"We will see." She dismissed him as she turned her attention to the money. The two kobun had carefully removed their shiny black leather jackets now and laid them on the table. Underneath they wore tightly tailored white shirts, complete with underarm holsters containing 9mm Llamas. The automatics were back in their briefcases, positioned by the door. Stripped down for action, they were quickly and professionally tallying the certificates, one handling the open cashiers checks and the other the bearer bonds.
Guess they intend to keep a close eye on the details, Vance thought.
Well, screw them. We've still got the protocol. We've got some leverage left.
But he was having trouble focusing on the future. He was still in shock from the sight of Novosty being gunned down in cold blood. Alex's abrupt death was a tragic end to an exceptional, if sometimes dubious, career. He'd really wanted Novosty to make this one last score. The man deserved it. He was an operator who lived at the edge, and Vance had always admired players who put everything on the table, no matter which side.
Well, he told himself, the scenario had come close, damned close. But maybe it was doomed from the start. You only get so many chances to tempt the fates. Today everybody's number came up, Alex's for the last time.
Rest in peace, Aleksei Ilyich.
Then Vera turned back to them. "Now, I want the computer. We know it was moved to the house in Kensington, but our search this morning did not locate it."
So they were on to us from the start, Vance realized.
"Looks like you've got a problem." He strolled over and plopped down in one of the straight-backed chairs along the opposite wall. "Too bad."
"No, you have a problem." She examined him confidently. "Because if those materials are not returned to us, we will be forced to take actions you may find harsh."
"Give it your best shot," he went on, glancing at Eva and hoping they could keep up the bravado, "because we've got a few cards in our hand too. Forget the money — that's history now — but we could still be in a position to blow your whole project sky high."
"You two are the only ones outside our organization who know about the protocol. That knowledge will not be allowed to go any farther."
"Don't be so sure. For all you know, we've already stashed a copy somewhere. Left word that if anything happens to either one of us, the package gets sent to the papers. Made public. Think what some premature headlines would do for your little project."
"We have thought about it, Mr. Vance. That contingency has been covered."
"Well, if I don't know what the other player's got, I tend to trust my own cards."
But why play at all? he suddenly found himself musing. Fold this hand and go for the next move.
Before leaving Crete he'd transmitted a copy of the protocol, still in its encrypted form, to his office computer in Nassau. At the time it'd merely seemed like prudence; now it might turn out to be a lifeline. One phone call and it could be transmitted back here this very afternoon. The magic of satellites in space. Knock out another quick translation and they'd only have lost one day. What the hell. Use that as a fallback position. Time, that's all it would take, just a little more time.
"But what does it matter? The game's up anyway." He nodded toward Vera, then turned to Eva, sending her a pointed signal.
"What was it Shakespeare said about discretion and valor," she concurred, understanding exactly what he was thinking.
"The man knew when to fish and when to cut bait."
"True enough. Shall you tell them or shall I?"
"You can do the honors."
She walked over and picked up her briefcase. "You didn't really think we'd leave it, did you, Comrade? So just take it and good riddance. A little gift from the NSA. Who says America's getting stingy with its foreign aid?"
Comrade Karanova motioned for the two kobun to take the case. "See if it's there."
As they moved to comply, Vance found himself wondering if this really was going to turn off the heat. Somehow it no longer seemed adequate.
"Hai so," he grunted through his teeth as he lifted it, "something is here." Vance noticed that two digits of the little finger on his left hand were missing, along with another digit on his ring finger. Good thing Ken was never a street man, he thought fleetingly. Guess bankers get to pay for their mistakes with something besides sections of finger.
"Then take it out," Vera commanded. "We are running out of time."
You've got that right, lady, Vance thought. Three men were just killed. That personal Boeing of Tanzan Mino's better be warming up its Pratt & Whitney's right now. London's about to get too hot for you.
One of the kobun withdrew the Zenith. He placed it on the mahogany table, then unlatched the top and lifted it up, only to stare at the blank gray screen, unsure what he was supposed to do next.
Vera knew. She reached for the switch on the side and clicked it on, then stood back and turned to Eva.
"Call up the file. I want to see if you have really broken the encryption, the way you said."
"Truth time," she laughed, then punched up the translation.
Project Daedalus.
And there it was.
Comrade Karanova studied it a moment, as though not quite believing her eyes. But she plainly had seen it before. "Congratulations. We were sure no one would be able to break the encryption, not even you." She glanced around. "You are very clever."
"Okay," Vance interjected, "I'm sure we all have better things to do this morning. So why don't you take the damned thing and get out of here. It's what you wanted. Just go and we'll all try and forget any of this ever happened."
She flipped down the computer's screen, then turned back. "Unfortunately nothing is ever that simple. I'm sorry to have to tell you two that we haven't seen the last of each other." She paused, then continued. "In fact, we are about to become much better acquainted."
"What do you mean?"
"You once told me, back when we met on the plane from Athens, you would welcome that. You should be happy that your wish is now about to be granted. You both are going to be our guests."
"That's kind of you." He stared at her, startled. "But we can probably bear up to the separation."
"No, I must insist. You were right about the difficulties. Your death now would be awkward, for a number of reasons. Alex will be trouble enough to explain, but that is purely an internal Soviet matter. Moscow Narodny can cover it. However, eliminating you two would raise awkward inquiries. On the other hand, you represent a security risk to the project. Consequently we have no option. Surely you understand."
He understood all too well. This was the one turn he hadn't figured on.
Almost eight years. It had been that long ago. But what had Ken said? The Tokyo oyabun never forgot. What this really meant was that Tanzan Mino wanted to settle the score first hand. What did he have planned?
Vance had a sudden feeling he didn't want to know. It was going to be a zero-sum game. Everything on the table and winner take all.
The Uzi. The goddam Uzi. Why hadn't they brought it?
It was still back in Kensington, where they'd stashed it in the false bottom of a new suitcase. But if the Mino-gumi had been searching only for a computer, maybe they'd missed it. So Tanzan Mino's hoods could still be in for a surprise. Just make an excuse to go back.
Vera was aware an Uzi had been part of their deal for the limo, but maybe that fact had momentarily slipped her mind, what with all the important things she had to think about. Or maybe she'd assumed Alex had kept it, or maybe she thought it was still in the car. Whatever she thought, things were moving too fast now.