'
'Officers of the British government.'
Her hands were on the move again, as they'd been when we'd sat at the table in Kruger Drug. Correction: not frightened beneath the maquillage. Awed. Awed by what she knew, what she'd found out at 1330 West Riverside Way and on board the Contessa.
'The British government,' she said, 'is involved. The entire world is involved. I -'
'Look, if you're willing to see my people, I can arrange it. You'd have more confidence in them
than just one stranger. They're much higher than I am.'
It was a get-out but it was logical. If she was ready to talk to Ferris and Croder and Monck I could walk out of this thing and go home with a whole skin and let them put it down in the records, Mission completed, executive debriefed, because if this woman had the information we needed, that was exactly what I'd be doing – completing Barracuda. She was our new objective and I was close to handing her over.
'Whether I agree to see your "people" or not, I've decided to go to the State Department.' Running one violet-lacquered finger-nail along the white rope trim, unable to keep still. 'It would then be for them to consult with the President, and for him to decide whether to summon our allied ambassadors. But I don't know, Richard, this whole thing is -' her hand brushing the air – 'it's so far-reaching. And this is what scares me – I want to help Senator Judd get into the White House and in fact I'm already helping him do that, but now that I've learned what I have, I don't know if it isn't the most dangerous thing I could do. For everyone. For the United States and the rest of the world.'
I didn't say anything.
'I know he went thataway, Simon.' Gusty laughter, much champagne. 'He said the men's room.' Trotting past with uncertain feet, arm in arm. 'But where is Nancy?'
"Not in the men's room, let us hope!' More laughter.
'There are some people I have to talk to, Richard, before I can leave. But not about this. Let's meet on the front porch in fifteen minutes. We'll go to my apartment and I'll show you what I'm talking about. It's actually on paper, duplicated. You know what I'm saying? A whole brief, do you understand?'
The product. Mission completed.
Unless it was a trap.
I didn't know how good an actress she was. I didn't know if the fright in this woman, the feeling of awe, didn't derive from the knowledge that she was about to do what they'd briefed her to do when she was on board the Contessa: lead a man to his death. Proctor had been there on that yacht. Let that be borne in mind, because yesterday he'd asked La Cosa Nostra to put out a contract on me, and they'd come so very close to a kill.
Don't go with her.