C-17. Be careful what you wish for.
Buck returned to the subject of Colonel Hakim and said to Kate and me, “Paul texted me about your delay at the airport, and it’s nothing to worry about.” He added, “We will file a formal complaint.”
“Good,” I replied, not giving a damn. I said, “Thank you, a scotch and soda would be fine.” I thought you’d never ask.
Buck invited us to sit, and he played host and moved to a rolling bar, asking, “And what would Mrs. Corey like?”
“Just water, please.”
Brenner, too, wanted water. Wimp.
Buck seemed to be drinking what looked like a gin and tonic with lime, but no little paper umbrella.
So we sat around a cocktail table, lit with a few bug candles, and Buck raised his glass and said, “To a successful mission.” We all clinked.
Buck informed us, “I’ll be joining you on this assignment, as will Paul.”
Mr. Buckminster Harris didn’t look like the killer type, but I’ve been surprised before. And as I suspected, Mr. Brenner was on the team.
Buck reminded us, “I speak fluent Arabic and you’ll need that.” He informed us, “Paul speaks a little, but it’s not conversational. It’s giving orders, such as, ‘Get out of my way, you son of a goat.’ ”
Brenner and Harris both got a chuckle out of that, as though they’d shared this joke before. So obviously they knew each other, and obviously Buck worked here, or maybe he shuttled back and forth to D.C. and/or New York. He had me fooled back at 26 Fed, and I was sure it wasn’t the last time I’d be fooled here, but it was the last time I’d take it so well.
Buck continued, “There is a fifth person on our team, but he’s not here tonight.”
Kate asked, “Where is he, who is he, and when can we expect him?”
Buck looked at her and replied, “I can’t answer that now.”
I said to Buck, “Maybe you can tell us now who the boss is.”
“I am,” said Buck.
“And may I ask who you work for?”
“The United States government, Mr. Corey, the same as you do.”
There’s always a CIA guy when it’s an overseas whack or snatch job, but as I’d concluded in New York, Buck didn’t look or act like any CIA guy I ever had the pleasure of knowing or working with, including the late Mr. Ted Nash. More on Mr. Nash later. Nevertheless, for the record, I asked Buck, “Company man?”
“No.”
I looked at Brenner, who shook his head. Well, I wasn’t CIA, and I didn’t think Kate was, so if everyone was telling the truth then the fifth person was the guy.
I like to know who I’m trusting my life with, so I asked Buck, “SDI?”
He nodded. State Department Intelligence was sort of a gentlemen’s game, so that fit.
I looked at Brenner, who said, “DSS, as I said.” He added, “But this job sounded interesting, so I volunteered.”
Buck leaned forward and said in a soft voice, “I’m enjoying the cool morning, but we’ll need to go inside to speak more freely.”
Right. The embassy walls could have electronic ears, though that was unlikely here in Yemen. I mean, this wasn’t the Cold War, the Arabs weren’t the Russians, and the PSO weren’t the KGB. Still, you had to follow security procedures, and not make the common mistake of underestimating these people.
Buck said to us, but really for anyone listening, “We have a number of very good leads on the location of six of the Cole plotters.” He winked and continued, “We have good sources inside the Political Security Organization.” Then for fun he said, “This Colonel Hakim that you met at the airport is actually on our payroll.”
We all got a smile out of that. And if the PSO was listening, then poor Colonel Hakim would have electrodes clipped to his nuts in about an hour. Payback’s a bitch, Colonel.
Buck, on a roll now, continued, “We’ve also been able to plant listening devices inside PSO Headquarters.”
Okay, Buck, don’t push your credibility.
Clearly he was enjoying this game, and you’d never expect Buck Harris to be so delightfully devious, or such a con artist. I had the thought, based on Buck’s age and my instincts, that Mr. Ivy League of State Department Intelligence had been an old Cold Warrior, and maybe this new war on terrorism was just a way to occupy his time and his mind at the end of his career. Or, like me, Brenner, and thousands of other men and women since 9/11, he