Occasionally, Busiri butted heads with embassies, for while part of Central Security’s mandate was to protect foreign missions, Busiri’s office often used that access to turn embassy staff into sources. He’d apparently done that with Zora Balašević. He was very good at the game, but he was also an old hand—someone who, like Dragan, Stan could probably talk to.
As if reading his mind, Dragan said, “I’m not sure he’ll be very forthcoming. I tried to have Zora kicked out of Egypt, and he bought me lunch in order to threaten me.”
“Did he?”
“Ali Busiri is a man who knows the value of brute force. Still, he’s one of the old ones, and I can’t help but respect his muscle.”
“Thank you, Dragan.”
The Serb raised his glass. “You enjoy your evening, my friend.”
Stan pulled the latch and opened the door, then climbed out. Dragan’s two assistants, waiting on the curb, climbed into the front seats. The Audi drove off as, from over the rooftops, Stan heard a crackly speaker call the faithful of Cairo to Maghrib prayers.
That haunting sound came back to him later, in his dreams, lingering when, at three thirty, Sophie woke him to say that she would be arriving the next evening on EgyptAir 552, landing at seven. “Can you keep it quiet?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want anyone to try to stop me.”
Amen, he thought as a thrill rippled through his body. It felt a lot like hunger.
4
In the office, he barely held on, waiting for seven o’clock. Questions plagued him. Was Sophie running from the mess her life had become, or was she running toward him? He wasn’t sure how he felt about either of these possibilities. Should he tell Harry about her imminent arrival? She wanted to come in quietly, and the fact was that Stan wanted this, too. Harry would eventually learn she was in town, but first he wanted her all to himself. And finally, who told Emmett about the two of them? As he watched faces pass by the window of his office, their features tightened by the tension in the building, he speculated one by one on who might want to stab him in the back.
Enough.
He straightened himself and logged into one of five anonymous e-mail accounts he used for signaling contacts, then cut-and-pasted a short note in Arabic to Ali Busiri. It was a bit of spam, boasting investment opportunities in Southeast Asia, but the content wasn’t important. All Busiri needed to see was the from-address, and he would know that Stan Bertolli from the U.S. embassy wanted to have a chat with him as soon as possible. If RAINMAN, their source in his office, wasn’t returning their calls, then he would go straight to the boss.
He looked up to see the whole floor walking past his door, in the direction of Harry’s office. Jennifer Cary waved for him to follow.
Cramped tight in that room, they listened to the dismal news of potential leads that had led nowhere. Terry Alderman’s people had uncovered odd wires to Emmett’s Bank of America account, but those turned out to be for speaking engagements he’d done the previous year. Dennis Schwarzkopf’s agents were at first excited by the news that one of Emmett’s Egyptian associates, a real estate developer, had begun investing in Budapest a couple of months after Emmett relocated, but more probing revealed that the developer, after a month of fruitless negotiations, had thrown up his hands and abandoned the country entirely. That had been in December, and Emmett had had no connection to the failed dealings. Jennifer Cary’s people, like Stan’s, had nothing to offer the group, and Harry told them to get off their asses and back to work, as if he were speaking to a room full of auto workers. Then he took a breath, sat down, and waved his hands in the air. “Okay, okay. If there’s no connection to us, then there’s no connection. But try, all right? I’m not just asking for personal reasons. If we don’t find a local connection, but next week the
As if reading his mind, Dragan said, “I’m not sure he’ll be very forthcoming. I tried to have Zora kicked out of Egypt, and he bought me lunch in order to threaten me.”
“Did he?”
“Ali Busiri is a man who knows the value of brute force. Still, he’s one of the old ones, and I can’t help but respect his muscle.”
“Thank you, Dragan.”
The Serb raised his glass. “You enjoy your evening, my friend.”
Stan pulled the latch and opened the door, then climbed out. Dragan’s two assistants, waiting on the curb, climbed into the front seats. The Audi drove off as, from over the rooftops, Stan heard a crackly speaker call the faithful of Cairo to Maghrib prayers.
That haunting sound came back to him later, in his dreams, lingering when, at three thirty, Sophie woke him to say that she would be arriving the next evening on EgyptAir 552, landing at seven. “Can you keep it quiet?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want anyone to try to stop me.”
Amen, he thought as a thrill rippled through his body. It felt a lot like hunger.
4
In the office, he barely held on, waiting for seven o’clock. Questions plagued him. Was Sophie running from the mess her life had become, or was she running toward him? He wasn’t sure how he felt about either of these possibilities. Should he tell Harry about her imminent arrival? She wanted to come in quietly, and the fact was that Stan wanted this, too. Harry would eventually learn she was in town, but first he wanted her all to himself. And finally, who told Emmett about the two of them? As he watched faces pass by the window of his office, their features tightened by the tension in the building, he speculated one by one on who might want to stab him in the back.
Enough.
He straightened himself and logged into one of five anonymous e-mail accounts he used for signaling contacts, then cut-and-pasted a short note in Arabic to Ali Busiri. It was a bit of spam, boasting investment opportunities in Southeast Asia, but the content wasn’t important. All Busiri needed to see was the from-address, and he would know that Stan Bertolli from the U.S. embassy wanted to have a chat with him as soon as possible. If RAINMAN, their source in his office, wasn’t returning their calls, then he would go straight to the boss.
He looked up to see the whole floor walking past his door, in the direction of Harry’s office. Jennifer Cary waved for him to follow.
Cramped tight in that room, they listened to the dismal news of potential leads that had led nowhere. Terry Alderman’s people had uncovered odd wires to Emmett’s Bank of America account, but those turned out to be for speaking engagements he’d done the previous year. Dennis Schwarzkopf’s agents were at first excited by the news that one of Emmett’s Egyptian associates, a real estate developer, had begun investing in Budapest a couple of months after Emmett relocated, but more probing revealed that the developer, after a month of fruitless negotiations, had thrown up his hands and abandoned the country entirely. That had been in December, and Emmett had had no connection to the failed dealings. Jennifer Cary’s people, like Stan’s, had nothing to offer the group, and Harry told them to get off their asses and back to work, as if he were speaking to a room full of auto workers. Then he took a breath, sat down, and waved his hands in the air. “Okay, okay. If there’s no connection to us, then there’s no connection. But try, all right? I’m not just asking for personal reasons. If we don’t find a local connection, but next week the
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