He chewed on a fatty piece of ham to prove his point.
“How much medication are you on, Cal?” Allerdyce asked.
Cal Waits nearly choked with laughter. “About a bottle of pills a day. I got little pink ones and big blue ones and some capsule things that’re white at one end and yellow at the other. I got red pills so small you practically need tweezers to pick them up, and I got this vast pastel tablet I take once a day that’s the size of a bath plug. Don’t ask me what they do, I just gobble them down.”
He poured himself another half-glass of ‘83 Montrose. Despite hailing from California, Waits preferred the wines of Bordeaux. He was rationed to half a bottle a day, and drank perhaps twice that. That was another reason Allerdyce liked him: he didn’t give a shit.
Allerdyce could see no subtle way into the subject he wanted to raise, and doubtless Cal would see through him anyway. “You were raised in Southern California?” he asked.
“Hell, you know I was.”
“Near San Diego, right?”
“Right. I went to school there.”
“Before Harvard.”
“Before Harvard,” Waits acknowledged. Then he chuckled again. “What is this, Jeffrey? You know I went to Harvard but pretend you don’t know where I was born and raised!”
Allerdyce bowed his head, admitting he’d been caught. “I just wanted to ask you something about San Diego.”
“I represent it in the Senate, I should know something about it.”
Allerdyce watched Waits shovel another lump of sausage into his mouth. Waits was wearing a dark-blue suit of real quality, a lemon shirt, and a blue silk tie. Above all this sat his round face, with the pendulous jowls cartoonists loved to exaggerate and the small eyes, inset like a pig’s, always sparkling with the humor of some situation or other. They were sparkling now.
“You ever have dealings with CWC?”
“Co-World Chemicals, sure.” Waits nodded. “I’ve attended a few functions there.”
“Do you know Kosigin?”
Waits looked more guarded. The twinkle was leaving his eyes. “We’ve met.” He reached for another roll and tore it in two.
“What do you think of him?”
Waits chewed this question over, then shook his head. “That’s not what you want to ask, is it?”
“No,” Allerdyce quietly confessed, “it isn’t.”
Waits’s voice dropped uncharacteristically low. His voice box was the reason Allerdyce had needed a table away from other diners. “I feel you’re getting around to something, Jeffrey. Will I like it when we arrive?”
“It’s nothing serious, Cal, I assure you.” Allerdyce’s magret was almost untouched. “It’s just that Kosigin has hired Alliance’s services, and I like to know about my clients.”
“Sure, without asking them to their face.”
“I like to know what people think of them, not what they would like me to think of them.”
“Point taken. Eat the goose, Jeffrey, it’s getting cold.”
Allerdyce obeyed the instruction, and sat there chewing. Waits swallowed more wine and dabbed his chin with the napkin.
“I know a bit about Kosigin,” Waits said, his voice a quiet rumble seeming to emanate from his chest. “There’s been an investigation, not a big one, but all the same…”
Allerdyce didn’t ask what kind of investigation. “And?” he said instead.
“And nothing much, just a bad feeling about the whole operation. Or rather, about the way Kosigin’s headed. It’s like he’s building autonomy within the corporation. The only person he seems to answer to is himself. And the people he hires… well, let’s just say they’re not always as reputable as you, Jeffrey. This Kosigin seems to like to hang around with minor hoods and shady nobodies.”
“You think CWC is in trouble?”
“What?”
“You think something’s going to blow up.” It was a statement, not a question.
Waits smiled. “Jeffrey, CWC is one of the largest chemical companies in the world. And it’s American. Believe me, nothing‘s going to blow up.”
Allerdyce nodded his understanding. “Then the investiga-tion…?”
Waits leaned across the table. “How can the authorities protect American interests unless they know what problems might arise?” He sat back again.
Allerdyce was still nodding. Cal was telling him that the powers-the FBI, maybe the CIA-were keeping tabs on CWC in general and Kosigin in particular; not to root out illegalities, but to ensure those illegalities-whatever shortcuts Kosigin was taking, whatever black economy he was running-never, ever came to light. It was like having the whole system as your bodyguard! Jeffrey Allerdyce, normally so cool, so detached, so unflappable, so hard to impress… Jeffrey Allerdyce sat in Ma Petite Maison and actually whistled, something no diner there-not even his old friend Cal Waits-had ever seen him do. Something they might never see him do again.
He gathered his thoughts only slowly, picking at the goose. “But,” he said at last, “they wouldn’t protect him from every contingency, surely? I mean, if he became a threat to the standing of CWC in the world, then he wouldn’t-?”
“He’d probably lose their protection,” Waits conceded. “But how far would he have to go? That’s a question I can’t answer. I just know that I keep out of the guy’s way and let him get on with getting on.” Waits wiped his mouth again. “I did hear one rumor…”
“What?”
“That Kosigin has agency privileges.”
“You mean he’s special to them?” Allerdyce knew who Waits meant by “agency”: the CIA.
Cal Waits just shrugged. “What was he asking you to do anyway?”
“You know I can’t answer that, Cal. I wish I could tell you, but I’m bound by a vow of client confidentiality.”
Waits nodded. “Well, whatever it is, just do a good job, Jeffrey. That’s my advice.”
A waiter appeared at that moment. “Mr. Allerdyce? I’m sorry, sir, there’s a telephone call. A gentleman called Dulwater-he said you’d want to speak to him.”
Allerdyce excused himself.
The telephone was on the reception desk. A flunky held it out towards him, but Allerdyce just pointed to the receiver.
“Can you have that call transferred to the manager’s office?”
The flunky looked startled. He didn’t want to say no, but didn’t want to say yes either.
“Never mind,” Allerdyce snarled, snatching the telephone from a palm that was starting to sweat. “Dulwater?”
“Some bad news, sir.”
“Better not be.” Allerdyce looked around. “I’m in a public place; I’m sure cursing is frowned upon.”
“The UK operatives proved to be disadvantaged.”
“In plain English?”
“They weren’t up to it.”
“You assured me they were.”
“I was assured they were.”
Allerdyce sighed. “Should’ve sent our own men.”
“Yes, sir.”
Both of them were well aware that the decision had been Allerdyce’s; he’d wanted to save money on flights. So they’d used some firm in London instead.
“So what’s the damage?”
“They were confronted by the subject. They sustained a few injuries.”
“And the subject?”
“Apparently uninjured.”
Allerdyce raised one eyebrow at that. He wondered what sort of man this Reeve was. A grade-A tough bastard by the sound of it. “I take it they lost him?”
“Yes, sir. I doubt he’ll return home. Looks like he’s packed his wife and son off.”
“Well, it’s snafued, isn’t it, Dulwater?”
“We can try to pick up his trail.” Dulwater sounded unconvinced. He wasn’t sure why Allerdyce was so interested anyway. To his mind it was a wild goose chase.
“Let me think about it. Anything else?”
“Yes, sir. One of the men said Reeve asked him about his house being bugged, asked if our operative was responsible.”