Nelson Demille - The Lion's Game

"How would you dress for a day like that?"

Chuckle, chuckle.

The California Chardonnay was good, and we slurped up a full bottle of it, disqualifying us from driving for a while. I paid the tab, which wasn't too bad, and we walked around downtown Beverly Hills, which is actually quite nice. I noticed, however, that the only pedestrians were hordes of Japanese tourists snapping pictures and making videotapes.

We walked and window-shopped. I pointed out to Kate that her ketchup-colored blazer and black slacks were getting a bit rumpled, and offered to buy her a new outfit. She said, "Good idea. But it will cost you a minimum of two thousand dollars on Rodeo Drive."

I cleared my throat and replied, "I'll buy you an iron."

She laughed.

I looked at a few dress shirts in the windows and the prices looked like area codes. But sport that I am, I bought a bag of homemade chocolates, which we ate while we walked. As I say, there weren't many pedestrians, so I wasn't surprised to discover that the Japanese tourists were videotaping Kate and me. I said to her, "They think you're a movie star."

"You're so sweet. You're the star. You're my star."

Normally, I would have blown the chocolates all over the sidewalk, but I was in love, walking on a cloud, love songs running through my head, and all that.

I said, "I've seen enough of L.A. Let's get a room somewhere."

"This isn't L.A. It's Beverly Hills. There's a lot I want to show you."

"There's a lot I want to see, but your clothes are covering it all." Isn't that romantic?

She seemed game, despite the fact that we were now engaged, and we got back in the car, doing a little tour on the way to someplace called Marina del Rey near the airport.

She found a nice motel on the water, and we checked in, carrying our canvas FBI bags to the room.

The view from our window was of the marina where lots of boats sat at anchor, and again I was reminded of my stay on eastern Long Island. If I learned anything there, it was not to get attached to any person, place, or thing. But what we learn and what we do are rarely the same thing.

I noticed that Kate was staring at me, so I smiled and said, "Thanks for a nice day."

She smiled in return, then thought a moment and said, "I would not have introduced you to Doug. He insisted on meeting you."

I nodded. "I understand. It's okay."

So, that was out of the way, with me acting with savoir faire. However, I made a mental note to knee Doug in the balls at the first opportunity. Kate gave me a big kiss.

Shortly thereafter, we were in bed, and, of course, her cell phone rang. It had to be answered, which meant I had to stop doing what I was doing. I rolled off, cursing the inventor of the cell phone.

Kate sat up, caught her breath, and answered the phone, "Mayfield." She listened, her hand over the mouthpiece as she took a few more breaths. She said, "Okay… yes… yes, we did… no, we're… just sitting by the water in Marina del Rey. Right… okay… I'll leave the car in the LAPD lot… right… thanks for calling. Yes. You, too. Bye." She hung up, then cleared her throat and said, "I hate when that happens."

I didn't reply.

She said, "Well, that was Doug. Nothing to report. But he said he'd have someone call us as late as half an hour before we board, if anything came up that might change our plans. Also, he heard from Washington, and short of Khalil being captured around here, we're to fly out tonight. However, if he is apprehended here, then we stay and do a press conference here."

She glanced at me, then continued, "We're the heros of the moment, and we have to be where most of the cameras will be. Hollywood and Washington work the same way."

Again, she glanced at me and went on, "It's a little phony, and I don't like it, but with a case like this, you have to pay attention to the media. Quite frankly, the FBI could use a shot of good press."

She smiled at me and said, "Well, where were we?" She climbed on top and looked into my eyes. She said in a quiet voice, "Just fuck me. Okay? It's just you and me tonight. There's no world out there. There's no past and no future. Just now and just us."

The phone rang, which startled both of us out of our sleep. Kate picked up her cell phone, but a phone kept ringing, and we realized it was the room phone. I picked it up, and a voice said, "This is your ten-fifteen wake-up call. Have a good evening." I hung up. "Wake-up call."

We got out of bed, washed, got dressed, checked out of the motel, and got in the car. It was nearly 11:00 P.M., meaning 2:00 A.M. in New York, and my body clock was totally screwed up.

Kate got on the road, and we headed toward LAX only a few miles away. I could see jetliners taking off and heading west out over the ocean.

Kate said, "Do you want me to call the L.A. office?"

"No need."

"Okay. You know what I'm afraid of-that while we're airborne, Khalil will be apprehended. I really wanted to be in on that. So do you. Hello? Wake up."

"I'm thinking."

"Enough thinking. Talk to me."

We talked. She pulled into the airport and went to the LAPD facility where a pleasant desk sergeant was actually expecting us and had a ride waiting to take us to the domestic terminal. I didn't think I could get used to all this nice shit.

Anyway, the young LAPD driver treated us like we were stars and wanted to talk about Asad Khalil. Kate indulged him, and I played NYPD and grunted out of the side of my mouth.

We got out of the car and were wished a good evening and a safe flight.

We went into the terminal and checked in at the United Airlines counter where our two Business Class tickets awaited us. Our Firearms Boarding passes were already filled out, needing only our signatures on the forms. The ticket agent informed us, "We start boarding in twenty minutes, but if you'd like, you can use the Red Carpet Club," and she gave us two passes for the club.

I was waiting for something really awful to happen now, the way New Yorkers do, but what could be worse than everyone smiling at you and wishing you all good things?

Anyway, we went to the Red Carpet Club and were buzzed in. A raven-haired goddess at the desk smiled and took our passes, then directed us to the lounge where the drinks were on the house. Of course, by now, I figured I had died and gone to California heaven.

I didn't feel like alcohol, despite the upcoming dry flight across the continent, so I went to the bar and got a Coke, and Kate took a bottled water from the bartender.

There were snacks at the bar, and I sat. Kate said, "Do you want to sit in the lounge?"

"No. I like bars."

She sat on the stool beside me. I drank my Coke, ate cheese and peanuts, and flipped through a newspaper.

She was looking at me in the bar mirror, and I caught her eye. All women look good to me in bar mirrors, but Kate really looked good. I smiled.

She smiled in return. She said, "I don't want an engagement ring. They're a waste of money."

"Can you give me the translation of that?"

"No, I really mean it. Stop being a wise-ass."

"You told me to stay the way I was."

"Not exactly the way you were."

"I see." Uh-oh.

Her phone rang, and she took it out of her purse and answered, "Mayfield." She listened, then said, "Okay. Thanks. See you in a few days." She put the phone in her pocket and said, "Duty officer. Nothing new. We are not saved by the bell."

"We should try to save ourselves from this flight."

"If we don't get on this flight, we are through. Heroes or no heroes."

"I know." I sat there and put my brain into overdrive. I said to Kate, "I think the rifle is the key.'

"To what?"

"Hold on… something's coming…"

"What?"

I looked at my newspaper on the bar, and something started to seep into my brain. It wasn't anything to do with what was in the paper-it was the sports section. Newspaper. What? It was coming, then it slipped away again. Come on, Corey. Get it. This was like trying to get a brain erection except the brain kept getting soft.