“I’ll have to take a look at it.”
“Of course.”
“Where will your man be seated?” Dymec asked.
“There will be three in the back. He will be in the center.”
“Who will be driving?”
“My colleague.”
“He will go slowly?”
“He’ll probably go around the block if you miss the first time,” I said.
Boggs didn’t find that amusing; neither did Dymec. He was all business.
Boggs had another question: “What kind of weapon do you plan to use?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“My Prime Minister has expressed a preference.”
“What is it?”
“He prefers not to be shot with a gun of English manufacture.”
Sixteen
When Boggs was at the door he turned to me and said: “I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow.”
“All right.”
“You’ll continue with the planning?”
“Yes.”
“There must be no mistakes.”
“We can’t control the weather.”
He nodded slightly. “True. But if you’re a religious man, you should pray. If not, you should hope very hard.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He looked at Dymec and the Pole stared back at him with his expressionless slate-colored eyes.
“We may not meet again.”
Dymec just nodded; he said nothing.
“Your reputation is encouraging. I advise you to do nothing to diminish it.”
“I know my job,” Dymec said. “If the other arrangements are properly made, my performance will be satisfactory.”
Boggs looked as if he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind, and opened the door. “Good night,” he said and left.
I waited until I could no longer hear his footsteps on the stairs.
“What kind of rifle do you want?” I asked.
Dymec shrugged. “Since I won’t be using it, anything will do.”
“Suppose you were going to use it, what would you want?”
“A Winchester Model 70, the target rifle with a 4X scope and two rounds of .30–06.”
“You need two rounds?”
“No. I only need one. But there’s always the chance of a misfire.”
“We’ll try to find it, but you may have to settle for something less sporting.”
Dymec yawned and stretched. He seemed bored by the whole thing. “How far will this farce be carried?”
“As far as necessary.”
“Have you learned where they’re holding your wife?”
“No.”
“It would seem to me that your entire scheme depends on that. If you don’t find her, you may wish me to carry out the actual assignment. I’ll be glad to, of course, but it will cost you a little more.”
“We hope to avoid that.”
He yawned again. He was either bored or it was far past his bedtime. “Of course. But if you do change your mind, I’ll cooperate — for a slight additional fee.”
“To satisfy an idle curiosity, just what do you consider a slight additional fee?”
“In the neighborhood of ten thousand dollars.”
“That’s a high-class neighborhood.”
“There would be no shares to the other two, either.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I told him. “When do you plan to look the hotel over?”
“Tomorrow. Early tomorrow morning I think would be best. It should be quiet then.”
“We’ll meet with Padillo tomorrow.”
“He knows how to reach me.”
He stood up and moved towards the door. “Your friend from Africa seemed a bit edgy.”
“I suppose he doesn’t do this every day.”
“Probably not.” He yawned once more, but this time he remembered to cover it with his hand. “Well, good night.”
“Good night,” I said. “Pleasant dreams.”
Dymec left and I listened to his footsteps clatter down the stairs. I got up and walked over to the window and peeked out around the edge of the shade. A dark blue or black car was parked across the street and down some seventy-five feet. It turned on its lights as Dymec came out of the building. He looked up at the window, then hurried across the street and got into the car. It started up and sped by the window. I didn’t get the license number. There was really no need. Boggs was the driver. I assumed Dymec was no longer yawning.
I crossed over to the desk and dialed Padillo’s number. There was no answer. I turned off the lights, made sure the door was locked, and walked down the stairs. I looked for a cab, but there was none. A man shuffled out of the shadows and touched me on the arm.
“Friend, I won’t lie to you,” he said. “I need a drink bad.”
“So do I,” I said, and gave him fifty cents and he God-blessed me and moved on down the street. There seemed to be a little more spring to his step. I wondered where he bought his drinks after the bars were closed. A cab came by and the driver looked me over carefully before he stopped.
“Can’t be too careful down here,” he said. “You can get all sorts of loonies.”
He chattered away some more about the hardships of a cab driver’s life, but I didn’t listen. I was brooding about my own troubles. He let me out at my apartment building and I pretended not to notice the car with the two men that was parked across the street.
I got off the elevator and opened my door. Padillo and Sylvia Underhill were sitting on the couch. She looked a little flustered, but Padillo seemed calm enough as he wiped away the lipstick.
“I’ll knock next time,” I said and crossed over to the bar. When I had the drink I moved over to my favorite chair and sat down. “You kiddies have a good evening? Your chaperones are across the street.”
“The teeny-boppers on M Street seemed to enjoy themselves,” Padillo said. “How do we avoid them?”
“I keep raising the prices,” I said. “They think they’re being exploited.”
“How’d your session go?” he asked.
“Fine. Just fine,” I said. “Dymec’s crossing us. Boggs left first. Dymec stayed for five or ten minutes. When he left I peeked and saw him get into Boggs’s car.”
Padillo nodded. “I thought he would. The other question is whether Magda or Price will cross with him.”
“You expected him to go over?”
“Five minutes after I made him the proposition, he was on the phone.”
“With whom?”
“With whoever’s running him for the Poles and then with the Africans.”
“I thought you’d doubled him.”
Padillo smiled. “I did. But this is too good. He can’t pass it up. They’ll tell him to go ahead and get rid of the old man. The propaganda value to them is as much or more than it would be to Boggs and Darragh. He wouldn’t tell his Resident about me. He can’t or he’d expose his moonlighting for the U.S. He probably said that he was indirectly approached and wanted instructions. The information alone will keep them smiling in Warsaw for days. If it comes off, they’ll be even happier.”
“Sometimes,” I said, “not every day, of course, but sometimes you might just give me an idea of what you’re up to.”
“I did,” he said. “I told you to keep Dymec there for ten minutes or so after Boggs left. If you’d let them leave together, they’d have thought you were setting them up. This way it’s their own idea.”
“What if I hadn’t looked out the window?”
“I’d have been disappointed in you.”
“But it wouldn’t have mattered?”
“Not really. Of the three of them, I figured Dymec for the cross although Magda is also a likely candidate. He’ll probably swing her over to make sure we don’t get to Fredl.”
I put my drink down carefully on a coaster and lighted a cigarette. “So of the three people you brought in, two of them are going to cross us.”