the world.” Fortunately, it was virtually impossible to bug an airliner’s cabin.
“Call it foreign-policy laboratory work,” Clark suggested, checking the first-class menu. At least British Airways pretended to serve decent food, though why airlines didn’t just stock up on Big Macs and fries still mystified him. Or maybe a Domino’s pizza. All the money they’d save—but the McDonald’s in the UK just didn’t seem to have the right beef. In Italy it was even worse. But their national dish was veal Milanese, and that had a Big Mac beat. “You worried?”
“About having a job? Not really. I can always make real money consulting. You know, the two of us could start up a company, executive security or like that, and really clean up. I’d do the planning, and you’d do the actual protection. You know, just stand there and stare at people in that special ‘don’t fuck with me’ way you do.”
“Too old for that, Domingo.”
“Ain’t nobody dumb enough to kick an old lion in the ass, John. I’m too short to scare bad guys away.”
“Bullshit. I wouldn’t mess with you for the fun of it.”
Chavez had rarely received that magnitude of compliment. He was overly sensitive about his diminutive height—his wife was an inch taller—but it had its tactical value. Over the years, several people had underestimated him and then come within his reach. Not professionals. Those could read his eyes and see the danger that lay behind them. When he bothered to turn the lights on. It rarely came to that, though one street tough in east London had gotten impolite outside a pub. He’d been awakened later with a pint of beer and a playing card tucked in his pocket. It was the queen of clubs, but the back of the card had been a glossy black. Such instances were rare. England remained a civilized country for the most part, and Chavez never went looking for trouble. He’d learned that lesson over the years. The black deck of cards was an unauthorized souvenir for the Men of Black. The newspapers had picked up on it, and Clark had come down hard on the men who carried the cards. But not that hard. There was security, and there was panache. The boys he’d left behind in Wales had both, and that, really, was okay, as long as the troops knew where the line was.
“What do you think our best job was?”
“Gotta be the amusement park. Malloy did a great job of setting your team down on the castle, and the takedown you did was damned near perfect, especially since we couldn’t rehearse it.”
“Damn, those were good troops,” Domingo agreed with a smile. “My old Ninjas didn’t even come close, and I thought they were as good as soldiers got.”
“They were, but experience counts for a lot.” Every one of the Rainbow team was at least an E-6 or equivalent, which took some years in uniform to achieve. “A lot of smarts comes along with time, and it’s not the sort of thing you get out of a book. Then we trained the hell out of them.”
“Tell me about it. If I run any more, I’ll need two new legs.”
Clark snorted. “You’re still a pup. But I’ll tell ya this: I’ve never seen a better bunch of triggers, and I’ve seen a fair share. Christ, it’s like they were born with H-and-P’s in their hands. How about it, Ding, got a personal champ?”
“Have to measure it with an O-scope and calipers. I’d take Eddie Price for brains. Weber or Johnston on a rifle, hell, there ain’t nothing to choose from. For short guns, that little Frenchie, Loiselle . . . He could have scared Doc Holliday out of Tombstone. But you know, all you can really do is put a bullet in the X-ring. Dead is dead. We could all do it, close or far, day or night, awake or asleep, drunk or sober.”
“Which is why we’re paid the big money.”
“Shame they’re pulling back on the reins.”
“A damned shame.”
“Why, goddamn it? I just don’t get it.”
“Because the European terrorists have gone to ground. We shut them down, Ding, and in the process worked ourselves out of a full-time job. At least they didn’t pull the plug altogether. Given the nature of politics, we’ll call that a success and ride into the sunset.”
“With a pat on the back and an attaboy.”
“You expect gratitude from democratic governments?” John asked with a slight grimace. “You poor, naive boy.”