The Collectors (Camel Club 2)

“Okay, we’ll just let that go for now. What exactly do you want?”

“I thought I was clear in your office about my intentions—”

“Yeah, yeah! I know what you said. I want to know what you meant by it.”

“This isn’t something I’m prepared to discuss over the phone. NS—,” she began, and then said quickly, “Hard-line phones aren’t very secure.”

“You were going to say NSA, weren’t you?” he shot back. “The spooks, I know all about them.”

“With all due respect, nobody knows all about NSA, not even POTUS,” she said, dropping one more carefully scripted initialism.

There was a silence on the end of the line.

“Are you still there?” she asked.

He snapped, “I’m here!”

“Do you want to meet at your office?”

“That’s no good. I’m, uh, I’m already headed out of town.”

“No, you’re not. You’re sitting in your office right now.” This information was what Tony had e-mailed Leo.

The line immediately went dead.

She put the phone down, looked at Leo and gave him a reassuring wink.

He let out a deep breath. “Deep waters we’re treading in, Annie.”

She looked amused. “You only called me Annie when you were really, really nervous, Leo.”

He wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead and lit up a Winston. “Yeah. Well, some things don’t change, do they?”

The phone rang again. She picked it up.

“This is my town,” Bagger said menacingly. “Nobody spies on me in my town.”

She said calmly, “Mr. Bagger, since this whole thing seems to be upsetting you, I’ll make it easy. I’ll report back that you turned down our second and final offer. That way you won’t have to worry about it anymore. And like I said, I’ll just go elsewhere.”

“There isn’t a casino around here that would believe your half-ass story.”

“It’s not just a story. We wouldn’t expect savvy casino operators to take this on faith. So we do trial runs. Let them make a lot of money very quickly, and then they decide. Either they’re in or out. And they get to keep the profits regardless.”

She could hear him breathing on the other end of the line.

“How much money?” he asked.

“How much do you want?”

“Why would the government offer me this kind of a deal?”

“There are many forms of ‘the government.’ Just because one part doesn’t particularly care for you doesn’t mean other elements don’t see advantages. For us it’s the very fact that Justice is after you that we’re interested.”

“How do you figure that as an advantage?”

“Because who’d ever believe that the U.S. government would be partnering with you?” she stated simply.

“Are you with NSA?”

“No.”

“CIA?”

“I’m going to answer every question like that with an unqualified ‘no.’ And I don’t carry my badge or creds in situations like this.”

“I got politicians in my pocket in Washington. One call and I’ll know.”

“One call and you’ll know nothing because the field I work in, the politicians know zip about. But call away. Call the CIA. They’re in Langley, that’s in McLean, Virginia, in case you didn’t know. A lot of people think they’re based in D.C. Believe it or not, they’re actually listed in the phone book. You’ll want the National Clandestine Service—it used to be called the Operations Directorate. But just to save you the call, they’ll tell you they never heard of Pamela Young or International Management, Inc.”

“How do I know this isn’t some kind of sting operation the feds are running?”

“I’m not a lawyer, but I’d have to say it would be a pretty clear case of entrapment. And if you want to check us for a surveillance wire, feel free.”

Bagger said, “What kind of trial run?”

“A few clicks on the computer.”

“Explain that.”

“Not over the phone. Face-to-face.”

She could hear him sigh.

“You eaten dinner?” he asked.

“No.”

“Pompeii, ten minutes. They’ll meet you at the front door.”

The line went dead.

She hung up and looked over at Leo. “We’re in.”

“And now comes the flash,” he said.

“And now comes the flash,” Annabelle agreed.

CHAPTER 20

AN HOUR LATER THEY WERE finishing an excellent dinner prepared by Bagger’s personal chef. Bagger took his glass of bourbon and Annabelle and Leo their wine and settled down in comfortable leather chairs near a flickering gas fire.

Bagger had taken Annabelle up on her offer and had her and Leo checked for listening devices.

“Okay, bellies full, livers pickled, talk to me,” Bagger ordered. He held up a finger. “First, what are you guys up to? And then tell me about the money.”

Annabelle sat back cradling her drink, glanced at Leo and said, “You remember Iran-Contra?”

“Vaguely.”

“There are occasions when the interests of America are best served by providing aid to countries and certain organizations that don’t have popular support in the U.S.”

“What, like giving guns to Osama to fight the Russians?” he sneered.

“It’s a choice of the lesser of two evils. Goes on all the time.”

“So what’s that got to do with me?”

“We have money from very discreet sources, some of it private, but it needs to be ‘finessed’ before it can be deployed,” she said, sipping her wine.

“You mean laundered,” Bagger said.

She smiled coyly. “No, I mean finessed.”

“I’m still not getting the connection.”

“El Banco del Caribe. You know it?”

“Should I?”

Leo spoke up. “Isn’t that where you park some of your casino cash? They specialize in disappearing money, for a price. No taxes.”

Bagger had half risen from his seat.

Annabelle said, “It’s part of our job to know things like that,” she said. “Don’t take it personally. You’re not the only one we have a file on.”

Bagger sat back down and eyed her spiky hair. “You don’t look like a