He said something to the others in a language that came from the back of his throat, and they nodded. “Very well, Inspector. We get down to business.” The plum had dripped onto his chin. He ignored it. “The talks you are holding. I’ll be blunt. They are a problem for us if they make progress.”
“I don’t think there’s much danger of that.”
“You may not think so. We do not think so. But things sometimes take an odd bounce in these talks. Do you play soccer?”
“Too much running around,” I said.
“Then you know what I mean. An odd bounce in a game that seems to be going nowhere, and suddenly someone makes a goal. If your talks should suddenly make a goal, that would be a problem.” He finally reached up and wiped away the drop of plum juice. “Like watching dirt on another man’s face.”
Sohn had sent me out to talk to the Americans in Geneva; instead I was somewhere in France—or Italy, if they were to be trusted—sharing a fruit bowl with Mossad. Sohn didn’t make mistakes. I was here because he wanted me to end up here. When he played soccer, I had a feeling, the ball only bounced where he wanted it to. “If the talks succeed,” I said, “it will stop our missile sales to your neighbors. I take it that isn’t what you really want, even though you say that it is.”
“To the contrary, it is very much what we want. And as you know, we are prepared to invest quite a bit in your country if we can be sure we are getting what we need. We want those missile transfers to stop, not slow down, not be rerouted. We want them to stop. But if the talks succeed, that will not happen. Why? Because you don’t trust the Americans, your side will probe for the seams in an agreement.”
Ahmet hissed through his false teeth.
“The deal will fall through sooner or later; and we will end up losing a lot of precious time on the problem. If the talks succeed, by which is commonly understood you sign something and drink a glass of champagne, we will be put on the sidelines and told not to interfere. Meanwhile, and this is our estimate, so please contradict me if you think we are wrong, your own situation will not improve. You will gain nothing from the negotiated deal, and the money you earn from sales elsewhere, even from your old customers, will become a pittance because no one will trust you anymore as a supplier. How can anyone sign a contract with someone who takes their money and then negotiates away the deal, tears it up for diplomatic gain? They barely trust you as it is. You see my point.” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “So it comes down to this: Would your side rather deal with someone who can deliver, or someone who can’t? That’s the choice. That’s the message that we want you to pass to Sohn.” He threw the plum pit into the fireplace and walked out of the room without saying good night.
7
“Don’t turn around, but that is probably one of your M. Beret’s boys who just swung in behind us.”
“Why do you keep calling him ‘my’ M. Beret? He isn’t mine. If anything he’s yours. You’re the one who dined with him last night. I didn’t even eat.” I could see headlights in the rearview mirror.
Jenö accelerated slightly and turned into the narrow street. “I’ll drop you just past that warehouse, up there, on the right. You’ll have to jump out while the car is moving. Are you trained for that?” It wasn’t a skill we used in Pyongyang, but that was no business of Mossad.
“See you around,” I said and reached for the door handle.
“You might want to release your seat belt first, Inspector.”
“European sequencing,” I said. Fortunately, we had slowed enough so that when I jumped out, I only stumbled against a lightpost and fell into a pile of boxes. Jenö?s car disappeared; the one that had been following us squealed around the corner and roared past.
When I limped in the front door of my hotel, M. Beret was sitting with a book in his lap, dozing. He looked up when the door clicked shut.
“Ah, Inspector. Alarm bells have been ringing. Your mission is in an uproar wondering where you are. The talks were recessed and angry words have been exchanged. Your side says you have