"I hope to hell you're right. Just to be safe, though, I'll give you a contact who can see that somebody keeps an eye on him."
31
Strings of multi-colored Oriental lanterns criss-crossed the smoothly-clipped green lawn, their small lights becoming more visible as the fading sun slowly dipped behind the Northern Virginia hills. Red tablecloths along the brick terrace at the rear of the spacious two-story house caught the lengthening rays and appeared to glow like hot coals. The hostess also glowed. That beautiful sun had been a godsend. The possibility of rain had kept Lori Hill's fingers and toes crossed for days now. But judging by the reaction of the crowd, the party was a terrific hit. Despite all the expensive trappings, though, for many of the guests, particularly the ladies, the star attraction so far had been the Hill twins, Liz and Cam, who were a precocious pair for tots in their "terrible twos."
"You're giving the neighborhood a hell of a challenge," said Will Arnold, the tall, tanned computer expert who lived next door.
Burke Hill let go of little Liz's hand and she went bouncing off like a rubber doll in pursuit of her brother, who was being shepherded by Arnold's wife, Maggie. Burke raised a questioning eyebrow. "What do you mean? What kind of challenge?"
Will spread his arms out to take in the crowd of people who were milling about the area between the back of the house and the woods at the rear of the two-acre lot. "How's anybody going to top this?"
It was the last week in June and dusk had brought little change in the day's sizzle. The temperature hovered in the mid-eighties. The casually-dressed guests toted their drinks and hors d'oeuvre plates about the lawn, moving from one buffet setup to the next. Each area was decorated to represent a different country or popular tourist destination in the U.S. Among the imaginative replicas were a London pub and a Japanese sushi bar. The areas featured food native to the town or country. A few provided entertainment by musicians dressed for the part, including a New Orleans jazz group and a mariachi band.
Burke grinned at Will Arnold and shrugged his broad shoulders. "Don't blame me. This is Lori's party. Can you believe that production outfit spent two days setting all this up?"
"Not bad for recreating half the globe."
"She's been talking about a tenth anniversary bash ever since we were married, and that's been nearly four years. When my wife decides to do something big, she does it big."
"Clipper Cruise & Travel is surely coining the dough," said Will. "She must have dropped a bundle on this. Looks like she invited half of Washington."
"A lot of airline and hotel people, bus tour operators, folks like that. Clipper can afford it. I don't handle her accounting, but I read the statements. Her travel business is doing okay."
Lori walked up just then, carrying a cup of New Orleans gumbo. "Where are the kids?" she asked. "I thought you were helping Maggie keep track of them?"
"She's got both in tow," Will said. "She's somewhere over there around Mexico. I guess they're listening to La Cucaracha, or whatever it is they're playing."
"Great party," Burke said with a grin. "Looks like the caterer's got everything under control. How's the gumbo?"
Lori gave him the okay sign with thumb and forefinger joined, then tossed her head, letting her long black tresses fall to one side. It made a sharp contrast to her husband's short gray hair, but, then, she was twenty years his junior. She was also a singularly attractive woman whose large, impish eyes had intrigued Burke from the start, creating a bit of mystery about her face. "Speaking of Mexico," she said, "did you get everything packed?"
"Yeah. I hate like hell to be leaving you before all this mess is cleaned up. But I'll only be gone a few days."
She gave him a grim smile. "You can manage to head out of the country at the most inopportune times, dear." The most infamous had been his traumatic venture to Korea just before the twins were due. That one had involved something called Operation Hangover.
Will grinned. "This sounds like it might deteriorate into fisticuffs. I'd better get over there and give Maggie a hand." He hustled off toward Mexico.
"I wish you'd agree to my idea to find a nanny to look after the kids," Burke said. "I know you like the day care center, and I'm sure they do a great job. But there are too many times when we can't keep a normal schedule and a sitter's unavailable. I hate to impose on Maggie all the time."
Lori shrugged. "We might find some girl just out of college who hasn't found a job. But I don't like the idea of Liz and Cam thinking some young thing is their mommy. Anyway, Maggie would kill me if I didn't let her keep them now and then."
How to care for the twins had been a sore spot between them lately. It was one of those manifestations of the generation gap that plagued them on occasion. His mother had been a high school teacher in a small Missouri town when he was just a little tyke. That was during the Depression and the family had little money. Nevertheless, she had paid a young black girl to clean house and look after him during the day until he was old enough to start school.
Burke knew he was fighting a losing battle when Lori twitched her nose and promptly changed the subject.
"I've been so busy getting ready for this party I've hardly had time to ask about your trip," she said. "Mexico isn't in your 'Amber' territory. I presume this has to do with the financial end."
"Right. We're running an audit on the Mexico City office. I also need to look into some dealings with the banks down there. It's strictly a 'Blue' affair."
"Amber" and "Blue" were code words dealing with Burke's employer, Worldwide Communications Consultants. The international public relations firm headquartered in Washington was widely known as a major player in the PR field. What was not intended to be known outside its Sixteenth Street headquarters, the CIA's top executives, and a few key players at the White House was its clandestine role. Created some four years earlier at the request of the nation's top intelligence officer, with concurrence of the President, Worldwide was both a legitimate PR practitioner ("Blue" operations) and a highly secret spinoff of the Central Intelligence Agency ("Amber" operations). In addition to being corporate treasurer and chief financial officer, Burke was director of clandestine activities for Europe, the Middle East and the Far East. The company had overseas offices in Berlin, Tel Aviv, Moscow, Hong Kong, Seoul, and Mexico City. Only the latter, the destination of his upcoming trip, did not fall under his jurisdiction for secret intelligence operations.
As a former CIA officer herself, a second generation one, in fact, who provided the Agency with travel arrangements for clandestine operations, Lori was privy to the broad outlines of her husband's classified activities. It had been decided from the start to bring her in on the basic scheme of Worldwide's operation. Otherwise, it was feared, her knowledge and contacts could easily lead to well-informed speculation that might put the company in peril.
As Burke and Lori discussed his Mexico City plans, two of the guests stood near the Japanese display, nibbling hesitantly at small portions of sushi, obviously unsure whether it was a delicacy they really wanted to pursue. On another count they were more certain, and they watched their hosts with more than normal curiosity.
"How does an old geezer like him rate a cool chick like her?" asked the young man whose name was Art. He had the tan of a surfer, the physique of a weight lifter and the refinement of a barbell.
"Old geezer my ass," growled his partner, a tall, thin man in his forties known as Sarge. A former New York City cop, he had an aversion to sentimentality but a true admiration for anybody with real guts. "You'll think old geezer after you get a few more years under that belt. You must not have paid much attention to his bio. That guy is a former FBI special agent who got screwed by old man Hoover. Several years ago, practically single-handed, he took on a bunch of conspirators, renegade factions of the CIA and KGB, who were out to assassinate the American and Soviet presidents. He came out the winner."