“But, the Ethiopians…”
“Will say nothing. Theirs is a chaotic administration, and, if anything, they will be relieved that the draw on their food and medical resources will be lessened. I think you worry unduly,” Ghazi said.
“In recent years, all countries run to the United Nations the minute they perceive a threat against them.”
“So? Should it come out, we are only following orders.”
“That excuse did not go over well at Nuremberg,” al-Qati said.
“Nevertheless, we do have our orders, and we will follow them.”
The army commander must be under a great deal of pressure to go along with this fantastic scheme, al-Qati thought. He had always respected Ghazi for his rationality under stress, but this was completely irrational.
“Colonel, I appeal to…”
“In vain, I am afraid, Ahmed. We are committed.”
Ghazi did not say that he was committed, but he had grouped himself with the powers that were.
“As you say, Colonel,” al-Qati said. There was no other place to go, no other person to hear his argument.
“Now,” Ghazi said, “let us proceed to what I wished to discuss with you. The People’s Bureau,” — which was what the Leader had re-termed all of the embassies and consulates — “in Athens has forwarded to the intelligence bureau an interesting item.”
Al-Qati waited with the appearance of attention, even though his stomach churned.
“The Bureau has several agents in Washington, of course, and one, a student at Georgetown University, collected a rumour that may concern us. There are several reporters from different newspapers, and from the Cable News Network, dashing around the city asking questions about a group of F-4 Phantom fighter aircraft.”
“F-4 fighter airplanes?” al-Qati asked, just to be asking something.
“Indeed. Apparently, some men have prepared six of the airplanes for a special mission. The reporters appear to be grasping at straws, asking their sources what possible use the fighters could be put to. One theory in circulation concerns the chemical plant north of Marada.”
“That is speculation.”
“Very probably, Ahmed. And yes, rumours of other targets abound — Syria, the Bekaa Valley, some in China. Still, it is interesting that our fertilizer factory is mentioned prominently, is it not?”
Al-Qati did not think it interesting. He thought it irrelevant.
“What is of greater interest, Ahmed, is that these airplanes disappeared from wherever they were being held shortly after the Leader took his decision on Test Strike.”
Now, it was relevant. In al-Qati’s world, timing was everything.
“Do you think, Colonel, that news of the strike plan has leaked?”
“It is possible, Ahmed. More and more people have acquired knowledge since the decision was taken.”
“And the Americans will intervene?”
“I think not. Not as they did before. If it is to happen, it will be a covert operation, and that makes this rumour of unaffiliated fighter aircraft all the more suspicious.”
“What do you wish me to do, Colonel?”
“Ramad listens primarily to himself. When I bring up the matter in our meeting, I would like to have your support.”
“Of course. My support of you, or of my country, has never been in question.”
Al-Qati meant that sincerely, but he was beginning to question just how blindly he was to follow the instructions issued in Tripoli.
At one o’clock in the morning, Janice Kramer parked her Riviera in the parking lot of the Four Seasons Motel, locked it, and entered the lobby. She was wearing Levi’s and a red, low-cut Mexican peasant blouse, and three guys in the lobby, who had struck out earlier in the evening, instantly started to get out of their chairs. She chilled them with an icy glare of her green eyes.
What she ought to be, she thought, is home, curled up on her couch with a brandy snifter, revelling in her future prospects as Mrs. Andrew Wyatt. Her elation, so far, had been curtailed by her worry.
What she ought not to be doing was running Martin Church’s errands for him. He didn’t even pay her. Except indirectly, maybe.
She damned sure wouldn’t be here if the outcome wouldn’t help Andy.
She crossed to the lounge, which wasn’t being heavily utilized, and stood in the doorway for a few seconds, looking around.
“Hey, Jan!”
Arnie Gering raised his hand high from a booth on the sidewall.
She walked over to it, waving off the waitress, and sat across from him.
He eyed her blouse.
“Good to see you, Jan. I was sure glad you called.”
“I have a proposal for you, Arnie.”
“Yeah?”
“First, I need to know who you’ve talked to.”
“About the Nebraska thing?”
God, he was dense.
“Yes, Arnie. About the Nebraska thing.”
“Well, you know, I got hold of a reporter.”
“Just one?”
“A couple, maybe.”
“How many, Arnie?”
“Three.”
“Newspaper reporters?”
“Oh, and one guy from CNN.”
“Tell me what they said.”
He squirmed on his bench seat. “Well, they were, I guess, sceptical.”
“I can see why they would be.”
“They wanted documentation. With documentation, they said, I could get some big bucks.”
“How big?”
“Well, we haven’t gotten to that stage yet. You know, you could print out some stuff from the computer for me, Jan. We could split it, like, sixty-forty.”
“I get the sixty?”
“Well, I’m the one who made the calls, after all.”
“What else did they say?”
“Just that they’d look into it. Ask around.”
Church had told her that they were, indeed, asking around, but that they weren’t finding anything substantial enough to go to print with. Unless they got curious enough to give Gering a first-class ticket to Washington.
Kramer pulled the stack of bills from her purse. They were bound with a rubber band, and she had been so angry with Church’s suggestion that she didn’t even put the sheaf in an envelope. He had called it “damage control,” but she called it bribery. She laid it on the table and kept her hand on top of it.
Gering’s eyes left her breasts and landed on the bills. “That’s ten thousand,” she said.
“It’s damned good-looking. Can I count it?”
“Trust me. You can have it.”
Immediate suspicion crossed his face. “Yeah, but what’s it cost me?”
“Your signature.”
From her purse, she took the single sheet of paper and passed it across to him.
He struggled with it for a while, then said, “This is all legalese. What’s it really say?”
“That you go to jail for fifteen to twenty years if you say one more word about… the Nebraska thing. It has to do with national security, Arnie.”
He looked up at her then, and she saw the worry in his eyes. That made her feel better.
“Uh, they wouldn’t…”
“They might pick you up any day and hold you for arraignment. What they’re suggesting here is that it might be simpler to just make a deal.”
She made liberal use of that magic “they.” Everybody always worried about “them.”
“I sign this, and I get the ten thou?”
“That’s right. Then, if you say word one to anyone, you go right to Leavenworth. There won’t be any trial involved.”
She had written the agreement, following Church’s suggestions, and used as much gobbledygook language as she could. It wouldn’t stand up for more than thirty seconds in any courtroom in the land.