Robin Cook - Vector

“Whoa!” Jack said to the man. “You got the wrong table. We haven’t ordered anything yet.”

“Isn’t this the Montgomery party?” the waiter asked. He had a Spanish accent and an old-fashioned handlebar mustache. Even though Elio’s was an Italian restaurant, it had a decidedly cosmopolitan staff.

“Yeah, but...” Jack said.

“Then it’s been ordered,” the waiter said. He popped the cork and nestled the bottle back into its ice bucket. He then uncorked the two bottles of wine.

“This looks like a good wine,” Jack commented as he picked up one of the wine bottles and glanced at the label.

“Oh, very good!” the waiter agreed. “I’ll be back with the glasses.”

Jack looked over at Lou. “This isn’t the jug wine I usually drink.”

“I’m getting more nervous,” Lou said. “Laurie’s the thrifty sort.”

“You got a point,” Jack agreed. Whenever they went out, Laurie always insisted on paying her own way.

As soon as the waiter came back with the glasses, he proceeded to pour some champagne for Jack and Lou. Jack tried to say that they’d wait for Miss Montgomery, but the waiter insisted he was following the lady’s orders.

After the waiter departed Jack picked up his flute. Lou did the same. They touched glasses although neither spoke. Jack tried to think of a toast but nothing appropriate or witty came to mind. Silently they tasted the sparkling wine.

“I suppose it’s good,” Lou said. “But I’ve never been a big fan of champagne. I think of it more as something to squirt around at athletic victories.”

“My feeling exactly,” Jack said. He took another sip and as he did, he caught sight of Laurie over the rim of his long-stemmed glass. She was dressed in a snug black velvet pants suit that outlined her undeniably shapely female form. A triple-stranded pearl necklace was clasped around her neck. To Jack she looked absolutely radiant. So much so that he momentarily choked on his champagne.

Both Jack and Lou struggled to their feet. The quarters were so tight that Lou nudged the table enough to spill his glass of champagne. Luckily Jack was still holding his.

“Oh, what a klutz!” Lou complained.

Laurie laughed, grabbed a napkin, and wiped up the spilled wine. The waiter appeared instantly to lend a hand.

“Thank you both for coming,” Laurie said. She gave each a peck on the cheek.

It was at that point that Jack realized Laurie was not alone. Coming up behind her was a darkly tanned, olive-complected man with thick, wavy hair and a mouth full of startlingly white teeth. He wasn’t too much taller than Laurie’s five feet five inches, but he projected a confident and powerful air. Jack guessed he was close to his own age. He was dressed in a dark silk suit that made Lou’s look as if it had come off a rack in a bargain basement. A bright foulard pocket square ballooned from his breast pocket.

“I want you to meet Paul Sutherland,” Laurie said. Her voice quavered as if she was nervous.

Jack shook hands with the man after Lou. As their eyes met, Jack had trouble telling where the man’s irises stopped and his pupils began. It was like looking into the depths of black marbles. His handshake was firm and resolute.

“Why are we standing?” Laurie asked.

Paul responded by instantly pulling Laurie’s chair out from the table. Once Laurie was sitting the others followed suit. The waiter quickly filled the champagne glasses.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Laurie said. “To friends.”

“Hear, hear!” Paul echoed.

They all touched glasses and drank.

There was a brief uncomfortable silence. Jack and Lou had no idea why Laurie had brought a stranger to their dinner party and were afraid to ask.

“Well,” Laurie said finally. “What a day this has been, wouldn’t you say, Lou?”

“Absolutely,” Lou agreed.

“I hope you don’t mind a little shop talk, Paul,” Laurie said. “That skinhead case I mentioned to you earlier had Lou and me tied up for most of the day.”

“Not at all,” Paul said. “I’m sure I’ll be fascinated. That old TV show about a medical examiner was one of my favorites.”

“Paul is a businessman,” Laurie explained.

Both Jack and Lou nodded in unison. Jack expected more of an explanation of what type of businessman, but Laurie changed the subject: “I learned more today about the violent far right than I wanted to know,” she said. “Particularly about right-wing militias and skinheads.”

“I didn’t know anything about the role of music in the skinhead movement,” Lou said.

“What amazes me and scares me is that this militia movement is nationwide,” Laurie said. “Special Agent Gordon Tyrrell estimates there are some forty thousand armed survivalists spread across the country waiting for God knows what.”

“I think they’re waiting for the government to implode from the weight of its huge bureaucracy,” Paul said. “Sort of like a neutron star. Then the survivalists will be in a position not only to survive but also to take over.”

“They’re not above helping it along,” Laurie said. “Agent Tyrrell said that undermining the government has become the rationale for violence now that the Soviet Union is no longer the archetypal enemy.”

“Revenge is also a rationale,” Lou said. “Consider Timothy McVeigh. He was apparently trying to get back at the government for the raid on the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas.”

“Back then I was under the delusion that Timothy McVeigh was an anomaly,” Laurie said. “But it’s not true, and that’s the terrifying part. There are forty thousand potential Timothy McVeighs out there. No one knows where one will strike next and on what pretense.”

“Or with what,” Jack said. “Remember the lecture we got from Stan Thornton and the office of Emergency Management? It’s not inconceivable for one of those nuts to get his hands on a weapon of mass destruction.”

“God help us if that were ever to happen,” Laurie said.

“Gordon Tyrrell doesn’t think it’s a question of if ,” Lou said. “His anti-terrorism department thinks the question is when . Just think of all the nuclear weapons that are not entirely accounted for in what used to be the Soviet Union.”

“Let’s order our dinners,” Laurie said with a dejected shake of her head. “If we talk about this much longer, I’m going to lose my appetite.”

The waiter came over to the table the moment he was summoned. He rattled off an impressive list of specials while divvying up the rest of the champagne. Once everyone had ordered, he disappeared into the kitchen.

“I’ve one last question about your skinhead case,” Jack said to Laurie. “Did you find anything at autopsy that was helpful for the FBI?”

Laurie sighed and glanced at Lou. “Not really. What do you say, Lou?”

“Your impression that the stab wounds were made with a knife with a serrated upper edge might help,” Lou said. “Provided the knife turns up. Also the bullet you took out of the brain might be useful, but it’s hard to say at this point until ballistics looks at it. The fact that the crucifying nails were of Polish manufacture is not going to be any help because I’ve already found out they’re widely distributed.”

“So this PAA or People’s Aryan Army is still a metropolitan unknown?” Jack asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Lou said. “The only reassuring part is that Internet traffic concerning them has suddenly dropped off. We’re hoping that means whatever they’d been planning has been canceled.”

“Let’s hope so,” Jack said.

The appetizers began to arrive and the red wine was poured. The four concentrated on their food and for a time, conversation was minimal. Jack surreptitiously eyed Laurie but was unable to make any eye contact.