Central Intelligence Agency.”
“How do you do, General?” O’Connor said. “May I present my colleague Mr. O’Hara?”
Mobutu shook their hands and said, “And these are my friends Dr. Dannelly and Colonel Jean-Baptiste Supo,” Mobutu said.
Everybody shook hands.
“And I think you know Mr. Finton, don’t you?” Lowell asked.
“Good evening, sir,” Finton said.
A houseboy appeared for their drink order.
O’Connor debated asking for something soft, but lost his resolve and ordered a gin and tonic. O’Hara followed his lead.
“I’ve been telling the general,” Lowell said. “That you have taken the time from your very busy schedule to come here to coordinate our mutual efforts with regard to Señor Guevara and his friends.”
“That’s true,” O’Connor said, and blurted, “And when are we going to have the time for that, Colonel?”
“I thought we’d do it over after-dinner coffee,” Lowell said. “I met with Colonel Supo and Major Lunsford this afternoon, and went over their plans. All we have to do is fit the CIA and its assets into the plan. That shouldn’t take long.”
O’Connor searched for words to reply.
“As I told the General,” Lowell went on, “Colonel Felter meant it when he said this is a cooperative effort and we are going to have no secrets from Colonel Supo or General Mobutu. You don’t have any problems with that, do you, Mr. O’Connor?”
Goddamn! O’Connor thought. What the hell is wrong with the Director? He should have known Felter would sandbag him!
“No, of course not,” O’Connor said as sincerely as he could.
Lowell smiled at him, then looked over his shoulder.
“Well, everybody’s here, I see,” he said.
The secretary to the Consul General of the United States in Dar es Salaam and that luminary himself were being escorted across the lawn toward them.
“General,” O’Connor said, “this is Mr. James Foster, the United States Consul General in Dar es Salaam, and his assistant, Miss Cecilia Taylor.”
“How do you do?” Mobutu said, and there was another round of introductions, during which Lieutenant Colonel Dahdi—who had had to walk from the gate to the house—showed up.
“Actually, General,” O’Connor announced, “Mr. Foster has duties beyond Consul General in Dar es Salaam.”
“You are right, Major,” General Mobutu said in Swahili, “she really is something to look at! An absolute beauty!”
“Well, since it’s truth time,” Lowell said, “why don’t we confide in General Mobutu that Miss Taylor is actually the Dar es Salaam CIA station chief?”
“So Major Lunsford led me to believe,” Mobutu said in French.
“Unfortunately, General,” Cecilia Taylor said in perfect Swahili, “Major Lunsford talks too much.”
Mobutu laughed out loud.
“You speak Swahili very well, mademoiselle,” Mobutu said in French. “Are you familiar with the Swahili saying?”—he gave the saying in Swahili.
Dannelly and Supo laughed. Supo waved his finger—naughty boy—at Father Lunsford, who looked very uncomfortable.
“I’ve heard that, yes,” Cecilia replied in French, and looked very uncomfortable.
“I don’t speak Swahili,” Lowell said.
“Or I,” O’Connor said.
“What does it mean, Father?” Lowell asked.
“Not me,” Father said.
“You may consider that an order to translate the General’s comments, Major Lunsford,” Lowell said.
For a moment, it looked as if Lunsford was going to refuse the order. Then he looked at Cecilia Taylor, who said, “Don’t you dare!”
“Man who thinks he’s in love can be counted upon to behave like orangutan in heat,” he translated, “and show the world his red ass.”
“If you gentlemen will excuse me,” Cecilia said, “I think I will go powder my nose.”
“Thanks a lot, General,” Father said when she was out of sight.
“I wouldn’t worry, my friend,” Mobutu said. “She likes you. I could see it in her eyes. Women can sense warriors, and warriors attract women.”
[ FIVE ]
Immediately after the dessert plates had been cleared from the table, as houseboys served both coffee and cognac, two Congolese paratroopers carried first a tripod, and then a map board, into the dining room.
I’ll be a sonofabitch! He’s actually going to do it! Howard W. O’Connor thought.
Lieutenant Colonel Craig W. Lowell stood up, cradling a cognac glass in his hand, rolling the cognac around in the glass.
“This is where, in times past,” Lowell said, looking at O’Con-nor, “the ladies retired, while the gentlemen sipped at their cognac and puffed on their cigars. But times have changed, and I would like to begin this session by offering my thanks, and that of Colonel Felter, to Marjorie and Ursula. Major Lunsford has told me how much they have contributed to Operation Earnest. Thank you, ladies.”
I’ll be a sonofabitch! O’Connor thought again.
Colonel Supo clapped his hands, and in a moment, General Mobutu joined in.
This has gone too goddamn far!
“Colonel,” O’Connor said.