Similarly, I know that CI has been trying for years to kill Bourne, also without success. No, the only way for us to obtain what we want is to bring the two men together."
"Bourne likely has the Solomon ring with him, but will Arkadin have the laptop?"
"He doesn't let it out of his sight lately."
They began walking again, around and around the central fountain, where a robin was drinking while nervously watching them. Willard could relate to the bird's nervousness.
"If I didn't believe Oliver Liss," Willard said, "why should I believe you?"
"I don't expect you to believe me," El-Arian said. "But to prove my sincerity, this is what I propose: You help me get Bourne and Arkadin together - something you want, anyway - and I'll take Oliver Liss off your back."
"How are you going to do that? Liss is a man with a great deal of power."
"Believe me, Mr. Willard, Oliver Liss doesn't know the meaning of power." Benjamin El-Arian turned. His eyes caught the sunlight and seemed to spark like an engine starting up. "He will be removed from your life."
Willard shook his head. "I'm afraid promises aren't good enough. I'll be wanting half down, the remainder when I've brought Bourne and Arkadin together."
El-Arian spread his hands. "We're talking about a man, not money."
"That's your problem to solve," Willard said. "I'll start the ball rolling when - but only when - your actions back up your words."
"Well, then." El-Arian smiled. "I'll just have to arrange a change of scenery for Mr. Liss."
The Skydel hacienda sprawled at the center of the immense estancia. It was built in the Spanish colonial style with its white stucco walls, carved wooden shutters, wrought-iron grillwork, and curved terra-cotta roof tiles. A woman in a maid's uniform opened the door to Moira's knock and, when she introduced herself, led her across a terrazzo-floored foyer, through a large, cool living room, out onto a flagstone patio that overlooked a clay tennis court, gardens, and a swimming pool where a woman - presumably Berengaria Moreno - was doing laps. Beyond this vista stretched the ubiquitous blue agave fields.
The heady scent of Old World roses came to Moira as she was led toward a man sitting at a glass-and-wrought-iron table, laden with food on Mexican fired-clay plates, and pitchers of red and white sangria stuffed with slices of fresh fruit.
The man rose at her approach, smiling broadly. He wore a terry-cloth short-sleeved top and surfer's swimming trunks, revealing a lean, hairy body.
"Barbara!" he called over his shoulder. "Our guest is here!"
Then he held out his hand and gripped Moira's. "Good afternoon, Senorita Trevor. Narsico Skydel. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure's all mine," Moira said.
"Please." He gestured. "Make yourself at home."
"Thank you." Moira chose a chair near him.
"White or red?"
"White, please."
He poured two glasses of white sangria, handed her one, then sat. "You must be hungry after your long trip." He indicated the food. "Please help yourself."
By the time she had loaded a plate Berengaria Moreno - known here as Barbara Skydel - had finished her laps and, toweling off, was coming up the stone pathway to the patio. She was a tall, slim woman, her water-slicked hair pulled back from her handsome face in a ponytail. Moira imagined her with Roberto Corellos, cuckolding her husband. Barbara reached the patio and, barefoot, walked over. Her handshake was cool, firm, and business-like.
"Narsico's publicist said you're writing a piece about tequila, is that right?" Her voice was deep for a woman, and vibrant, as if at an early age she'd been taught to sing.
"It is." Moira took a sip of her sangria.
Launching into his opening pitch, Narsico informed her that tequila was made from the pina, the heart of the agave plant.
Barbara interrupted him. "What sort of a piece are you writing?" She sat on the opposite side of the table from the two of them, which Moira thought a telling choice. The natural thing would be to sit next to your husband.
"It's sociological, really. The origins of tequila, what it has meant to the Mexicans, that sort of thing."
"That sort of thing," Barbara echoed. "Well, to begin with tequila isn't a Mexican drink at all."
"But the Mexicans had to know about the agave plant."
"Of course." Barbara Skydel took a plate and filled it with food from different serving platters. "For centuries the pina had been cooked and sold as candy. Then the Spaniards invaded. It was the Spanish Franciscans who settled in this fertile valley and founded