"Then the housekeeper takes the calls?"

"The Deuxieme figured that out," Stevens cut in. "Her names Pauline, and shes under tight surveillance, electronic and physical. The moment anything breaks, theyll reach us."

"Thats the best we can ask for."

"May I ask how you knew about the Couviers?"

"Sorry, Henry, maybe later, much later.... Anything else?"

"Definitely. We have proof of sorts that Ingersol was up to his a.s.s in the Bajaratt circle." The navy captain described the concealed telephone in the dead attorneys office as well as the rooftop satellite relay. "It was obviously networked with the yacht in Miami Beach and that crazy old mans island."

"Crazys the operative word, Henry. I can understand Van Nostrand, but why men like ORyan and Ingersol? Why would they be a part of it? It doesnt make sense."

"Sure it does," replied the chief of naval intelligence. "Look at that pilot of yours from Puerto Rico, Albert Simon. He thought they had something on him that called for forty years in Leavenworth. Same kind of thing with ORyan and Ingersol, maybe. Incidentally, the Agencys sending over whatever information it has on both of them."

"Where is Simon, by the way? Whats happened to him?"

"Hes got his tail in a tub of warm mola.s.ses, living it up in a suite at the Watergate, courtesy of an adoring Pentagon. A private ceremony was held-in the Oval Office, no less-where he was presented with a couple of medals and a sizable back paycheck."

"I thought the President was keeping a low profile these days-"

"You werent listening. It was a very private ceremony, no photo ops, no press, over in five minutes."

"How the h.e.l.l did Simon explain away his-to say the least, his prolonged absence? Christ, all those years!"

"Very smart, Im told. Just obscure enough for people who dont really want explanations. His long-ago discharge was mailed to him in the Australian outback and subsequently lost. Hes been moving around for years, a real expatriate, from one flying job to another, one country to another. n.o.body cared to learn anymore."

"Thats the washed-out Simon," said Hawthorne. "Not an influential lawyer on the White Houses A list, or a highly respected a.n.a.lyst at the Central Intelligence Agency. Ingersol and ORyan werent cut from the same cloth as Al Simon."

"I didnt say they were, just a variation in a better quality of fabric." There was the sound of chimes over the naval officers phone. "Hold on, Tye, theres someone at the front door and Phylls taking a shower."

Silence.

Captain Henry Stevens did not return to the telephone.

26.

"Were leaving now!" said Bajaratt loudly, opening the door of the bedroom, awakening Nicolo from a deep sleep. "Get up and pack us, quickly!"

The young man raised himself from the pillows and rubbed his eyes in the bright afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. "I faced my G.o.d last night and I am fortunate to be alive. Let me sleep."

"Get up, and please do as I say. Ive ordered a limousine; it will be here in ten minutes."

"Why? Im so tired and I ache so."

"To be frank, our chauffeur may have a bigger mouth than a thousand dollars will keep shut, although Ive promised him more."

"Where are we going?"

"Ive made arrangements; dont concern yourself. Hurry! Ive another phone call to make." The Baj rushed back into the suites sitting room and dialed the number she had so well committed to memory.

"Identify yourself," said the strange voice on the line, "and state your business."

"You are not the man I spoke to before," replied Bajaratt.

"Changes have been made-"

"There have been entirely too many changes," said the Baj quietly, ominously.

"They were made for the better," interrupted the man on the Scorpio phone, "and if youre who I think you are, youre better off for them."

"How can I be sure-how can I be sure of anything? This chaos would not be permitted in Europe, and in the Baaka youd all be executed."

"Scorpios Two and Three arent around any longer, are they? Werent they executed, Little Girl Blood?"

"Dont play your childish games with me, signore," said Bajaratt, her voice now ice cold.

"Nor you with me, lady.... You want proof, okay, Ill buy that. Im in the circle here and know every move thats being made to find you. Among the men involved is a Captain H. R. Stevens, chief of naval intelligence. Hes been working with a retired N.I. lieutenant commander named Hawthorne-"

"Hawthorne? You know this-"

"Thats right, and theyve traced you to a place called Chesapeake Beach. Each of us in the circle has been alerted over our secure faxes. However, Captain Stevens wont be doing any more tracing. Hes dead, and sooner or later theyll find his body in a thick row of hedges behind his garage. If they do, youll read about it in the afternoon papers. It may even be on the evening news, if they havent blacked it out."

"Im satisfied, signore," said Bajaratt softly, quickly.

"So fast?" asked the elite Scorpion. "From what Ive read and heard, that doesnt sound like you."

"I have my proof."

"My word?"

"No, a name."

"Stevens?"

"No."

"Hawthorne?"

"That will be enough, Scorpione Uno. I need equipment. The time will come any day now."

"If its smaller than a tank, youve got it."

"Its not large but quite sophisticated. I can have one flown overnight from the Baaka via London or Paris, but I dont trust our technicians. In two out of five occasions the equipment malfunctioned. I cant afford the risk."

"Neither can the men who think like I do, and were all over this city. Remember Dallas thirty years ago-we do. How do you want to proceed?"

"I have with me a detailed blueprint-"

"Get it to me," interrupted the Scorpio.

"How?"

"I suppose you wont tell me where you are."

"Of course not," the Baj broke in. "I will leave a copy for you at the concierges desk in the hotel of my choice. I will call you within minutes of depositing it."

"What name?"

"Choose it."

"Racklin."

"You chose so quickly."

"He was a lieutenant, a prisoner of war who bought it in Vietnam. He thought the way I do; he hated our running out of Saigon, hated the G.o.dd.a.m.ned pansies in Washington who wouldnt give us the firepower."

"Very well, Racklin it shall be. Where do I call you, this number?"

"Ill be here for a couple of hours, thats all. After that I have to return to the office for a meeting.... The conference is about you, Little Girl Blood."

"Such a charming sobriquet, so diminutive yet so lethal," the Baj said. "I will call you ... say within the next thirty minutes." Bajaratt hung up the telephone. "Nicolo!" she shouted.

"Henry!" Tyrell yelled into the phone. "Where the h.e.l.l are you?"

"Is anything wrong?" asked Poole.

"I dont know," Hawthorne answered, squinting and shaking his head. "Henry was always easily distracted if something new came up, intruding on his personal tunnel vision. Maybe he got a security report from the inner circle; hed read it first, forgetting he was on the phone. Ill call him later; he didnt have anything new anyway." Hawthorne replaced the telephone and looked up at the air force lieutenant. "Come on, strap this meat up and haul your tail over to the State Department. I want to get started. I cant wait to meet the mourning ORyans and the Ingersols."

"Youre not going anywhere until youve got your papers and your clothes. May I respectfully suggest that until then you lie down and rest, sir? Ive taken medical courses in combat triage and wound-stress relationships, and I truly believe that the commander-"

"Shut up, Jackson, and tape the d.a.m.n thing!"

Having called the Scorpion with the name of the hotel, Bajaratt left the envelope containing the deadly blueprints with the Carillons concierge; it was clearly marked: Racklin, Esq. To be picked up by courier, seals intact.

"Sono desolato!" whispered Nicolo as their luggage was being put in the limousine. "My head is not yet on straight. I promised Angel I would call her from our new hotel and I am late!"

"I have no patience for such nonsense," said Bajaratt, walking toward the huge white vehicle.

"But you must!" cried the dock boy, grabbing her by the shoulders and stopping her. "There must be respect for me in this matter, respect for her!"

"How dare you talk to me this way?"

"Listen to me, signora, I have lived through terrible things with you and killed a man who would kill me-but you brought me into this mad world of yours and to this young woman I have great affection for. You will not stand in my way. I know I am young, and I have had many women for all the reasons you say about me, but this girl is different."

"You sound better in Italian than you do in English.... Certainly, call your friend from the limousine, if you must."

Inside the car, the elderly black driver started the engine and turned in the front seat as Nicolo grabbed the telephone off its receptacle. "The dispatcher said youd have an address for me, maam."

"A moment, please." Bajaratt touched Nicos cheek. "Keep your voice down," said the Baj in Italian. "I must be clear with our chauffeur."

"Then Ill wait until youre finished, for I might yell with happiness."

"If youd wait a bit longer, say a half hour or so, you may shout for joy as loud as you wish."

"Oh?"

"Before we go to our next lodgings, we must make a stop-I must make a stop. Theres no reason for you to accompany me, so youll be alone in the car for at least twenty minutes."

"I shall wait, then. Do you think the driver would be offended if I asked him to raise the part.i.tion between us?"

"Why should he?" Bajaratt stopped, her eyes squinting, cold. "Im sure he does not speak Italian. You do speak only Italian with your actress, do you not?"

"Please, signora, she saw through me before she left for California. She knows I understand English. She told me she saw it in my eyes when we were with other people-how I laughed with my eyes when something funny was said."

"You admitted you spoke English?"

"We speak it all the time on the telephone, where is the harm?"

"Everyone thinks you do not speak English!"

"Youre wrong, Cabi. That journalist in Palm Beach knew otherwise."

"He doesnt matter, hes-"

"Hes what?"

"Never mind."

"The address, maam?" interrupted the chauffeur, hearing the break in the Italian conversation.

"Yes, here it is." The Baj opened her purse and pulled out a sc.r.a.p of wrinkled brown paper on which were written Arabic characters, in themselves coded words and digits. Decoding them from memory, she read aloud a number and a street in Silver Spring, Maryland. "Do you know where it is?" she asked.

"Ill find it, maam," replied the driver. "It wont be a problem."

"Raise the part.i.tion, please."

"A pleasure, maam."

"Does this 'Angel of yours speak to others about you?" asked Bajaratt angrily, unpleasantly, her head snapping around to Nico.