Of course, this did not mean Virginia Maxwell had any desire to reside in a crevice herself. Her hair was perfectly styled, perfectly blond. Not a wrinkle showed anywhere on her face, including the soft skin around her eyes. Her teeth were actress bright, the same shade, it seemed, as the pearl necklace around her neck. She wore a mink coat and the biggest diamond McCracken had ever seen. One wrist showed a sapphire bracelet, the other a diamond-studded Rolex watch.
Wareagle followed McCracken inside and had trouble positioning his head comfortably under the big car’s roof.
“I only wanted him to wait in the jet for his own comfort,” said Virginia Maxwell.
“Whatever you say, Maxie,” Blaine followed.
“But as long as he’s here…”
“Just why are we here?”
“Patience, my dear. Look at you, Blaine. All that time in gorgeous Brazil and not a bit of tan to show for it.”
“The jungle makes for a great sunscreen.”
“There’s less of it to make for anything now, I’m told,”
“The Indian and I got careless roasting marshmallows.”
“Not the only thing that got roasted I’ve heard.”
“Just what have you heard, Maxie?”
“Let’s take a drive, shall we?”
“Whatever you say.”
The limo left Dulles and headed for Washington. Traffic was just beginning to thicken, and they made decent time.
“Awful the things we get that no one else wants to touch, my dear,” Virginia Maxwell told him.
“I know the feeling.”
“Ben Norseman — I think you know him?”
“Not anymore.”
“Of course. In any case, he sent out a distress signal that reached several of our South American strongholds. Had the big brass scrambling, let me tell you, dear. But that doesn’t mean they knew how to handle it, or that they wanted to. They woke me out of a sound sleep, and I wasn’t too happy about it.”
“The troops in the Blackhawks…”
“Gap men, dear. Finding you was quite a surprise to them. That gorgeous young lieutenant opted to ferry you out in one of his birds, while the other went to survey Norseman’s last known position. Actually it’s quite a coincidence, because I’ve been trying to track you down for days.” Virginia Maxwell reached into her Gucci briefcase and came out with a handful of file folders. “Do you play Trivial Pursuit, Blaine, my dear?”
McCracken shook his head. “I wasn’t around for too much of the trivia.”
“Then let’s play our own version, shall we? I’ll hand you a file, and you tell me what you know about the subject, starting with this one….”
McCracken accepted the first folder and opened it. A thick Oriental face looked back at him. The photo was grainy, obviously pulled from another source and enhanced by computer.
“Hired killer named Khan,” Blaine said, without checking the nameplate. “A Mongolian. Especially brutal. Big man. Bigger than me. Not as big as Johnny.”
“One for one, my dear. Now number two.” Virginia Maxwell handed him the second folder.
“Israeli named Moshe Berg. Killed lots of Arabs illegally and then disappeared before he could be brought to trial. Has been a free-lancer ever since and does quite well.”
“Two for two,” the head of the Gap said, and handed him a third folder.
McCracken opened it. “Here’s a good one. Female killer known only as Mira. Lots of aliases. Specialist in political assassinations. Equally legendary in bed.”
“Let’s move on to number four, Blaine.”
“This is Nelson Fox, the size of a whole offensive line. Big-time mercenary and now an equally big-time assassin. Maxie, what the hell is going on here?”
“Still two to go, my dear, and you’re batting a thousand.”
Blaine accepted number five. “Shahim Tafir. Learned his trade under Abu Nidal and graduated to the international contract arena. Money is most dear to him. He’s even worked for Israel on a few occasions. Maxie—”
“Just one more, dear.”
“Jonathan Weetz. Got his start in the mob before he had hair on his balls. Killed his first man at the age of fourteen. This guy’s an anachronism, built for the days when the five families would hit the mattresses and war it out with one another. He likes to kill, and if the price is right, he’ll kill anyone.”
Virginia Maxwell slapped her well-creamed hands together. “You made a perfect score.”
“What gives, Maxie?”
“What would you say if I told you all six were in this country at the same time?”
“I’d say maybe Disneyland appeals to them as a vacation spot.”
“And if it didn’t?”
“I’d say, given their backgrounds, that it was impossible.”
“Almost. Odds of roughly a million and a half to one against it happening. Except it did. Each of these killers has been positively identified sometime in the past ten days.”
“On business, you think?”
“That’s what I need you to find out. Just how good are they, my dear?”
“Six of the ten best in the world maybe, and you’re looking at two of the others right here.”
“My, my, my…Eight of the top ten in my jurisdiction as we speak. Two working for me…and the other six for someone else.”
“That’s jumping to conclusions, Maxie.”
“Not really. They couldn’t all be in America if the circumstances were any different. The odds, remember?”
“I meant about Johnny and me working for you.”
“You’re the only ones capable of finding out what they’re doing here. You’re the only ones who can stop them.”
“Running short of field men at the Gap?”
“None of them are fortunate enough to be in the top ten, Blaine, dear,”
“Love to help, Maxie, but the Indian and I’ve got some other concerns on our mind.”
“Brazil?”
“Not anymore.”
“Pray tell. I’m dying to hear.”
“Lots of people are going to be dying, Maxie. Lots more than already have….”
McCracken proceeded to outline everything that had happened. He started with receiving Carlos Salomao’s phone call, springing Wareagle from jail, and then their trek into the Amazon. He became more specific when it came to the ravaged complex and their cat-and-mouse game with the Wakinyan.
“They escaped the jungle because they had somewhere else to go,” Blaine said at last.
“Interesting conclusion, dear.”
“And obvious.”
“Thirteen of them, you say?”
“That’s how many cubicles there were.”
“Twelve along the corridor and one behind a door at the end of it.”
“You’re a good listener, Maxie.”
“Apparently not good enough. I lost you somewhere around the time you claimed these — what did you call them?”
“Wakinyan.” Blaine nodded toward Johnny. “Indian word that means Thunder Beings.”
“So you claim these Thunder Beings lived at a secret American research station they later destroyed.”
“And it’s part of something called the Omicron Project.”
Virginia Maxwell seemed to lose the slightest bit of her legendary composure. “As in the Greek letter?”
“For sure. Believe me, I’ve had experience with Greek letters before.” And he produced the leathery report cover recovered from the complex’s shredder.