too, staying for just the night. Got in late on a Lufthansa flight that was supposed to touch down at eleven-forty, but didn’t actually get there until around one-thirty.”
“Anyone with him?”
“No. And I woulda found out sooner, except he’s traveling under a work name—Donald Higgs—on a damned fine Canadian passport. First-class work. I was impressed, and I’m looking down a couple of tracks to see how he managed, ’cause there’s really a Don Higgs in Ottawa, a lawyer, same description, similar UK background.”
“So it’s just Remington and Sandberger and two bodyguards.”
“Right.”
“One hour on the ground then call Whittaker,” McGarvey said, and he broke the connection and laid the phone on the seat next to him.
He wasn’t going to shoot anyone this time, unless he was given no other choice, nor did he want to damage the four men. That would come later. He was counting on the eventual need for it. For now he just wanted to get their attention, and hopefully the attention of the German Federal Police. Make it official so it would be tough for his coming to Germany to be swept under the rug later.
It was a starting point, an important one, because for once in his career he had absolutely no idea where this was headed. But no power on earth could turn him away from taking it to the finish.
They touched down at Frankfurt and taxied over to the terminal routinely used for state visits by members of foreign governments, and McGarvey hesitated at the open hatch. The pilot and copilot were looking at him.
“If you don’t hear from me within two hours, go back to Washington,” he told them.
“We can wait here for as long as you want, Mr. Director,” the pilot said.
“I appreciate that, Captain. But if I’m not back aboard by then, it’ll mean I’m probably in jail.”
“Does this have anything to do with your son-in-law?”
“Everything to do with it.”
“Then good hunting, sir,” Debbie said.
Two stern-faced customs officers in uniform were waiting for him just inside the terminal, that just now was empty, and they scrutinized his diplomatic passport that identified him by his actual name. “Can you tell us the nature of your visit, Mr. McGarvey?” the older of the two asked.
“It’s routine State Department,” McGarvey said. “I’ve come over to have a word with the president of an American contractor firm doing business in Baghdad. Administrative Solutions. Guy’s name is Roland Sandberger.”
Both customs officers stiffened, their change in attitude barely perceptible, but there nonetheless. “Do you expect any difficulty?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Where and when will this meeting take place?”
“At the Steigenberger as soon as I can get a cab over,” McGarvey said.
“The shuttle will take you. Will you be staying the night?”
McGarvey had left his overnight bag aboard the aircraft. “No. Just an hour, perhaps less.”
It was perfectly clear that the customs officers were nervous, especially the older one, who probably had more field experience than his partner, and perhaps because he knew McGarvey by reputation. The one action they could not take, because of his diplomatic immunity, was search him for a weapon.
His passport was returned to him, and the officers stepped aside. “The shuttle is just in front. We hope your visit is as productive as it is dull.”
“Me too,” McGarvey said, and he went outside and got into the Steigenberger van, which headed immediately for the hotel.
On the short ride over from the VIP terminal he’d made a conscious effort to get out of his head the image of Todd’s shot-to-hell body lying on the gurney in All Saints. He wanted to go into this meeting with clear eyes, and steady nerves, or else it would be next to impossible for him not to take someone apart.
The lobby was not particularly large, though well appointed, and not very busy at this hour. The front desk and concierge services were to the left, and pausing for just a moment, he spotted Sandberger and another man he took to be Remington seated across a broad coffee table from each other. Sandberger’s muscle were seated a short distance away, left and right, in positions to cover the front desk and elevators from one direction, and the main doors to the portico from the other.
The one facing the doors said something, and Sandberger looked up, startled for just a moment, but then his expression and manner turned wary, but curious, as McGarvey walked over. Remington looked as if he were a deer caught in headlights, but for just a brief