Chernin knew he now had an unshakable ally.
Mansur gave two quick nods. “Yes. Your life and mine, I’m afraid, are dependent on one another.”
“Correct. As obvious as that is, it is important, I think, for us to acknowledge it. If either of our governments learns that what I am about to tell you has been transmitted to the West, what remains of our lives will be worse than hell.”
“If it is that bad, then I suspect I’ll have to make arrangements to leave the country myself,” Mansur said.
“You’ll need to leave the country not only for helping my friend,” Chernin said, “but because it will be an extremely dangerous place in which to live.”
Park’s eyes flitted from Chernin to Mansur as they spoke. “So you will help?” he asked.
“The Iranian regime is insane,” Mansur replied to Park. “And I suspect the consequences of their insanity are about to be visited upon my country in a catastrophic way. I would do what I can to make achievement of their goals more difficult. So, of course I will help you. But first you will help me by supplying the details of the project in the mountains. I will then immediately make arrangements for your departure.” Mansur looked back to Chernin. “Dmitri, if you’re not also leaving, what will you do?”
Chernin did not reply immediately but took another sip of vodka. “I have received a good deal of compensation for my work on the project and I plan, quite unoriginally, to use it to retire to a dacha on the Black Sea. I will be safe — in fact, more than safe. I will be celebrated as a national hero.”
Mansur reached forward and clasped Chernin’s hand. “Should you change your mind, I can arrange passage for you also.”
Chernin smiled. “Always looking for a fee, Hamid.”
“No fee, Dmitri,” Mansur said earnestly. He looked to Park. “And now that we have come to the subject of price, Mr. Park, no fee for you, either. Use the money to disappear so that you’ll never be found.”
“Thank you,” Park said, “but I could not—”
“No need to thank me. Thank the Israelis. I will make your arrangements before you leave tonight. They do not know it yet, but they will be paying your fee, and quite a fee it will be.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Julie Webber had worked as a rental agent for Terrapin Estates for four years. During that time she’d seen scores of people in colorful outfits, many covered with sand or mud. The rental units, after all, catered primarily to anglers and crabbers who spent the week or weekend trying their luck on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.
The man standing before her was soaking wet and his pants and shoes were caked with mud. Julie barely registered his disheveled appearance, however, because he had the body of a gladiator. Most Terrapin Estates patrons were balding, middle-aged men with paunches who couldn’t have spiked her interest had she spent the last decade in solitary confinement. So she patiently accommodated the man’s inquiries despite the fact that company policy forbade giving out customer information.
“Sir,” Julie said sweetly as she viewed the desktop computer screen, “we don’t show any rentals to Bobby Martin. Could he be under another name?”
Garin made a show of looking puzzled. He’d come to Terrapin to track down the people who had been trying to kill him the last few days. The piece of paper he’d retrieved from the dead Iranian in Chevy Chase was a paper napkin bearing the local address of a Phillips Crab and Lobster House about a quarter mile down the road from the Terrapin Estates rental office. A friendly Phillips waitress hadn’t remembered anyone fitting the dead Iranian’s description, but she helpfully pointed out that a number of her customers were renters from Terrapin. Garin traveled over to the rental office and made up Bobby Martin and a story about joining Bobby and his fraternity brothers for a few days of drinking and fishing.
“Maybe the rental’s under the name of one of my other buddies,” Garin said. “Do you remember a party of five or six guys checking in?”
“I don’t. But they could’ve checked in late afternoon after I’m off. Any party larger than five would probably be in either the Anne Arundel or the Severn. Those are our biggest units — four bedrooms and a rollout in the living room. They can comfortably sleep eight.”
“Could you check to see if anyone’s checked into either of those cabins?” Garin asked. “The guys probably arrived a few days go. I was supposed to join them earlier but couldn’t get away from my job until now. And unfortunately for me, they’ve probably drunk up all the beer already.”
Julie moved the mouse and clicked the icon on the screen for Severn. “This might be them. Yep. Eight guys. Checked in to Severn a few days ago. Rental’s under the name Joe Jones.”
No points for originality, Garin thought.
“It looks like maybe some more of your friends checked into the Anne Arundel, too,” Julie continued as she manipulated the mouse. “Seven other guys checked in at the same time as the Severn boys. But they checked out on Saturday. Is a Jim Smith one of your fraternity brothers?”
“Yes,” Garin lied. “I didn’t think he was coming down.” Joe Jones and Jim Smith. The Iranians hadn’t wasted any effort on cover names, but they had sent an army to kill Garin and the rest of his team. Garin guessed that the seven who had checked out of the Anne Arundel on Saturday consisted, in part, of the four-man team Garin had killed in Broome County, New York.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr.…?”
“Webster. No. You’ve been a great help. Do you mind if I go over to the Severn and check on my friends?”
“Will you be staying?” Julie asked hopefully. “The rental fee for an additional person is only eighty-five dollars per day.”
Garin pulled out his wallet and handed Julie ten twenties. “That should cover two nights. Do you mind if I fill out the rental agreement and get the receipt later?”
“No need to fill out a separate agreement. The one signed by Mr. Jones will suffice. I’ll just put an endorsement on it noting the new number of guests,” Julie said as she pulled out a drawer in a beige filing cabinet behind her. “But you’ll need your own key.”
Garin smiled as he took the key from Julie. A bit of charm to soften the mendacity. He hoped he wouldn’t cause any problems for her by damaging any of her nice cabins. “Maybe I’ll see you again in the next couple of days.”
Julie intended to make sure of it. “Do you need help getting to the Severn?”
“If you just point me in the right direction, I’m sure I can find my way.”
“Turn right as you go out the door. Go an eighth of a mile down the access road until it dead-ends. Then a left down the hill toward the bay. It’s right on the water. Parking in the rear.”
“Thanks,” Garin said as he walked toward the door of the rental office.
“Julie.”
Garin turned. “Pardon?”
“The name’s Julie. Shorter than writing ‘the hot blonde from Terrapin with the great ass’ in your diary.”
Garin smiled and walked out the front door.
The approach to the cabin would be problematic. Garin didn’t know how many Iranians were in the cabin, or their security arrangements. Some of them could be on sentry duty or patrolling the surrounding woods. Although the cabins had a fair amount of distance between them, other residents nearby would easily be able to hear any gunfire coming from the Severn. And given the clothing he was wearing, Garin couldn’t easily conceal a weapon with a suppressor attached.
Terrapin Estates was hilly and densely wooded. Most of the cabins ringed the bay, with approximately a hundred yards between them. A dirt path sloped from the access road to the Severn, a distance of approximately two hundred yards. Approaching the cabin on the dirt path would be suicide. Instead, Garin threaded his way carefully through the trees and brush leading to the rear of the cabin. When he was within thirty yards of the building, he lay on a soft mat of pine needles and surveyed the surroundings.