by Barry Eisler
He thought the crack would get her to smile, but she didn’t. Which was really too bad, because, after all, they had a half hour to kill.
“You okay?”
She shook her head. “I just … I just don’t know what the hell’s going on.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen some crazy shit, but this one is up there, no doubt.”
“Then why are you so cheerful?”
He shrugged. “I got laid last night. That always puts me in a good mood.”
That made her smile. “Yeah? Was she good?”
He felt his lips. They were swollen and tender. “Well, she’s got a good straight right, I can tell you that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is that all?”
He smiled. “No, there’s more. And if she joins me in the shower, I’ll tell her all about it.”
33
Not a Place You Want to Be
Thirty minutes in the shower wasn’t quite what Ben would have allotted if it had been up to him, but they managed to use the time well. Afterward, Paula got into the sundress and Ben pulled on the shirt he’d bought. He put the one he’d been wearing the day before in the laundry bag with Paula’s clothes. They’d dump it somewhere far from the hotel.
“Just gotta listen in on this call,” he said. “And then we’ll go.”
“Put it on speakerphone.”
Shit, he should have seen that coming. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t tell me you’re keeping secrets from me. Not after what happened yesterday. Not after what’s happened since then.”
He briefly considered telling her that was all separate, that shared danger, even a shared pillow, didn’t mean he could share operational details, too. And decided that, if he did, she was going to start punching him again. And besides, it wasn’t really a question of operational details. It was just a bunch of managers arguing about what to do. And hell, she knew a lot already.
He nodded. “All right. Speakerphone.”
She smiled. “Now, this is Larison? Calling whom?”
“As far as I know, just my boss, the national security adviser, and a guy from the CIA.”
“Who’s your boss?”
Shit. Another one he should have seen coming. He was tired. Or he was distracted by what had happened with her. Either way, things were getting past him.
“Let’s just listen in, okay?” he said.
“There’s nobody from Justice on this call?”
“I guess not.”
“Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Justice is blind,’ doesn’t it?”
Ben shrugged. “I think these guys are more concerned about the national security implications of the situation than they are about the justice ones.”
They sat on the unused bed and waited. The phone buzzed just a minute later. Ben raised a finger to his lips, answered the call, and immediately pressed the mute button.
“I’m going to explain the deal to you,” said a low and raspy voice, the tone calm and confident. Given the current circumstances, Ben figured it was Larison, about to issue instructions.
“We’re listening.” Ben didn’t recognize this one, either, but assumed it was the national security adviser, running the meeting.
“It’s actually very simple,” Larison said. “Nothing’s changed. If the diamonds haven’t been delivered to me in twenty-four hours in accordance with my instructions, the tapes will be released.”
“I understand,” the national security adviser said. “I’m going to turn this meeting over now to our new point man on the operation. I think you know him. Colonel?”
“How are you doing, son?” Hort said. Paula mouthed, Your boss? And Ben, feeling he had no choice, figuring she pretty much knew who he was at this point anyway, nodded.
There was a pause. Larison said, “Hort?”
“It’s me.”
“I had a feeling they’d bring you in.”
“Well, I wish they’d brought me in earlier. This thing would have been handled better.”
“All I want to hear is that you have the diamonds. If you do, we’ll keep talking. If you don’t, you’re wasting my time.”
“We have them.”
“Where are they?”
“What do you mean?”
“Where are you holding them? What city?”
“They’re here in Washington.”
“Good. I’ll call again in twenty-four hours and tell you how you’ll deliver them. You’ll use a single courier. I think you understand what will happen if you deviate from my instructions.”
“You made your point in Costa Rica, son. Loud and clear.”
“Twenty-four hours. You’ll want to have a jet ready.”
There was a click, then a dial tone, then silence.
The national security adviser said, “What do you think?”
“I think this is another opportunity,” a third voice said. “We can pick him up at the point of exchange.” It must have been Clements.
“I’m sorry,” Hort said, “can you tell me how that’s different from your previous plan? The one that cost fourteen lives and put Larison on a hair trigger. Literally, most likely, if we’re talking about his dead-man switch.”
“He got lucky.”
“You got lucky. Lucky he didn’t just uncork and release those tapes. In case you haven’t noticed, the man is not exactly stable.”
“We don’t even know if there is a dead-man switch. He could be bluffing.”
“He’s not bluffing. I know him. And right now, I guarantee you he’s got the switch set to dangerously short intervals. When he picks up the diamonds, he’ll probably have it down to about fifteen minutes. Your plan is to take him, secure him, revive him, elicit accurate intel, and disarm the switch in under fifteen minutes?”
“Better that way than just handing over the diamonds and hoping for the best.”
“‘That way’ is a fantasy, and the only thing a fantasy is good for is jerking off.”
Paula covered her mouth to suppress a giggle and Ben gave her a yeah, that’s my boss shrug. It was weird, and a little intoxicating, to be listening in on such a high-level conversation. And to have made Paula party to it.
“Where are you going to get the men, anyway?” Hort said. “You going to go back to Blackwater? And what are you going to do if the information Larison gives you doesn’t disarm the trigger, but instead sets it off? How are you going to know, until you see the footage from those tapes on the Al Jazeera nightly news and every American network?”
There was silence for a moment. Clements said, “What you’re proposing means we’ll have those tapes hanging over the head of the U.S. government forever. And eventually, they’re going to come out.”
“Maybe. But everything you’ve tried is guaranteed to make them come out. Besides, Larison is going to have something hanging over his head, too. Nico. And his family. Like I said before, we have nuclear parity now. Mutual assured destruction. Which wasn’t pleasant for anyone back in the day, true, but it managed to keep the peace.”
The national security adviser said, “I have to say, I don’t like the idea of his getting away clean.”
“Sir,” Hort said, “you can always pick him up later if that’s what you choose to do. I’d advise against it even later for the same reasons I’m advising against it now, but you could if you wanted to. What you can’t do is try to pick him up now, with that dead-man switch set to the kind of interval I know he’s programmed it for. Give him the diamonds, let him walk away and calm down. Eventually, having to worry about resetting that trigger every hour is going to get to be too much of a risk and too much of a pain in the ass. He’ll adjust it to every twenty-four hours, or every forty-eight. If you pick him up then, there’s a chance. Right now, there just isn’t.”
There was a long silence. The national security adviser said, “Have a jet ready tomorrow. With the diamonds.”
Hort said, “Yes, sir.” Ben heard the sounds of papers being shuffled, people ge
tting up, and then the line went dead. He hit the end call button.
“I can’t believe they’re just going to give him the diamonds,” Paula said. “Blackmail, murder … they’re just going to pretend none of this ever even happened?”
Ben shrugged. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get the hell out of Costa Rica. Just in case local law enforcement is looking for me in connection with what happened in Los Yoses yesterday.”
“But Larison—”
“Larison’s gone already. Probably crossed the border somewhere while we slept. I know this is hard for you to accept, Paula, but this isn’t a criminal investigation. It never was. My best guess? Even in the Bureau, there are people who recognize it’s not a criminal investigation, and they’re leaking to people in the CIA, people who are very committed to stopping a criminal investigation. And to stopping you, if you insist on trying to conduct one. That’s not a place you want to be.”
“This really just … sucks.”
“On the one hand. On the other hand, no one’s talking assassinations anymore, right? The powers that be have decided to resort to diplomacy.”
She shook her head and grimaced. “I don’t know what the hell the powers that be are doing. I really don’t.”
34
Courier
They drove north on the coastal road toward the airport in Quepos. Fifteen minutes into the drive, Ben’s phone buzzed.
“All right,” Hort said. “You heard.”
“Yeah.”
“So you know, somebody’s going to need to hand over those diamonds tomorrow. I want it to be you.”
Ben was surprised. “Me?”
“You know anyone better?”
“No, I’m game. I just … you know, it’s not what I usually do.”
“Well, none of this is usual. I need you to get to Washington ASAP. We don’t know what Larison is planning for tomorrow. We’ll have a jet ready, but beyond that, all we can really expect is that he’ll be issuing instructions step-by-step to keep us scrambling.”
“In case anyone tries to grab him again.”
“Exactly. Although his primary defense against a snatch is still his dead-man setup. Where are you now?”
“About an hour from Quepos.”
“The jet will be waiting for you there. It’ll take you to Washington National. Give the FBI agent a lift if she wants it, but get clear of her after that. Stay in the area tonight, and be ready to roll by 0700 tomorrow.”
“Roger that.”
He clicked off. Paula said, “So you’re going to be the courier.”
Ben glanced over. He hadn’t said that much on the call, but it had been enough. “Looks like it.”
“You okay with that?”
He shrugged. “Is there a reason not to be?”
“Well, some people might consider Larison to be a pretty dangerous character, for one.”
Of all the reasons Ben might have been concerned, danger just wasn’t one of them. He thought about saying something about how danger was part of the business, but decided it would sound cheesy. Or that she would just accuse him of being a hard-ass again.
“I’ll be careful,” he said.
“I could go with you.”
“Actually, you can’t. Larison said it has to be a single courier.”
“Did he really say that?”
“He did.”
“Well, damn.”
“Look, it’s all over now but the logistics. Somebody’s got to give him the diamonds. It could be anyone. It just happens to be me. By tomorrow evening, or the next day at the latest, this thing will be done. After that, the tapes will be released or they won’t be released, but that particular problem is above our pay grade.”
She didn’t answer.
“Okay? Paula, this isn’t up to me.”
Still no response.
“Look, if anything changes, I’ll let you know.”
“How?”
“Well, you live in D.C., right?”
“Fairfax. Why?”
“It’s just, I don’t have a place to stay tonight—”
She laughed.
“—and I’m always looking for ways to improve those interagency relations.”
“Yes, you’ve been diligent about that.”
“I try.”
“You know, last night was nice—”
“This morning, too.”
“And this morning, too. But having you stay at my apartment … right now, that’s too much for me.”
“More of the ‘you wanted to be fucked, not made love to’ thing.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I could just fuck you, then. I’m pretty flexible that way.”
She laughed again.
“Seriously,” he said. “Was this just a one-off? Because, when you weren’t trying to punch me in the face and bite my ear off, I thought it was pretty good.”
She nodded. “It was good. A little … crazy. But good.”
“So?”
“So I think I need a little time to digest everything that just happened, okay? Not just with you. With everything.”
———
They barely spoke on the flight back. Paula’s eyes were closed for hours but Ben sensed she wasn’t sleeping—that she was instead simply withdrawing into herself. Withdrawing from him. He watched her and noticed for the first time how long her lashes were. He noticed not for the first time how good she looked in the sundress. But neither of these observations felt relevant. It was as though she’d pulled down a steel curtain between them. She seemed as distant and unreachable as though the night before hadn’t ever happened.
They went through customs and then through the terminal. Standing outside arrivals, diesel buses and honking taxis lurching past, the midday Washington sun superheating the humidity around them, Ben tried to think of the right thing to say. And couldn’t.
“Are you … sorry?” he asked.
“Not exactly.”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s a ringing endorsement if ever I heard one.”
She shook her head. “I’m just … confused.”
“I tried to tell you it was a bad idea.”
“I don’t remember you trying all that hard.”
“Believe me, I did.”
“Well, maybe I should have listened.”
“Yeah, maybe you should have.” It came out harsher than he’d intended, but still.
She nodded slowly, then said, “I need to go.” She turned and started to move away.
“Paula.”
She turned back to him.
“I know you need to write some kind of report. You should … be careful what you put in it.”
She took a step closer. “Are you threatening me?”
He felt irritation rising and pushed it away. “First of all, I don’t threaten. And second, no, all I’m doing is giving you some well-intentioned advice. As a friend. Those Ground Branch guys in Los Yoses knew your name. There’s still a lot we don’t know about this whole thing, and what we don’t know is making certain people extremely twitchy.”
She didn’t answer.
“But hey, write whatever the hell you want.” He turned to go.
“Ben. Wait.”
He turned. For a moment, she looked like she was genuinely struggling with something. Her mouth opened, then closed. She pursed her lips, and it was as though her expression were somehow … dissolving. For a second, he thought she might cry.
“What?” he said.
Then her face solidified again and she shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, and walked away.
He watched her heading toward the Metro. He was having trouble believing she could just walk away to write a report while he delivered the diamonds to Larison. Well, she didn’t have much choice. Still, if the shoe had been on the other foot, he would have been humiliated, furious. Maybe that’s what was bugging her.<
br />
His phone buzzed. Hort.
“Yeah.”
“Are you still at National?”
“Yeah, we just landed.”
“Lanier?”
He watched. “She’s gone.”
“Good. Larison just called in. He’s moved up the delivery. Told us to have a jet ready to leave from National at 1800.”
“Where did the call come from?”
“We can’t pinpoint these satellite phone calls because from geosynchronous orbit, the footprint is too big. It could have come from Costa Rica. Or the southeastern United States. Or anywhere in between.”
“You think he’d have the diamonds delivered in Costa Rica?”
“I don’t know. Before, I would have said not a chance, but now that Nico’s known, maybe he thinks it doesn’t make a difference.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Larison has the number of the phone I gave you. He’s going to call you at 1800 with instructions on where you’ll be flying. We’re refueling and servicing the jet you just came in on and it’ll be ready.”
“What does he know about me?”
“Not a single thing outside you’re a guy delivering a package. From his standpoint, you might as well be a pizza delivery man.”
“Hell of a pizza.”
“Yeah. I’ll meet you on the Crystal City Metro platform in one hour with the diamonds. Yellow Line, in the direction of Huntington.”
Ben wondered if Hort was choosing such a public location to reassure him again. It wasn’t really necessary. If Hort had wanted to set him up, there had been plenty of opportunities already. Or he could have just left him in the Manila city jail.
“I’ll be there,” Ben said.
An hour later, on the Crystal City platform, amid bored, oblivious commuters walking and waiting beneath the science fiction hush of the vaulted cement ceilings, Ben spotted Hort coming toward him in civilian clothes, a backpack over his shoulders. He saw Ben and walked over.
They shook hands. Ben eyed the backpack. “Is there really a hundred million dollars in there?” he said.
“There is. Twenty-three pounds, in case you’re curious. Don’t lose it.” He slipped the pack off and handed it to Ben.
“Don’t I have to sign for this?”
