Nelson Demille - The Lion's Game

"Are you okay?"

"I'm thinking."

"The flight is boarding."

"I'm thinking. Help me."

"How can I help you? I don't even know what you're thinking about."

"What is this bastard up to?"

The bartender asked, "Can I get you folks some fresh drinks?"

"Get lost."

"John!"

"Sorry," I said to the bartender, who was backing away.

"John, the flight is boarding."

"You go ahead. I'm staying here."

"Are you crazy?"

"No. Asad Khalil is crazy. I'm fine. Go catch your flight."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"Yes, you are. You're a career officer with a pension. I'm a contract guy, and I've got an NYPD pension. I'm okay on this. You're not. Don't break your father's heart. Go."

"No. Not without you. That's final."

"Now I'm under a lot of pressure."

"To do what!"

"Help me on this, Kate. Why does Khalil need a rifle?"

"To kill someone at long range."

"Right. Who?"

"You."

"No. Think newspaper."

"Okay. Newspaper. Someone important who's well guarded."

"Right. I keep thinking back to what Gabe said."

"What did Gabe say?"

"Lots of things. He said Khalil was going for the big one. He said, 'Terrible he rode alone… notches on his blade…'"

"What?"

"He said this was a blood feud…"

"We know that. Khalil has avenged the deaths of his family."

"Has he?"

"Yes. Except for Wiggins, and Callum, who's dying. Wiggins is beyond his reach-but he'll take you in exchange."

"He might want me, but I'm not a substitute for who he really wants, and neither were those people on board Flight One-Seven-Five or the people in the Conquistador Club.

There's someone else on his original list… we're forgetting something."

"Do a word association."

"Okay… newspaper, Gabe, rifle, Khalil, bombing raid, Khalil, revenge-"

"Think back to when you first had this thought, John. Back in New York. That's what I do. I put myself back to where I was when I first had a-"

"That's it! I was reading those press clippings about the raid, and I had this thought… and then… had this weird dream on the plane coming here… it had to do with a movie… an old western movie…"

A voice came over the intercom and announced, "Last call for boarding United Airlines Flight Two-Zero-Four to Washington Dulles Airport. Last call."

"Okay… here it comes. Mrs. Gadhafi. What did she say in that article?"

Kate thought a second, then replied, "She said… she would forever consider the United States her enemy… unless-" Kate looked at me. "Oh, my God… no, it can't be… is that possible?"

We looked at each other, and it was all clear. It was so clear that it was like glass, and we'd been looking right through it for days. I asked her, "Where does he live? He lives here. Right?"

"Bel Air."

I was off the stool now and didn't bother retrieving my canvas bag as I headed toward the club exit. Kate was right beside me. I asked her, "Where's Bel Air?"

"About fifteen, maybe twenty miles north of here. Right near Beverly Hills."

We were now back in the terminal and heading for the taxi stand outside. I said to her, "Get on your cell phone and call the office."

She hesitated, and I didn't blame her. I said, "Better safe than sorry. Right? Use just the right combination of concern and urgency."

We were outside the terminal, and she dialed a number, but it wasn't the FBI office. She said, "Doug? Sorry to bother you at this hour, but… yes, everything's fine…"

I didn't want to get into a taxi and have this conversation in earshot of the driver, so we stood away from the taxi stand.

Kate said, "Yes, we did miss the flight… please listen-"

"Give me the fucking phone."

She gave it to me, and I said, "This is Corey. Just listen. Here's a word for you-Fatwah. Like when a mullah puts a contract out on somebody. Okay? Listen. It is my belief, based on something which just popped into my head-and which is a product of five days of dealing with this shit-that Asad Khalil is going to assassinate Ronald Reagan."

Off we went in the taxi to the LAPD airport station where our car hadn't yet been driven back to Ventura. So far, so good.

We got in the car and headed north toward the home of the Great Satan.

I mean, I don't think he's the Great Satan, and to the extent I have any political leanings, I'm an anarchist and I think all government and all politicians suck.

Also, of course, Ronald Reagan was a very old and very sick man, so who would want to kill him? Well, Asad Khalil for one, who lost a family as a result of Reagan's order to bomb Libya. Also, Mr. and Mrs Gadhafi, who lost a daughter, not to mention losing a few months of sleep before the ringing in their ears stopped.

Kate was behind the wheel, driving fast on the San Something Freeway. She said, "Would Khalil really…? I mean, Reagan is…"

"Ronald Reagan may not remember the incident, but I assure you, Asad Khalil does."

"Right… I understand… but what if we're wrong?"

"What if we're not?"

She didn't reply.

I said, "Look, it fits, but even if we're wrong, we came to a really clever conclusion."

"How is it clever if it's wrong?"

"Just drive." I said, "Even if we're wrong, there's nothing lost."

"We just lost our fucking jobs."

"We can open a bed-and-breakfast."

"How the hell did I get involved with you?"

"Drive." /

We were clipping along at a good pace, but of course Douglas Doo-doo had already raised the alarm, and there were people in place at the Reagan house by now, so we weren't exactly the Seventh Cavalry riding to the rescue. I said to her, "How many Secret Service do you think he has there?"

"Not many."

"Why is that?"

"Well, as best I can recall from my limited dealings with the L.A. Secret Service office, the risk to the Reagans is assumed to go down every year, plus there are budget and manpower considerations." She added, "In fact, only a few years ago, some disturbed individual actually got on the grounds of their estate and into the house while they were home."

"Incredible."

"But they're not underprotected. They have a sort of discretionary fund, and they hire private guards to supplement the Secret Service detail. Plus, the local cops keep a close watch on the house. Also, the L.A. FBI office was always available when needed. Like now."

"Plus, we're on the way."

"Right. How much more protection can anyone want?"

"Depends on who's gunning for you."

She reminded me, "We did not have to miss that flight. Our phone call would have sufficed."

"I'll cover you."

"Don't do me any more favors, please." She added, "This is all your ego at work."

"I'm just trying to do the right thing. This is the right thing."

"No, it is not. The right thing is to follow orders."

"Think about how much more we can talk about at a press conference if we can collar Asad Khalil tonight."

"You're hopeless. Look, John, you do realize that if Khalil, or an accomplice, is staking out the Reagan house, and he sees that there is unusual activity there, then Khalil is gone forever, and we'll never know if your guess was correct. Basically, for us, it's a lose-lose situation."

"I know. But there's a chance that Khalil is waiting for another night and that the Reagan house is not being watched tonight by him or by an accomplice. Then, I assume, the Secret Service will try to do what the FBI did at Wiggins' house, and also at the Callum house."

"The Secret Service is in the protection business, John. Not the bait-and-trap business, especially if the bait is an ex-President."

"Well, obviously they have to move the Reagans to a safe location, and let the FBI set the trap without the bait. Right?"