“The firm were asked by a National Security Council staff member to provide a local cover for John about two years ago. The whole operation of reestablishing our access channels into China was a big, complicated undertaking with a lot of moving parts that could come unstuck and cause considerable embarrassment all-around. Having someone around whose job it was to prevent that from happening seemed sensible so we readily agreed to the request.”
“Then Just John’s not CIA? He’s with the NSC?” I briefly considered the implications of that. “Doesn’t that mean he works for the White House?”
“Don’t be naive, Jack. Who the hell knows who John really is or who he really works for? And frankly, who cares? John Hanratty, or whatever his name really is, is one of the good guys. He represents the highest levels of American authority and he is doing work that is essential to the preservation of national security. Isn’t that good enough for you?”
“Not really. Not with Howard Kojinski swinging under the Taksin Bridge, Dollar on the run, and somebody stalking me around Bangkok. No, it isn’t nearly good enough.”
“Well, it’s going to have to be good enough, Jack.”
I had one really big question left to ask and I decided I’d better get to it before whatever goodwill I had with Stanley was completely exhausted.
“Where does Barry Gale fit into all this, Stanley, and what is he trying to get me involved in here? Is it something to do with these spy games you guys are playing with the Chinese?”
Stanley met my eyes squarely and he didn’t blink. He obviously wanted to convince me he was telling me the whole truth, at least as far as he knew what the whole truth was.
“I have no idea what this man Gale wants with you, Jack. I never heard of him until you told me about him today. But none of the rest of this has anything at all to do with you. That I can promise you.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Look, even if Howard or Dollar were going to ask your advice on some technical details concerning the work they were doing as you suspect, I’m certain they had no intention of cutting you in on the whole picture. Besides, they never got around to asking or telling you anything at all, did they? You are clearly not involved in this in any way, and I can’t see how anyone could think otherwise.”
“Then why am I under surveillance?”
“I doubt you are. But if you are, it must have something to do with Gale or his gangster buddies. It has nothing to do with your work for Dollar.”
“You’re sure it’s not Just John who’s keeping tabs on me?”
Stanley smiled for the first time in what seemed to be hours.
“You’re not that interesting, Jack. John Hanratty moves in higher circles than either of us. I sure he couldn’t care less what you’re doing.”
“Let’s put this plainly, Stanley. Just for the record. As far as you know, does any agency of the United States government have any interest in me at all?”
“Not unless it’s the IRS, Jack.”
Our conversation went on for a while after that as conversations sometimes do even when they’re already over, but nothing else of any importance was said by either of us. By the time I left Stanley it was dark, and I went back downstairs to my own office and just sat there a while thinking.
In real life, coincidences really did occur sometimes. When I thought about what Stanley had told me, I could see now why the Asian Bank of Commerce could have been in Dollar’s address book. According to Barry Gale, the bank was in the business of facilitating shady dealings for foreigners in Asia by providing them access to compliant banking facilities and bankers who didn’t ask too many questions. That would have been just the ticket for Howard and Dollar in setting up their Chinese money runs. Maybe there wasn’t any more to it than that. Probably Barry Gale would have known nothing about how Dollar and Howard had been using the ABC, so his sudden appearance in my life might well have nothing to do with them at all.
That still left unanswered the question of who killed Howard, of course, and exactly what Dollar might be hiding from now also remained a mystery; but Stanley was probably right about that, too. I had never actually been involved in whatever Dollar and Howard were doing. Regardless of what the answers to those two questions ultimately turned out to be, those answers would have nothing to do with me.
Looking at everything that way made me feel a lot better. I stood up, stretched, and collected my briefcase. It was time to go home.
As the elevator whirred down to the garage, I thought to myself again that it really did look like I was in the clear with regard to whatever Dollar and Howard might have been up to. Now if I could only find some way to get rid of Barry Gale, my life would be pretty much back to normal.
I climbed into the Volvo and drove home. I held onto that thought the entire way, enjoying it beyond all reason.
THIRTY TWO
When I got and took the elevator upstairs the first thing I noticed after the door opened at my floor was the faint odor of cigar smoke.
I reminded myself yet again either to clean up my act and cut down on my smoking or at least get the apartment aired out every now and then. It was a wonder to me that one of my neighbors hadn’t already complained to the residents’ committee and started a movement to get me thrown out of the building. It wasn’t until I opened the door to my apartment, dumped my briefcase, and crossed the entry hall into the living room that I realized the smoke I smelled wasn’t quite as stale as I had first thought.
“These are pretty good,” Tommy said, gesturing with the lighted cigar in his hand. “I generally prefer Cohibas, but Montecristos were all I could find around here and, like you Americans say, don’t look in the mouth of a horse that is a gift from somebody.”
“It’s ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’“
“Whatever.” Tommy took a long draw on the Montecristo. “My English may be a little rusty. Maybe you ought to help me with it, Jack.”
Tommy seemed to have made himself entirely at home there in my apartment. Although the living room was dim and he hadn’t turned on any lights, he looked comfortable enough settled as he was into one of the two leather chairs that were turned at right angles to each other in front of the big front window. The cigar he was holding was about half smoked, so I gathered he had probably been there for a while.
“Don’t just stand there, Jack. This is your apartment. Come in, come in.”
Tommy’s tone was so avuncular that for a moment I wondered if I had forgotten some arrangement we had made for him to be waiting there for me. I hadn’t, of course, and I stood looking at him as he took another long pull on the cigar and exhaled in a steady stream.
“Where’s your girlfriend, Jack?”
“She’s out. Somebody’s having a birthday party at the Oriental.”
My response was automatic and I immediately regretted it. Why did I owe Tommy an explanation for anything? After all, he had gotten into my apartment somehow and was lurking there in the dark waiting to ambush me when I came home. In my book that hardly entitled him to start asking questions, much less to get any answers.
“Okay, fine.” Tommy’s voice filled the room with a hearty, good-natured boom. “That’s good.”
I wondered what was good about it from Tommy’s point of view.
“How did you get in here?” I asked.
“You ought to be more concerned about how I’m going to get out of here, Jack. That’s what I’d be worried about if I were you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Why don’t you just sit down? This won’t take long.”
Tommy tapped the Montecristo against a green celadon bowl he had put on the floor by the chair to use as an ashtray. He smiled slowly in what I gathered he thought was a reassuring way. Other than grabbing Tommy and flinging him bodily through the living room window, I didn’t see what else I could do. And that didn’t seem like too hot an idea, so I sat down.