Casing the Colors © Week 26

Casing the Colors © Week 26 • • • CHAPTER 44 • • After breakfast, Alexei Katerinov left Rabat to return to Moscow so that he could travel to Geneva openly. Maurice Julien stayed in Rabat to be the West's link with the Arab leaders. Kate phoned Stu Wellford and Bill Stevens to let them know that the plan was unfolding as expected. When Dave Browning talked to him, Miguel quickly agreed in principle to working with the Arabs to help South America. The price was right and he hoped their safety net would protect him if he cooperated. Raqqa was a less sure bet, he told Dave. "I'll try my best to convince him," Miguel said to Dave, "but with or without Raqqa, count me in." Dave Browning's jet landed at Geneva's Cointrin Airport in early afternoon. For security reasons, another of his jets had been dispatched earlier from New York to go to Monterrey and pick up Carlos Miguel and Raqqa. Dave and Kate left the Geneva Airport in a limousine, driving down toward Lac Léman, where the Hotel Grammont, one of the finest in the city, nestled in a side street off the Quai du Mont Blanc on the right bank of the Rhone. Their suite, two bedrooms connected by a living room, dining area and service kitchen, looked diagonally out across the lake toward the old city, with its stone ramparts and cathedral. They could see the point where the lake meets the river, and rounding the lake to the left bank, their vista included the English gardens and the quai on the opposite side of the lake. The day was dull gray, with a damp chill in the air. In the city of Calvin, his presence was always more tangible in the winter, Kate noted, when his city's weather reflected its stern Protestant history. The Russian security guard took Dave to his room, leaving Kate to unpack. Looking out the window, she remembered how much more she preferred Geneva in June, when roses and sun welcomed visitors. But, she told herself, they weren't in Geneva for a holiday. She was startled when the phone rang. It was Paul Taylor, calling from Paris. "Kate, there are military security units on the floor with you. Your phone and Dave's are being monitored. So is the entire suite. We'll always know what's happening, if you remember to talk about it. There is another suite reserved for Miguel and Raqqa. The plane has left Monterrey, we're monitoring it." "Is Raqqa on board?" Kate asked. "We can't be sure because we don't know what he looks like, but there are three men aboard." "Has Alexei left Moscow?" "No, his plane landed sometime ago and it's still there. My guess is he'll be in Geneva sometime after midnight." "While we're waiting, I'll get things set up with Dave. Have you briefed Jacques LeNoir?" "Yes. He's waiting for our next report. Listen," Paul Taylor continued, "there's a trench coat type tailing you. With him and the Russian in place, you'll be safe, even if the Navy isn't there." "Thanks, Paul. I'll be fine." "Right. Talk to you later. Good luck." Kate phoned the Geneva private bank contact that she had been given in Rabat, and went into the living room, whose good copies of Louis XIV furniture and rich colors gave it an air of refinement and affluence. Dave and the Russian were playing with the TV trying to find an English channel. "Why in the hell can't we find a decent channel," he fumed nervously. "We need to leave soon," she said above the TV noise, "to keep our appointment with the bank. Miguel will feel more comfortable if he knows you've seen the money," she added. "Yeah, and so will I," Dave said. "Let's go." The limousine took Dave Browning, Kate Gordon and the Russian across the Pont du Mont Blanc and wound through the narrow streets of Geneva's commercial district, squeezed between the lake and the ramparts of the old city. When the limousine stopped, a liveried doorman welcomed them in front of a large polished wood door set in a granite facade. The entry was marked by a brass address plaque inlaid in the granite wall near the door. Inside, instead of tellers or cash machines, there was a foyer furnished with a gilt mirror and console on which sat a tall porcelain vase holding a colorful flower arrangement. The marble floor showed around the edges of a Persian carpet. The walls were bare, except for an elevator discreetly hidden by its mahogany doors made to match the mahogany panel walls. The doorman spoke to them by name as he led them into the elevator. He rode with them to the third floor, where a middle-aged man in a dark gray suit waited. "Welcome, Miss Gordon," he said in crisp Oxford English. "We are honored to be able to help you." As Kate responded, the man was already turning to Dave. "Mr. Browning, welcome. Please," he motioned, "come with me." They followed him along a perfectly empty corridor, its mahogany office doors closed against the pale celadon walls and carpet. The Russian, unacknowledged, walked behind them and stationed himself at the door to the banker's office to wait while they had their meeting. The banker motioned them into a private conference room and closed the door behind them. "I am Mr. Thompson. I will be your personal banker, Mr. Browning. Whenever you want anything, please use my private telephone line." "Thank you, Mr. Thompson," Dave said. "Now, if we can get down to details, tell me about my account. Amount. Investments." Mr. Thompson gave Dave the account number and balance, told him about its interest rates and how the bank normally put its clients' money to work. He talked without a file or notes. Dave listened politely, then said, "We'll discuss better investments later. What I need to know now is whether there are restrictions on my use of the account." "Certainly not, Mr. Browning," the banker replied. "None at all." "Fine. Now, tell me about the other accounts." Mr. Thompson glanced at Kate. She nodded affirmatively. "Mr. Browning, the other two accounts are exactly like yours, with different numbers, of course, but with the same balance and freedom of access." Dave stood up, ending the meeting. Mr. Thompson gave each of them his card. It contained his name, the bank address and phone number. There was no mention of banking or business, as if the bank didn't exist. Back in the limousine, Dave sighed disgustedly. "I need a drink. Goddamn, how I hate bankers. They're all alike, so unctuous and superior, at the same time. It's a particular talent. They must be bred for it, like good heifers." "Relax, Dave, it'll all be over tomorrow," Kate said soothingly. "Then you'll be in charge of Mr. Thompson." "Right, kid," he answered, patting her knee. "I don't suppose this town has a decent steak." "The hotel has one of Geneva's really excellent restaurants. Let's try it." "Okay. Our keeper probably doesn't like steaks," he said, nodding toward the Russian in the front seat. And, "maybe he'll leave us alone." After a superb dinner, Kate left Dave to be tucked in by the Russian while she went back to her room to wait for Alexei. An hour later, the phone rang. "I'm on my way, Darling." She heard Alexei's voice. "We should be in Geneva by 2 a.m. Call President Wellford and tell him I've had several local Moscow press inquiries about you and me. He'll probably be getting them soon, and your father, too. Clear the way for a marriage announcement from Geneva, perhaps at the same time that we make the Alliance announcement." "I'll phone," Kate said. "Is everything all right from your end for the announcements." "I think so. I've spoken to the parliamentary leaders and my own advisors. The hard-liners don't like the idea of a Russian-American pact, but we are too far ahead of them for any reaction before the Alliance is in place. Our marriage is another matter. They really can't object, unless they label me a traitor simply for falling in love. That's a little too much, even for them." After Kate had arranged everything with Washington, she dozed off. The phone awakened her. It was Dave. "Miguel's here and he wants to talk," he said. "Now? Alexei isn't here yet." "Miguel said now. Please come into the living room." She dressed quickly, trying to think of the questions Miguel would ask and what Raqqa would want. Miguel didn't waste time with polite conversation. "Katharine, I am pleased to see you because you are my guarantee. Without you, I never would have come to Geneva. Raqqa was not so trusting. So you and I will have to talk without him." "You are perfectly safe here," she replied, "with or without me." "But when one is being paid to betray one's associate, there may be doubts," he said cynically. Kate looked at Dave. "Kate, I didn't tell him. You know I didn't." Miguel laughed. "Of course not. I haven't survived for thirty years by trusting anybody. Not even Dave." "What do you want?" Kate asked. His response surprised her. "I want to play, but we need to change the stakes," he said. "I can deliver Raqqa but I want his account, too. Half of it now and half when I deliver him. And," he said casually, "I'll need another five million to pay for his assassination." Kate sat down. Dave handed her a scotch and helped himself to one. "You will arrange to assassinate Raqqa?" "Certainly, my dear," Miguel said. "If we are all going to live together from now on, it will be necessary. Raqqa would simply be a nuisance. It is better to eliminate him now and let the world sort out the ethics of it later." "I'll have to talk to several people," she said, putting down the scotch without tasting it. "Give me a couple hours." "I understand. But, remember, the Arabs won't be disappointed if Raqqa never arrives in Rabat. Neither will Alexei Katerinov. Talk to your father. He can explain it to Stuart Wellford. He's the one with over-developed scruples. Except for marital fidelity," he added insultingly. "As for the White House leak, do what you want, but don't touch Dave." Miguel watched her, his dark eyes almost solicitous in their gaze. "I'll wait for Alexei," she said after several seconds of reflection. "I'll be in my room. Please stay in the hotel." Miguel laughed again. "It would be difficult to leave without taking the US Marines with me. Katharine, tell them I want the money today or no deal." When Alexei arrived, he found Kate sitting at the desk in her room, talking on the phone. He bent over to kiss her. "Admiral Taylor, she said, "Alexei just came in. Can I phone you back after I fill him in?" "Fill me in about what," he asked, tossing his jacket on the sofa and loosening his tie. Kate recounted Miguel's demands. "It would be a lot cleaner than smuggling Raqqa into Rabat," Alexei answered. "I can't imagine the king will object. What was Admiral Taylor's reaction?" "The same as yours. He's on the phone with Washington now. We're supposed to call General Julien." A half hour later, the Alliance players had agreed to Miguel's proposal. Secretary Stevens and Pete Lowell phoned Kate and Alexei to confirm America's position. "We want no other killings and no hostages," Pete said. "Tell Miguel the assassin will be on his own and so will Miguel if anything goes wrong." "And no five million dollars," Stu added. "Miguel can pay for the deal out of Raqqa's fifty million as a sign of friendship. We'll make five of it available immediately. It will be delivered to you by 7 a.m." "Why argue about five million dollars?" Alexei asked. "Give him the money and let him get on with it." "It's not the money, President Katerinov," Pete Lowell responded. "We need to show some toughness if we're going to live with Miguel in the future." "Live with him? I assumed he'd be part of the deal with Raqqa. Dead and buried with the terrorists." "We might need him in the future," Bill Stevens answered. "Who knows what might happen without him." "Can't we take care of whatever happens?" Alexei insisted. "Miguel would be easier to explain," Bill said. "We don't want to be embarrassed. Besides, he can act without clearances." "That's what I love about America," Alexei chuckled, his voice cool but sharp. "You are acting without benefit of Constitution or election, and yet you worry about clearances for contract killers. Miguel is dangerous to all of us while he is alive. We all know his reputation and I can tell you that it is not exaggerated." Scott Bennett, who was in the Oval Office with Bill Stevens and Pete Lowell listening to the telephone conversation, broke in. "He won't be with us forever, President Katerinov, but we can use him now, to help stop the Texas border fighting and to control the army in Mexico." "Scott, I didn't know you were there," Kate said, surprised and dismayed at the information the phone call had given him about her and Alexei, before she had the chance to tell him herself. "I'm here, all right, Kate. Your father and Stu told me about the press release. Congratulations. You'll have to tell me all about it sometime." "The silence was my fault," Alexei said. "I had to deal with my government before Kate could speak to you, or anyone else. I believe you have been in the public eye long enough to understand, General Bennett." "Of course, Mr. President, and you have my best wishes. Now, let's get the Raqqa deal settled," he said, dismissing Kate and Alexei's marriage.