Cat leaned forward and looked at the three men. “Listen to me,” he said. “I want to do it. I want to go to this ‘conference.’”
Everybody was silent for a moment, then Bergman spoke up. “Mr. Catledge,” he said, “I know how concerned you are about your daughter, and I agree that she might, indeed, be at the factory with this guy Prince, but you must understand that you are not the person to go in there and try to get her out. You are completely unqualified for such an operation.”
“Am I?” Cat asked. “I think I’m as qualified as the guy you want to send in there. I have a military background — I was an officer in the United States Marines.”
“It’s not as simple as that, Mr. Catledge; there’s the matter of cover. We couldn’t get that together in time.”
“I already have a very good cover, thank you, prepared by Hedger’s people — passport, credit cards, a business identity, and backup. And I am, as you put it, a fresh face. Has Gomez’s man had any special training for the job?”
“Well, no, except for a small-arms refresher.”
“I’m pretty handy with small arms,” Cat said. “Ask Hedger.”
Hedger rolled his eyes. “That’s true. I made Marksman, in the Corps, but he fired Expert.” He smiled a little smile. “Of course he told to carry a small arm through an airport metal detector, too.”
“So, I made a mistake,” Cat said. “I have a history of learning from my mistakes.”
“Mr. Catledge—”
Cat would not be interrupted. “In addition, I am one hell of a lot more motivated than your DEA man — my daughter is being used by these people for a purpose I’d rather not, but can’t help, think about.”
“That’s the problem,” Hedger said. “You’re liable to be more interested in her than calling in the troops.”
“For Christ’s sake!” Cat said, exasperated, “we’ll be in the middle of a goddamned jungle! I’ll need the troops!”
“Mr. Catledge,” Bergman broke in, “this is an impossible notion. We—”
“And finally,” Cat continued, “I have one qualification that neither your man nor any of you has.”
Bergman looked at Cat, betraying amusement, but his interest was piqued. “And what would that be, Mr. Catledge?” he asked.
Cat permitted himself a small smile. “I have a million dollars in cash,” he said.
Hedger leaned forward. “In cash, you say?”
“In hundred-dollar bills.”
Bergman tried to interrupt, but Hedger waved him down.
“How long would it take for you to lay your hands on it?”
“Half an hour.”
Hedger looked at Bergman. “We need a million bucks, he’s got a million bucks.”
Bergman nodded. “Listen, Mr. Catledge, you loan us that money, and I promise you, our man will do everything in his power to get your daughter out.”
“Not a chance,” Cat said. “Your guy isn’t going to want a strange woman on his hands. He’s going to want to get his ass out of there alive when the balloon goes up, and I won’t give you a goddamned nickel to put him in there.”
“Mr. Catledge, be reasonable,” Bergman said plaintively. “I am a federal official. I do not have the authority to send a private citizen into a dangerous situation on a government mission.”
“What government mission?” Cat demanded. “It’s the fucking Colombians who are going in there, and do you think they give a shit who tells them where it is? You don’t have to send me, just tell me how to get there, and I’ll go of my own volition. I’ll sign a release, if it’ll make you feel better — take full responsibility for myself and my daughter.”
Cat stood up. “I’ll tell you something else. If you people have anything to do with sending the Colombian military into that place before I have an opportunity to get my daughter out, and she is harmed as a result, I’ll hold each of the agencies you represent and each of you personally responsible. You’ve already seen the press on what happened to me and my family — just imagine the coverage I’m going to generate if you get Jinx killed.”
The three men sat, speechless, staring at him. The other men on the telephones had stopped talking and were listening now.
“This is your situation, gentlemen,” Cat said finally. “Without my money, you’ve got no operation — or, if you do find a way to get it together, you’ve got me, in Lyndon Johnson’s memorable phrase, outside the tent, pissing in. On the other hand, use my money, let me go instead of your man, and you’ve got what you want — a crack at a gigantic narcotics operation and a chance to be heroes. You’ll all be having lunch at the White House with Nancy Reagan.” Cat sat down again. “And if it goes wrong, I won’t be around to tell the tale.”
Bergman, Hedger, and Gomez stared at him, still saying nothing. Finally, Bergman turned to Hedger. “You’ve known this guy longer than I have. Does he have what it takes to pull this thing off?”
Cat looked at Hedger, whose eyes had never left him. He waited nervously for an answer. Now it all turned on the word of the man Cat reckoned hated him more than anybody else in the world.
“I don’t know,” Hedger said, finally, “but I’ll tell you this much — he’s the most ruthless sonofabitch I ever knew.”
24
Waiting again. Cat stood at the window of his room and watched clouds float past the green mountains that hung over the city. He had been back at the hotel for an hour. The phone rang.
“Hello?”
“This is Buzz Bergman. You’re on. We’ll get together tomorrow to talk more, but tonight you have to be vetted by these people. Here’s Johnny Gomez to explain.”
Cat waited silently. It surprised him that the hand holding the telephone was trembling slightly.
“It’s Johnny Gomez, Cat. Now listen carefully. There’s a nightclub on the top floor of the Tequendama — that’s where you’re staying, right?”
“Right.”
“There’s a Cuban review playing up there — the famous one from the Tropicana Hotel in Havana; it comes to Bogotá every year. Call the club for a reservation. Say your name is Ellis, you’re a friend of Mr. Vargas, you want a table for one. Got that?”
“Yes. I’m Ellis, friend of Vargas.”
“Right. You’re to take a hundred thousand dollars in hundreds, okay?”
“Yes. What happens after I get there?”
“Relax and enjoy the show; I hear it’s terrific. Somebody will introduce himself as Vargas and ask for the money. He’ll give you instructions on what to do next. He may ask you some questions. The guy who has introduced you to these people is a lawyer in Miami named Walter L. Jasper, called Walt. He does some work for your company in Florida, you got to know him over the last six months or so, and he invited you into this deal. Jasper is five-ten, weighs a hundred and fifty pounds, blond hair going gray, has a one-inch, crescent-shaped scar at the outer corner of his left eye, prominent. He has described you to them, said he knows you well enough. That’s all he’s told them, so if they ask a lot of questions, fake it. We’ll get your answers back to Jasper, so you won’t be crossed up, okay?”
“Okay. What else do I need to know?”
“Well, just to make you feel a little better, my guy from the States, the guy you’re replacing, will be there somewhere. He’s six feet, a hundred and eighty pounds, sandy hair cut short, badly pockmarked skin. He’ll keep an eye on you, but don’t speak to him or pay him any attention; it’s important that you not seem connected with anybody, understand? You’re down here on your own.”