due to Workman’s disappearance. As far as she was concerned, he was a fellow agent, not a mole. She must have backtracked what he was working on and found a link to the Syrians, not realizing he was actually in their pocket. She’d follow his lead on the conference, and want to finish up what Workman had started. The fact that he was missing and presumed dead wouldn’t faze her. To her, it would be an incentive. To avenge a fellow agent. She’d want to check out the conference and see what the Syrians were up to. She couldn’t come at them directly, and risk winding up like Workman, but she needed an overview of what was going on. The answer was Rene Darjon, the playboy entrepreneur who was financing the convention. Making a play for him was just the type of flamboyant gesture she’d be apt to try. On his arm, she’d have access to everything. And he’d be eager to show off. Through him, she could get inside information on the Syrians. Her only problem was, she couldn’t approach them directly.
Teddy could.
62.
TEDDY WENT BACK to the barroom, grabbed a glass of bourbon, and barged up to the Syrians. “Hey, star buddies!” he said, pointing at the stars on the name tags. “I heard what that guy said. We’re the chosen ones. Can you say that? Is that a religion thing, or something? We can go to the panel and they can’t, right, buddy?”
Fahd turned up his nose. “It is just another panel. For which we happen to have admission.” He spoke swiftly and quietly, an obvious effort to quiet down the brash Texan.
“Of course, of course,” Teddy said. “I don’t mean to be loud, I just am. We do things big in Texas. Not a quiet state. But look what happened here. Took my gun. Did you see that? Actually took my gun. I feel naked without it.”
Fahd said nothing and tried to ignore him.
“I’m a big-game hunter,” Teddy persisted. “Do you hunt?” He looked at Aziz. “I bet he does.”
Aziz’s expression did not change. Clearly he hadn’t recognized Teddy.
Teddy turned back to Fahd. “Floyd Maitland. Pleased to meet you.”
Fahd ignored the extended hand. “Mr. Maitland, the instructions regarding the small panel were quite specific, and chief among them is the discretion of the attendees. I suggest you read them over.” Fahd turned away and began to gather his group, but Teddy was not deterred. He turned to the two scientists, Dr. Chaim and Dr. Badim according to Jacques’s notes. “You guys read ’em?”
The scientists looked at each other.
“Hey,” Teddy said. “This is a party. Have a drink. Loosen up.”
The zoologist had a drink. That would be Dr. Chaim. He held it up, as if for show-and-tell.
Teddy shook his head. “You guys look like you’re on your way to the gallows. Hey, let me buy you a round.”
“That is not necessary,” Fahd said.
“Of course it isn’t necessary. It’s a gesture of goodwill.” Teddy turned to Dr. Badim. “You there. Drink up, drink up. What are you going to do, nurse one drink all evening? This is a party. Drink up, I’ll get you another. And you there,” he said to Dr. Chaim. “What are you having?”
Dr. Chaim looked guilty, as if he’d been caught with it. “A Manhattan.”
Teddy burst out laughing. “‘A Manhattan’? How about that. You’re drinking our drinks. I’d watch this one. He might just defect.”
Fahd did not find that funny. Teddy hadn’t expected him to. Goading the strongman was part of his game. It was also fun.
“So what will you have?” Teddy asked Fahd.
“I’m not drinking.”
“No, no, no, no, no. You’ve gotta have something. You don’t have to have some candy-ass American drink, but something. What will it be?”
Fahd realized the man wouldn’t give up until he answered. “Vodka.”
“On the rocks?”
“No.”
“And you?” Teddy said to Aziz.
“He will have vodka.”
“Did you hear that?” Teddy said. “You will have vodka.”
Teddy plowed his way to the bar, pulling out money as he went. “Lotta drinks,” he announced. “Three shots of vodka, a Manhattan, and a bourbon on the rocks.” He waved a hundred-dollar bill at the bartender. “Can you take it out of this?”
“But of course.”
“Good. Put ’em on a tray, and you can keep whatever’s left.”
All thoughts of Teddy being a nuisance were forgotten. The bartender was all too happy to fill the order.
Teddy took the tray back to the Syrian contingent.
“Here you go. Bottoms up. That’s what we say in my country. It means drink the