Bennett got up and made a call from the pay phone. He returned in moments, rotating a forefinger in the air. The start-engines signal. Lawrence got up and followed him out.
Levi Bar-El's presentation at the daily intelligence briefing came toward the end. His main topic was the American naval aviator who had visited Saudi Arabia two months previously, but Bar-El had more current information this morning.
''Two days ago our people followed this man Bennett to a restaurant in San Diego. After about forty minutes he and another man, apparently who met him there, took the new man's sports car to another restaurant about seven kilometers away. Our people waited ten minutes after assuming position, then sent in a female operative to locate the subject. She did not see them."
Bar-El checked his notes. "The sports car remained in the parking lot, apparently to make our team believe the subjects remained in the restaurant. But now we believe that a van was waiting in the alley behind the building. It was seen there upon taking station but was gone a few minutes later. It was dark, and-"
"Yes, yes, we know the routine." It was the section chief, Colonel Chaim Geller. He liked young Bar-El, but noted the lad had a tendency to make excuses for field agents he didn't even know. A natural enough reaction, but one that would have to be trained out of him. ''The question is, where are they?"
Bar-El swallowed. "We do not know for certain, sir. It appears they have left the San Diego area. Maybe they have left the country. We should know shortly."
Geller waved a hand. "Well, they handled themselves pretty well for amateurs. Apparently no outward signs of suspicion. No doubt the Saudis or their hirelings spotted our team. No real harm done. Now, who is the second man? Also an aviator?"
Relieved at the change of subject, Bar-El flipped the page of his folder. "Edward R. Lawrence. An airline pilot who retains a reserve commission as a full commander in the navy, second in command of a fighter squadron. We identified him by his automobile registration. According to our air force intelligence, he flew with Bennett during two tours in Vietnam. Lawrence shot down three enemy aircraft and became a tactics instructor like Bennett. Two of our people knew him during his duty instructing at the Navy Fighter Weapons School at Miramar Naval Air Station, San Diego."
"What do they say of him, Levi?"
Bar-EI was pleased-double-checking with the air force had impressed his chief. "Sir, they say he is a pilot and nothing else. He seems to care only for flying. One of the types you need in a shooting war, but who does not do as well in peacetime." He glanced down again. "An accomplished flier, a good leader, and both our men agreed he was one of their best instructors." Bar-El smiled.
"What is it, Levi? Something else?"
"Well, naturally I didn't tell our pilots the reason behind this investigation. But one of them said that if Edward Lawrence was looking for a job, we should hire him right away."
The chief tapped a pencil on his desk. "Apparently somebody else thought of it first. I only wonder why they disappeared like that. It tells us they're aware of our surveillance." Geller bit on the eraser. "What's your estimate, Levi?"
Bar-EI was not used to being asked what he thought-only what he knew. "Sir, I would have to say that probably… " Think fast, Levi, they're testing you, he thought. "Sir, it's only a guess, but perhaps the Saudis feared we would expose the men to their government." No, no. They've done nothing wrong, and the State Department already knows Bennett visited Arabia, quite legally. "The only other thing is-well, Colonel, are we planning a wet operation against them?"
The section chief returned Bar-El's wide-eyed expression with emotionless brown eyes. "No, of course not. We have two Mexican nationals who can do such work for us in that area, but there is no need. At least not now."
Bar-El realized the recent Israeli intelligence operations in the United States would make such a move politically impossible. And besides, far better to run an assassination operation outside the United States, if it came to that.
"But," Geller continued, pointing his pencil at the lieutenant, "I think you are getting warm. The Saudis may fear we would eliminate Bennett and Edwards. Therefore, they became overly anxious and moved the men too quickly." He nibbled the eraser again. "Whatever they're up to, we'll know of it soon enough. Keep me informed, Levi. Thank you."
The morning after eluding the Israeli team in San Diego, the two aviators entered an apartment on Beverly Glen Boulevard. Damned amazing, thought Bennett. He'd never been in Beverly Hills before. "The Saudis thought of everything," he said as he and Lawrence inspected the furnished apartment.
Lawrence opened a cardboard box on the dining room table and emitted a low whistle. "I'll say they thought of everything. Check this out." He held up fifty crisp new hundred-dollar bills. "Let's go to Vegas and let this ride one time. Get in practice for Tailhook. "
The annual Tailhook reunion at the Las Vegas Hilton was a landmark event in naval aviation. Only now living down its riotous early reputation, the symposium had become more professional. But still it was great fun.
Bennett.laughed. "Hey, do you remember Tailhook '74 when Hoser McAllister disappeared Friday night? They didn't miss him till Saturday afternoon. Found him laid out in a closet, dead to the world with one bare foot and a toe tag. Even had his arms folded across his chest-with that lily in his hands."
The men found clothes in the bedroom, each bathroom stocked with toilet articles, and the refrigerator crammed with enough food for two weeks. There was even a rowing machine in one bedroom. Lawrence noticed the coffeemaker and began brewing a pot. "You notice, the Moslems didn't leave you any booze. By the way, when we get wherever the hell we're going, will the guys be able to drink or will they have to go cold turkey for a couple years?"
"We'll be based in Bahrain, which is pretty lax by Muslim standards. Actually, I think there's two reasons for that. One, it keeps us Yankee air pirates out of Arabia most of the time, and two, we'll be positioned to intercept hostiles from Iran if need be. But in Arabia the guys better get used to the 40-weight oil that passes for coffee. "
The redhead flashed a white grin. "I always knew clean living would be its own reward. I'll be the only instructor who's not having DTs after a couple months."
Bennett said, "Like I always told you, I never trust a fighter pilot who doesn't drink. Actually, we'll have our own compound. I checked with Fatah, and Bahrain is a lot looser situation than Arabia. Our guys can hoot with the owls, and there's European women employed in Bahrain as nurses, dental technicians and the like." Bennett held up a warning finger. "But in Arabia, where we'll be spending a lot of time, it's the straight and narrow for all hands."
"You think that'll scare off many guys?"
"Some, I suppose. We'll just lay down the law. The rule is, anybody who takes one drink too many in Bahrain or who gets out of line in any way in Arabia gets a one-time warning. Especially if any of our students are around. A second time gets the offender a one-way ticket home."
"Fine by me. One thing I don't understand, though. I don't have my passport. How do I get out of Uncle Sugar and into the land of oil wells and camels?"
"Fatah said on the phone that this unexpected change of plans would require some innovation. I don't have mine, either. He's supposed to call in a couple days to fill us in. Meanwhile, we sit tight. We can use the time to lay some groundwork."