Sonny smiled.
“You were saying?” Arthur said.
“Police supply houses, police precincts...”
“You’re planning elementary substitution, hmm?”
The “hmm?” was an annoying verbal tic that threaded his conversation like a shiny metallic wire.
“I’m not sure,” Sonny said. “But I’ll need to know which precinct the Plaza is in...”
“Of course. But you realize, don’t you, that we’re still not sure he’ll be at the Canadian affair?”
“I’ll be there, anyway.”
“Ready to improvise, hmm? Play it by ear, so to speak.”
“No, I’ll have a plan by then.”
“It’s not that far off, you know.”
“I’ll have a plan, don’t worry.”
“You’ll want to check out the Baroque Room...”
“Is that where the...?”
“Yes, sorry. I got that today.”
“Still at the Plaza?”
“Yes. The Baroque Room at the Plaza Hotel. It’d be convenient if he did decide to come, wouldn’t it? Get him and the bitch at the same time, hmm? But I haven’t yet heard if that’s likely. The Statue of Liberty’ll be harder. It’s on an island, you know...”
“I know.”
“... and security will be very tight, I imagine. So...”
“I’ll need the number of that precinct, too.”
“I’ll get it for you. But... I was about to say... if you’re planning to go in as a cop, it might be extremely difficult. The space is too confined, and getting close to him...”
“That’s what I’ll have to figure out.”
“Be much easier at the Plaza. Big ballroom, lots of space to roam around in, lots of exits and entrances. Even so, it won’t be easy. I don’t know what kind of security the British will provide for Thatcher, if any at all, now that she’s out of office, but I’m sure the Canadians and Mexicans’ll have agents all over the place. And if Bush does show up...” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Be literally thick with them, hmm?”
Sonny nodded. He was thinking that either way — the ballroom or the island — he might have to do a lay-in job. He didn’t want to discuss that quite yet, not until he knew for sure what his weapon would be and how he would...
“What weapon did you plan to use?” Arthur asked.
Mind reader, Sonny thought.
“I don’t know yet. I didn’t know this was a No-Fail till just...”
“Of course. The point is, will you need help?”
“Maybe.”
“You’ll let me know, of course.”
“Of course.”
“You know,” Arthur said, and hesitated. “The Canadian affair is on the first. That’s only five days away.”
“I realize that. But I got here as soon as I could. My outside deadline...”
“Of course, I’m merely saying. The point is... if you have to go for the second option, that’s only three days later. So if you’ll need any weaponry assistance from us... will you be considering explosives, for example?”
“I’m not considering anything yet.”
“Because we have a man who can rig whatever kind of...”
“So can I.”
“Of course. Forgive me. I’m merely saying we can help you with whatever...”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Phone me if you...”
“The Chinese girl and the other one, are they...?”
“Not Scimitar, but yes, with us, of course. She’s not Chinese, by the way. She’s from Bali.”
“Oh.”
“In any case, you don’t have to go through the SeaCoast line. The number you have is my private line and completely secure. As I told you.”
“How soon can you get me the information I need?”
“I’ll put someone on it...”
“Because the sooner the...”
“I was about to say I’ll put someone on it immediately, hmm?”
All at once, it was clear to Sonny that Arthur did not enjoy having his authority questioned. Fuck him, Sonny thought. Time was of the essence here, and he preferred directness to convolution. His plans had to be formulated as soon as possible, the one for the ballroom, the contingency plan for the island. If Arthur couldn’t get the information he needed quickly, then he would go elsewhere for it.
“I’ll need some cash, too,” he said.
“How much?” Arthur said at once.
“A few thousand for now. Perhaps more when I know what my plans will be.”
“Fine,” Arthur said, and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He took from it a small, grey, metal cash box, unlocked it, and removed from it a sheaf of banded hundred-dollar bills. Breaking the paper band around the bills, he began counting them out.
“You know how important this is to us, don’t you?” he asked, counting, his head bent.
“I do,” Sonny said.
“You won’t fail us, hmm?” he said, and looked up sharply, his eyes meeting Sonny’s.
“I won’t,” Sonny said.
“I hope not,” Arthur said, and smiled, and handed the bills across the desk to him. They felt new and crisp. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Is there a safe house? If I should need one?”
“Of course.”
“Where is it?”
“In Westhampton,” Arthur said.
The call from Miles Heatherton came at twelve-ten that Friday afternoon, just as Geoffrey was leaving the office for lunch. A glance at his watch told him that his stomach was understandably growling and that, incidentally, it was already a bit past closing time in London.
The first words Heatherton said were, “Are you having us on, Geoff?”
“How do you mean?” Geoffrey asked.
“This second passport notification request.”
Geoffrey had rung London at eleven this morning, shortly after Santorini had left the consulate office. The detective had seemed almost gleeful that yet another British subject had turned up dead in this insufferably hot and murderous city. With an identical scimitar tattoo on her breast, no less. Which report Heatherton had received silently and non-committally, promising to call on Monday. It was not yet Monday. It was merely lunchtime today — and thank God it’s Friday, as the natives were fond of saying. Geoffrey waited now for whatever dire information Heatherton was about to transmit.
“Having you on how?” he prompted.
“The two persons she listed in the passport?”
“Yes.”
Get on with it, he thought.
“Non-existent,” Heatherton said.
“I see.”
“And it’s the same passport.”
“How do you mean?” Geoffrey asked.
“As the first one. The name on it is different, of course, Angela Cartwright on this new one, as opposed to Gillian Holmes on the first one...”
Oh dear, Geoffrey thought.
“And the dates and places of birth are different as well. Colchester in 1943 for the Holmes woman, London in 1937 for the Cartwright woman.”