The other two found him twenty minutes later at the wheel of the red Testarossa that was parked in the forecourt, the salesman next to him, as they enthusiastically discussed the merits and faults of various models, both old and new.
Tucker had hired a brown Ford Granada and he pulled up next to the Testarossa and bipped the horn at Adam. Adam said his goodbyes to the salesman and slid into the back of the Granada.
'Where now?' he asked.
'To get Trimmler,' answered Tucker, 'and take him to his wedding.'
'Sounds good. Anything else happen?'
'No.' Tucker had already decided not to tell Adam too much. After all, he was here as muscle to protect Trimmler. Nothing else concerned him.
They drove to the Mirimar Air Base in silence, the journey taking little more than five minutes. Tucker swung the car into the Base entrance and presented his identity to the armed guard on duty. They were expecting him, and the guard waved Tucker through after lifting the steel barrier and giving him directions to the officers' quarters.
Adam reflected that this was the home of the best American jet fighter pilots in America, the home of the Top Guns. He ruefully wished he had joined the Royal Air Force instead of the Army. At least he wouldn't have been stuck here with these two amateurs.
Trimmler was waiting at the entrance to one of the largest houses on the base. He was dressed in a grey morning suit, a top hat in his left hand. They could tell from his demeanour that he was agitated. He had bounded down the steps from the house and was pulling open Tucker's door before the car had come to a stop.
'You're late!' Trimmler snapped.
'Sorry, sir,' said Tucker, scrambling out of the car. 'We needed a new car. Is your wife coming?'
'Who are these people?' asked Trimmler, ignoring Tucker's question as he pointed at Billie and Adam.
'Your escort.'
'All of you. This is stupid. Three people?'
'Those are my instructions.'
'And you expect me to get in with all of you, with these clothes on?'
'Yes, sir.'
'You want us to arrive looking like gangsters? You think I'm Al Capone, or something? No! I will not go with all of you.'
'My orders are…'
''I don't care about orders. Get me another car. If they want to come, they can follow.'
'That'll make us late for the wedding.'
'Stupid. This is stupid. We must leave them here.'
'I can't do that, sir.'
Trimmler slammed the door shut in frustration, nearly trapping Tucker's hands in the process. The two men stared at each other, a war of nerves and frustration.
'All right!' shouted Trimmler. 'But I sit in the front. The woman…in the back,' he ordered.
'Billie. Please?' said Tucker.
Billie climbed out of the passenger seat and slipped into the back as Trimmler stormed round and angrily sat in the front, slamming the door shut once he was in. Tucker climbed into the driving position and swung the car round and drove back to the entrance.
The trip took an uncomfortable and silent thirty minutes in the busy traffic. The only time anyone spoke was when Trimmler demanded the air conditioning be turned down. Tucker leant across and adjusted the dial accordingly.
'Is that better?' he asked after a few minutes.
Trimmler nodded, his top hat now balanced on his knee.
In the back, Adam and Billie studiously avoided each other, their gazes determined not to meet, their bodies apart and obvious in their language. Billie kept her chin up for the whole journey.
The Torrey Pines Sheraton is one of those low level, sprawling hotels that Californians insist on building so as not to intrude on the environment. It overlooks the Torrey Pines Golf Course, a municipal track that is world class in design and has hosted many great golf classics. The hotel is shaped in a wide W, with the three wings reaching out towards the golf course. Between the outer wings and the centre index of the W there were two outdoor terraced areas which were used for weddings and other similar functions. Although the hotel had only been completed in 1988, it was now seen as one of the fashionable venues for wedding services in the La Jolla area.
The wedding Trimmler was attending was of one of his younger colleague's, a Jewish subordinate who worked on his team.
Tucker pulled the car up outside the canopied lobby entrance. Trimmler was out and on his way into the hotel before the parking attendant had reached them.
'How y'a doing?' He greeted Tucker through the open window. 'Want me to park it?'
'No thanks,' said Tucker. 'I'll do it.'
He swung the car round the centre island and drove to one of the empty spots next to the hotel. When he had parked, the three of them climbed out of the car. They were surrounded by Bentleys, Rolls Royces, Mercedes, BMWs and other expensive, mostly European, cars. Adam realised it was a top society wedding. It would be difficult to keep an eye on Trimmler with all those people milling about.
'Now what?' asked Adam.
'Just stay out of the way and keep an eye on him,' replied the CIA man.
'I need to get in the boot.'
'The what?'
'He means the trunk,' interrupted Billie.
'It's open.'
Adam went to the rear of the car and pushed the button that released the lock and allowed the boot lid to spring open. Tucker and Billie followed him round.
In the bottom there was, wrapped under a blanket, a Heckler and Koch MP5K sub-machine gun and a standard 9mm Browning High Power semi automatic. Adam unravelled the blanket as the other two watched.
'Do we have to take those in?' asked a startled Tucker.
'If we're here to protect the guy, yes.'
'Come on…Not the machine gun as well, are…?'
'Don't be daft,' replied Adam curtly. He slipped off his jacket and looked round the car park to make sure he wasn't being observed. Satisfied that all was well, he then reached down and lifted out a shoulder holster and strapped it on. Once he had checked that it fitted snugly, tight enough to stay firm under his left shoulder yet loose enough not to impair his breathing, he took the 9mm Browning and slipped it into the holster. Then he closed the boot lid and put his jacket back on.
'Okay,' he said. 'You'd better make sure the alarm's on. We don't want that little number going MIA, do we?' he went on, indicating the machine gun.
As Tucker turned to switch on the alarm, Adam walked away from them and into the hotel. Billie and the CIA man followed at a distance.
'Lopian — Robbins Wedding on the Golf View Terrace' said the legend on the signboard in the lobby entrance. Underneath it, in bolder red print on a white background shouted the words 'The Torrey Pines Sheraton welcomes all Phil and Janey's wedding guests.'
'Excuse me,' Adam asked one of the receptionists, a pretty redhead with 'Debbie Hanniff — Receptionist' printed on the badge perched above her left breast. 'Debbie?'
'How can I help you?' she smiled back.
'The Golf View Terrace, please?'
'Down there,' she pointed to the right corridor. 'Just keep following the hallway and you'll come to some big glass doors. Opens right up onto the terrace. You here for the Lopian Robbins wedding?'
'Yes. Thank you, Debbie.'
'Have a good day, sir.'
Adam turned and walked down the marble floored hallway with his two companions following. When he reached the big glass doors he found his way barred by an usher in a grey morning suit.
'Hi,' welcomed the usher.