Sternlich gave him a curious look. “So our get-together is more than just a social catching-up session.”
Sandor scanned the room quickly for what must have been the fourth time. “You’ve heard about the Jaber incident in Tehran?”
“We heard Ahmad Jaber was blown to pieces in his home,” Bill replied in that straightforward manner Sandor so admired. Not only was his friend informed, but he never played games when it came to these discussions. Sandor wished he could be as candid, but Jaber’s survival and defection were still classified. “No group has taken responsibility, at least not yet.”
“Right,” was all Sandor could say for now.
“From what I understand, we’re well rid of him.”
Sandor nodded. “Bad guy.”
“Word in the media says a heightened security alert is coming down the pike. Any connection to the late Mr. Jaber?”
Sandor nodded. “It turns out he may have had information that led to his early exit. I’m assigned to find out.”
“You’re going back to the Middle East?” Sternlich knew the last time Sandor was there he was involved in the aborted mission in Manama, Bahrain. He also knew it was less than a happy memory.
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
“No. I’m heading a little farther east than that.”
“That so?”
The waiter came by and each man ordered a quartino of red wine, Sternlich a Sangiovese, Sandor a Montepulciano. As the server walked away, Sternlich asked, “That all you’re able to say?”
Sandor hesitated. “No. Actually, this time I’ve got to tell you some things. I’m going to a place where getting in is going to be a helluva lot easier than getting out, especially after I take care of what I have to do there.”
“Meaning what?”
Sandor stared across the table at his friend. “Meaning, I may not make it back.”
Bill shook his head. “Jordan…”
“Hold on please.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m only telling you this because if something happens, something unexpected, I may need someone to contact, someone outside the normal channels. I have a feeling about this for reasons I can’t explain, and I want you to know that I may need to get you information I wouldn’t trust with anyone else. I need you to have a way to verify that the information is coming from me.” He reached into his sport coat pocket, removed a small piece of paper, and slid it across the table. Then he leaned even closer and whispered in a voice so low he was practically mouthing the words. “Take a look at this and don’t say anything.”
As Sandor removed his hand, Sternlich looked down at the paper, a code in numbers and letters. “These are…”
Sandor held up his hand, then smiled. In another barely audible whisper, he said, “Damnit, Billy, didn’t I just tell you not to say anything?”
“Right.”
Sandor then turned the paper over, revealing the words that read, “Memorize right now, then destroy.”
“Those are the numbers, so you’ll know the communication is coming from me. Just in case,” Sandor said. “Just in case.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Early the following morning, the yacht carrying Adina and his retinue arrived in Gustavia. The premier berths along the main dock were situated between the old St. Barths and the new, just down the street from Le Select — the Rastafarian hamburger joint that remains one of the few affordable places to eat on the island — and only a short stroll from a dazzling assortment of glamorous boutiques. Hermès. Cartier. Cavalli. Bulgari. Chanel. Dior. Vuitton.
Cardona had driven into town early, grabbed a café au lait from the patisserie on the Rue du Roi Oscar II, then waited on the quay. Hicham had been instructed to remain at the villa, a one-man welcoming party constituting quite enough attention at this hour.
Cardona watched patiently as the crew of the Misty II went through the slow and careful process of docking the large yacht, then he boarded and was escorted into the main stateroom, where he was soon joined by Adina.
Cardona was clothed in wrinkled linen slacks, a button-front short-sleeved shirt, and sandals. Adina was dressed in well-tailored beige slacks, a pressed white linen shirt, and tan loafers of soft woven leather. He was holding a wide-brimmed Panama hat.
“You had a good trip?” Cardona asked.
Adina shrugged. “We shall see. I believe our Asian comrades are finally in lockstep with us. All that remains is to execute our plans with the required precision. That, my friend, will make it a good trip.”
Cardona responded with a nod, saying nothing. Adina reflected on how he had taken a particular liking to this man — affection would be too strong a word — appreciating his no-nonsense style and the unquestioning way in which he followed orders.
“We need to begin our work here.”
“As you say.”
“We’ve revised our thinking,” Adina told him. “We think it will be best to have the Americans begin their chase sooner rather than later. The weather forecasts seem to favor an earlier timeline.”
“Good.”
Adina smiled. “It is therefore time for us to send Hicham on his mission.”
Cardona drove Adina and his lieutenant Renaldo along the mountainous road that led back to the compound on the cliff. When they reached the house, they strode quickly from the parking area inside the main building.
Hicham was in his bathing trunks, soaking up the early morning sun on a chaise beside the pool. When he saw the three Venezuelans enter he jumped to attention. Cardona made the introductions.
Adina gave a nod of the head without shaking hands. Then he turned and stepped to the railing to have a look out at the sea. “Beautiful view,” he said simply.
When Hicham assured him that he would enjoy the villa, Adina explained that he and his aide would remain with the others on the yacht. Then he asked to see the layout anyway. Hicham grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it on, then led them from room to room. As they finished their walk along the concrete path overhanging the cliff, Adina said, “So, we are completely undisturbed here.”
“Yes, except the housekeeper living in the maisonette at the foot of the driveway there. She comes in once a day for about an hour.” Hicham had a quick look at his watch. “Just about twenty minutes from now. Quite attractive,” he added.
Adina glanced at Cardona. “I do not want to meet her.” Turning back to Hicham, he said, “Go and tell her she is not needed today.”
When Hicham was gone, Cardona led the other two men back into the master bedroom suite. He took his suitcase from the closet and displayed the explosives he had successfully smuggled into the country.
Adina nodded approvingly. “Time to get started, my friend.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Our sun-loving North African friend will begin the operation for us.”
Cardona nodded.
Adina placed a hand on Cardona’s powerful shoulder. “I have already arranged his passage, from here to St. Maarten, then connecting on the afternoon flight to New York.” Speaking to Renaldo, he said, “While we have lunch on the yacht you can arrange for his boarding pass.”
Renaldo said that he understood, but Cardona seemed to be mulling it over.
“Is something wrong, my friend?”
“No, I’m sorry, no, I was just thinking, that was all.”
The older man smiled indulgently. “Thought is the assassin of action. Do you know who said that?”
Cardona gave a confused look, then shook his head.
“I did,” Adina announced, followed by a hearty laugh that he prolonged until the two younger men joined in. When he resumed his serious demeanor, he said, “Tell me your concern.”