Honor Among Thieves

“Let’s start with Frank,” said Tony.

“First in then out, as Frank always is, but he likes money far too much to walk away from an offer as good as this.”

“You’re that confident?” said Tony.

“It’s not just the money,” replied his father. “Frank’s not going to have to be there on the day, is he? So he’ll get his share whatever happens. I’ve never yet met a lawyer who would make a good field commander. They’re too used to being paid whether they win or lose.”

“If you’re right, Al Calabrese may turn out to be the problem. He’s got the most to lose.”

“As our trade union leader, he’ll certainly have to be out there on center stage most of the day, but I suspect he won’t be able to resist the challenge.”

“And what about Bruno? If—” began the chief executive, but he was cut short as the doors swung open and Al Calabrese walked into the room. “We were just talking about you, Al.”

“Not too politely, I hope.”

“Well, that depends on—” said Tony.

“On whether I’m in?”

“Or out,” said the chairman.

“I’m in up to my neck is the answer,” said Al, smiling. “So you’d better have a foolproof plan to present to us.” He turned to face Tony. “Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as the man on top of America’s most wanted list.”

“And the others?” asked the chairman, as Bruno Morelli brushed past them without even saying goodnight.

Chapter Ten

Hannah nervously grabbed the ringing phone. “This is reception, madam. We were just wondering if you’ll be checking out before midday, or do you require the room for an extra night?”

“No, thank you,” said Hannah. “I’ll have left by twelve, one way or the other.”

Two minutes later, the phone rang again. It was Colonel Kratz. “Who were you speaking to a moment ago?”

“Reception was asking me when I would be checking out.”

“I see,” said Kratz. “Your baggage has been retrieved,” was all he added.

Hannah replaced the phone and stood up. She felt a shot of adrenaline go through her body as she prepared for her first real test. She picked up her overnight bag and left the room, switching the sign on the door to “Clean Me Please.”

Once she had reached the foyer, she had to wait only a few minutes before the hotel minibus returned from the airport on its circular journey. She sat alone in the back for the short trip to the departure area, then headed straight for the bookshop as instructed. She began to browse among the hardbacks, struck by how many American and British authors were obviously

read by the Lebanese.

“Do you know where I can get some money changed, miss?” Hannah turned to find a priest smiling at her, who had spoken in Arabic with a slight mid-Atlantic accent. Hannah apologized and replied in Arabic that she didn’t know where the currency exchange was, but perhaps the girl at the counter could help him.

As she turned back, Hannah became aware of someone else standing by her side. He removed a copy of A Suitable Boy from the shelf and replaced it with a bulky package. “Good luck,” he whispered, and was gone even before she had seen his face. Hannah removed the package from the shelf and strolled slowly out of the bookshop. She began to search for the check-in counter for Paris. It turned out to be the one with the longest line.

When she reached the front, Hannah requested a nonsmoking seat. The girl behind the counter checked her ticket and then began tapping away on her computer terminal. She looked puzzled. “Were you unhappy with the seat previously allocated to you, Miss Saib?”

“No, it’s just fine.” said Hannah, cursing herself for having made such a simple mistake. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“The flight will be boarding at Gate 17 in about fifteen minutes,” the girl added with a smile.

A man pretending to read the Vikram Seth novel he had just purchased watched as the plane took off. Satisfied he had carried out his instructions, he went to the nearest phone booth and rang first Paris and then Colonel Kratz to confirm that “The bird has flown.”

The man in the priest’s surplice also watched Miss Saib board her plane, and he too made a phone call. Not to Paris or London, but to Dexter Hutchins in Langley, Virginia.

Cavalli and his father walked back into the room and once again resumed their places at each end of the table. One seat was empty.