CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Wednesday 1:09 A.M.

"Darling, do you think they'll figure out it was a ruse?"

"Who knows." He looked up from stoking the fireplace, where nothing but embers remained. "Tanzan Mino may be a genius, but the rest of his Yakuza hoods are not exactly rocket scientists. Ditto T-Directorate's flunkies. With any luck both sides will think the other one's kidnapped us and they'll go after each other. That's the idea at least."

"Well, we're pretty vulnerable." She kicked off her shoes and leaned back on the couch.

"Look, after tomorrow Tanzan Mino won't dare send his goons after us .

. . unless he's got something up his sleeve we don't know about."

"That's just it,"she sighed. "If he manages to find us . . . why mince words, if he decides to try and kill us again, what then? Will this Japanese banker friend of yours stick with us? Whose side is he on, I mean really?"

"Well, we're here, aren't we? Nobody knows about this place, not even Alex."

They had ditched Novosty three blocks down the Strand. Trust had its limits.

"Except, of course, your Japanese banker friend. He knows."

"The only player we can rely on now is Ken. And he's the only one-- particularly after Novosty gets his money--who's got the slightest incentive to hang tough."

"I'm wondering what's the best way to break the story. We've got to make sure it doesn't get away from us, get lost."

He looked up from the fireplace. "I've already told you what I think. I say we just go see an editor friend of mine at the Financial Times, give him a big scoop concerning a forthcoming Mino Industries Eurobond offering. We point out there's no collateral at all behind the debentures, and we'll also hint there's more to it, but that angle we save for The Times of London, which will get a nicely translated copy of the protocol. We hit the godfather with a one-two press expose, then make ourselves scarce and let investigative journalism do its thing.

Believe me, nobody's going to ignore what could be the biggest story of the decade. After that starts snowballing, Tanzan Mino'll have too much on his plate to bother eating us. We'll be out of it."

"Michael," she sighed, "you're a dreamer. You don't really think it's going to be that easy."

He rose and joined her on the couch, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Maybe not, but we won't be a sitting target. We'll keep on the move. Why don't you come and join me on the boat. I may have to postpone visiting with the Stuttgart team down at Phaistos, but we'll find something. It'll be simple."

"Sounds really simple."

"All great ideas are basically that way."

"Well, if life's as simple as you make out, then why did you insist on Alex's friends at the Soviet embassy lending you that thing?" She pointed to the black leather satchel stationed next to the fireplace.

"Guess I'm nervous." He grinned weakly.

"You mean you're scared. Cut the bull. I'm scared too." She got up, walked over and picked up the leather bag. "Now, I want you to show me how to work this."

"What?" He didn't like the idea. "You sure?"

"Absolutely. We're in this together." She settled the bag down on the carpet, unzipped the top, and drew out an object whose black matte- satin finish glistened in the soft glow of the coals. "This is an Uzi, right?"

"The tried and true. Major Uziel Gal's contribution to the mayhem of the world." He reached over and took it. "You know, this is an instrument of sudden death. Do you really want your finger on the trigger?"

"Sweetheart, just tell me what I need to know." She met his gaze.

"Okay, here goes." He still hated the thought, for a lot of reasons.

The mere sight of an Uzi reminded him of things in the past he preferred to forget. But there clearly was no stopping her. "A quick run-through of the care and feeding of your classic assault machine."

"Good." She reached and took it, tugging at the collapsed metal stock a second before turning back to him. "By the way, is it loaded?"

"No, but it probably should be. You can take care of that yourself in just a second. But first things first." He pointed down. "See this thumb button right here, on the left top of the grip? Notice there're three positions--all the way back is the safety, next is semiautomatic fire, and all the way forward is full-auto. There's also a backup safety here, at the top rear of the pistol grip. The action stays locked unless it's depressed, which happens when you squeeze down to deliver a round."

"Two safeties?"

"Don't knock it. This baby fires ten rounds a second on full-auto.

We've only got five magazines."

"How many rounds in a magazine?"

"I insisted on the enlarged thirty-two-round version instead of the usual twenty-five. But still, with that little button forward on full- auto you can empty a magazine in about three seconds. It's a good way to get the attention of everybody in the room."

"Can you actually hold your aim in full-auto?"

"Well enough. The recoil's surprisingly minimal. Remember to fire in short bursts and you'll do okay." He pointed down. "Now, the cocking handle is this knurled knob here on the top. Notice it's got a slot cut in it so it doesn't block the sights. You yank it back to ready it. And don't forget, always use your left hand to cock the action and change magazines, and your right to operate the safety-selector switch."

"Got it."

"Okay, now you're ready to load." He picked one of the black rectangular metal cases out of the leather satchel on the floor. "This is a charged magazine. Always cock the action and set the thumb switch to safety before you insert one."

She pulled the knob back firmly, then pushed her thumb against the switch.

"Now feed the magazine into the bottom of the pistol grip"

She shoved it in with a click and it was secured.

"You're ready to party. Thumb off the safety and it's a go project."

"How do you take the magazine out when it's empty?" She aimed into the fireplace. For a second he thought she was going to take out a few half-burnt logs.

"There's a release catch on the bottom left side of the pistol grip.

Just depress it."

"And what about the stock? Should I bother?"

He reached and took it back. "You push the butt downward to release it, and then you pull it back like this till it's fully extended and locks." He clicked it into place, a hard sound in the silence of the London night. "To retract it you just depress this locking button here on the left front and fold it back under again."