John Abbott - Scimitar

The door eased shut behind him.

He was looking at a large man wearing a white cotton jacket of the sort people wore in supermarkets. Embroidered in red over the breast on the left-hand side of the jacket were the words SeaCoast Limited. The man’s looks were clearly Arabian. Black hair and dark brooding eyes, an aquiline nose. A strapping man of the desert stuffed into a cheap white jacket that was too tight across his shoulders. But this was no camel herder.

“I’m Arthur,” he said, and smiled, and rose, extending his hand.

Arthur Scopes. The Martin Hackett was for civilians, but Arthur was the code name he’d be using for the business at hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Sonny said.

“Sit down, hmm?” Arthur said, and indicated a straight-backed wooden chair in front of his very dark, virtually black, indeterminately wooden desk. The windows here in the front office faced the Columbus Avenue side of the building. On the street below, Sonny could hear cab drivers impatiently honking their horns. The walls were painted a grim shade of grey. There were two pictures hanging on the wall behind the desk, one of what appeared to be a French landscape, the other of a laughing peasant girl with golden curls. Sonny took the chair. It was uncomfortable.

“So,” Arthur said. “You’ve been briefed, hmm?”

“I’ve been briefed, yes.”

“Have you read the letter?”

“I’ve read it.”

“Does it explain everything?”

“Everything,” Sonny said.

He had read the letter at least a dozen times. Remembering the events it had triggered, he became enraged all over again, the anger igniting his eyes — but only for an instant. He was a professional; there was work to be done here.

“What happened to Mother?” he asked.

“Mm, Mother,” Arthur said, and tented his fingers. Huge hands. Blunt fingertips. Manicured nails. “She was murdered,” he said.

Sonny’s eyebrows went up.

“We don’t know who or why. We’re watching it closely. This may be a countermeasure of some sort.”

“How was she killed?” Sonny asked.

“Gunshot wounds. All we really know so far is what we’ve read in the newspapers. The police are still investigating. I’ll keep you informed.”

“I hope you will. If my back needs covering...”

“Oh, no question, we’ll let you know at once.” He hesitated a moment, and then said, “Were you told this is a No-Fail operation?”

“No.”

“That’s what it is. Does that trouble you?”

“Not particularly. I’ve been trained for any eventuality.”

“You understand, don’t you, that a pistol is out of the question?”

“Yes. That’s what No-Fail...”

“Because pistols aren’t infallible, are they?” Arthur said. “We don’t want him surviving, the way Reagan did. And we don’t want him left a vegetable, either. He’s to be eliminated , hmm? Cleanly. Completely. And anonymously.”

Sonny looked at him.

“We’ll claim no credit afterward, we want no later retaliation. Just kill him, Sonny. And vanish.”

Or die if I must, Sonny thought.

“Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. What will you need?”

“A drop.”

“Use SeaCoast.”

“Can I have deliveries made here?”

“Of course.”

“Are we still using the same cobbler?”

“McDermott, yes.”

“Is he at the same address?”

“Yes. East Seventieth Street.”

“I’ll also need some basic information.”

“What sort?”

“Precinct numbers, the addresses of police supply...”

A buzzer sounded on Arthur’s desk console. He hit a button.

“Yes?”

“A Mrs. Fremont on four,” the Chinese girl said.

“I told you not to disturb us.”

“She said it’s urgent.”

Sighing heavily, Arthur hit another button on the console and picked up the receiver. “Hello?” he said, and listened for a moment. “No, don’t be silly,” he said, rolling his eyes heavenward, “always plenty of time for you.” He listened again, nodded, said, “Mmm, I see. Yes, a very good idea, and I quite agree it’s of paramount importance to make certain the fish is fresh. But, you know... SeaCoast is a wholesaler, hmm? Yes. To restaurants and fish markets and the like. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yes, I see. Well, what I could do... hmm? The seventeenth, did you say? Well, that’s... well, let me see,” he said, and glanced at his desk calendar. “That’s still three weeks off, I’m sure I could...” He rolled his eyes again, impatiently this time, and listened for what seemed an interminably long time. “What I was going to suggest ,” he said, “was that I put you in touch with a retailer on the island... yes, I’ll be happy to do that. I’ll find a good one and get back to you. I’m sure I have your number, but let me have it again, hmm? Uh-huh,” he said, writing, “uh-huh, good. I’ll call you as soon as I... what? Oh. Thank you. The seventeenth, yes, I’ll put it on my calendar. Good talking to you,” he said, and hung up and expelled his breath in exaggerated exasperation. “A neighbor,” he explained. “She’s having a fish party, God help me.”

Sonny smiled.

“You were saying?” Arthur said.

“Police supply houses, police precincts...”

“You’re planning elementary substitution, hmm?”

The “hmm?” was an annoying verbal tic that threaded his conversation like a shiny metallic wire.

“I’m not sure,” Sonny said. “But I’ll need to know which precinct the Plaza is in...”

“Of course. But you realize, don’t you, that we’re still not sure he’ll be at the Canadian affair?”

“I’ll be there, anyway.”

“Ready to improvise, hmm? Play it by ear, so to speak.”

“No, I’ll have a plan by then.”

“It’s not that far off, you know.”

“I’ll have a plan, don’t worry.”

“You’ll want to check out the Baroque Room...”

“Is that where the...?”

“Yes, sorry. I got that today.”

“Still at the Plaza?”

“Yes. The Baroque Room at the Plaza Hotel. It’d be convenient if he did decide to come, wouldn’t it? Get him and the bitch at the same time, hmm? But I haven’t yet heard if that’s likely. The Statue of Liberty’ll be harder. It’s on an island, you know...”

“I know.”

“... and security will be very tight, I imagine. So...”

“I’ll need the number of that precinct, too.”

“I’ll get it for you. But... I was about to say... if you’re planning to go in as a cop, it might be extremely difficult. The space is too confined, and getting close to him...”

“That’s what I’ll have to figure out.”

“Be much easier at the Plaza. Big ballroom, lots of space to roam around in, lots of exits and entrances. Even so, it won’t be easy. I don’t know what kind of security the British will provide for Thatcher, if any at all, now that she’s out of office, but I’m sure the Canadians and Mexicans’ll have agents all over the place. And if Bush does show up...” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Be literally thick with them, hmm?”

Sonny nodded. He was thinking that either way — the ballroom or the island — he might have to do a lay-in job. He didn’t want to discuss that quite yet, not until he knew for sure what his weapon would be and how he would...

“What weapon did you plan to use?” Arthur asked.

Mind reader, Sonny thought.

“I don’t know yet. I didn’t know this was a No-Fail till just...”

“Of course. The point is, will you need help?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ll let me know, of course.”

“Of course.”