Mostly he waited, trying to be patient, maintaining discipline, eager to do his real work. So when an executive from New Age Technology at last phoned, announced that he'd be in Fairfax on business, and wondered if he could pay a visit, Buchanan thought, Soon. Soon I'll be useful. Soon I won't be bored.
His controller knocked on the door on schedule. That was four p.m. on a Friday, and when Buchanan-MacDonald glanced through the door's security eye, then let him in, the short, gaunt man in a rumpled suit placed his briefcase on the living room's coffee table, waited for Buchanan-MacDonald to close and bolt the entrance, then studied his surroundings and asked, 'Which would you prefer? To go for a walk or stay here?'
'The apartment's clean.'
'Good.' The hollow-cheeked controller opened his briefcase. 'I need your driver's license, your passport, your birth certificate, your credit cards, all of your documents for Brian MacDonald. Here are the release forms for you to sign, and here's my signed receipt.'
Buchanan complied.
'Now here are your further documents,' the thin-lipped controller continued, 'and the acceptance form for you to sign. Your new name is Edward Potter. You used to be employed as a. Well, it's all in this file. Every detail of your new background. Knowing how retentive your memory is, I assume that as usual you'll be able to absorb the information by the time I come back to retrieve the file tomorrow morning. What's wrong?'
'What took you so long to get in touch with me?' Buchanan asked. 'It's been two months.'
'After your last assignment, we wanted you to disappear for a while. Also we thought we'd have a use for you as Brian MacDonald. Now that scenario's been discarded. We've got a much more interesting project for you. I think you'll be pleased. It's as important as it is risky. It'll give you quite a rush.'
'Tell me about it.'
His controller studied him. 'I sometimes forget how intense field operatives can be, how anxious they are to. But then, of course, that's why you're field operatives. Because.'
'Because? I've asked myself that many times. What's the answer?'
'I should have thought that was obvious. You enjoy being someone else.'
'Yes. Exactly. So indulge me. Pretend I'm a method actor. What's my new character's motivation?'
4
In the restaurant in Cancun's Club Internacional, Buchanan showed no fear when the first twin threatened him. Instead he replied matter-of-factly, 'Give you a reason not to kill me? I can give you several million of them.'
'We have many millions as it is,' the first twin said. 'What makes you think a few more would make us risk trusting you?'
'Human nature. No matter how much money a person has, it's never enough. Besides,' Buchanan said, 'I didn't offer a few million. I offered several.''
'Hard to spend in prison. Impossible to spend in the grave,' the second twin said. 'The practical response to your offer is to eliminate your interference. We resent a competitor, and we have no need for a partner.'
In the background, the drone of conversing diners muffled their exchange.
'That's just the point,' Buchanan said, still showing no apprehension. 'I don't want to be your competitor, and you do need a partner.'
The second twin bristled. 'You have the nerve to tell us what we need. Your eggs are truly hardboiled.'
'But they can be cracked,' the first twin growled.
'Definitely,' Buchanan said. 'I knew the danger when I set up shop here.'
'Not only here, but in Merida, Acapulco, and Puerto Vallarta,' the second twin said angrily.
'Plus a few other resorts where you apparently don't know I've established contacts.'
The first twin's eyes narrowed, emphasizing their hawklike intensity. 'You have the impudence to brag to our faces.'
'No.' Buchanan shook his head emphatically. 'I'm not bragging. I'm being candid. I hope you'll appreciate my honesty. I assure you, I'm not being disrespectful.'
The twins considered his apology, frowned at each other, nodded with sullen reluctance, and leaned back in their chairs.
'But by your own admission, you've been extremely industrious,' the second twin said. 'And at our expense.'
'How else could I have attracted your attention?' Buchanan spread his hands deferentially. 'Consider the risk I took, a norteamericano, suddenly conducting business not only in Mexico, but in your backyard, in your country's resorts, especially here in Cancun. Even with my special knowledge, I had no idea who to approach. Fernandez, I suspected you,' Buchanan told the first man. 'But I had no idea you had a twin, and to tell the truth' - Buchanan switched his attention to the second man - 'I don't know which of you is Fernandez. When you entered this restaurant, I confess I was stunned. Gemelos. Twins. That explains so much. It was never clear to me how Fernandez could be in two places, Merida and Acapulco, for example, at one time.'
The first man twisted his thin lips in what passed for a grin. 'That was our intention. To cause confusion.' Abruptly he sobered. 'But how did you know that even one of us had the first name of Fernandez?' He spoke with increasing speed and ferocity. 'What is this special information to which you refer? When our subordinates paid you our courtesy of warning you to stop interfering with our business, why did you ask for this meeting and give our subordinates the names on this sheet of paper?
To demonstrate, the first twin reached into his wrinkled, linen suit coat and produced a folded page. He slapped it onto the table. 'The names on this paper are some of our most trusted associates.'
'Well' - Buchanan shrugged -'that just goes to show.'
'Show what?
'How mistaken you can be about trusted associates.'
'Fucker of your mother, what are you talking about?' the second twin demanded.
So the bait really worked, Buchanan thought. I'm in! I've got their attention! Hell, they wouldn't have both shown up if they weren't afraid. That list of names spooked them more than I hoped.
'What am I talking about?' Buchanan said. 'I'm talking about why you should trust me instead of those bastards. I used to belong to the.'
Again Buchanan coughed in warning.
The twins stiffened as their waiter returned, carrying a tray from which he set onto the table a plate of sliced limes, a bowl of salt, a small spoon, and six shot glasses filled with amber tequila.
'Gracias,' Buchanan said. 'Give us ten minutes before we order dinner.'
He used the tiny, metal spoon to place salt on his left hand, on the web of skin between his thumb and first finger. 'Salud,' he told the twins. He licked the salt from his hand, quickly swallowed the contents of one of the glasses, and as quickly bit into a slice of lime. The sour juice of the lime spurted over his tongue, mixing with the sweet taste of the tequila and the bitterness of the salt, the various flavors combining perfectly. His mouth puckered slightly. His eyes almost watered.
'Never mind drinking to our health. Just worry about yours,' the first twin said.
'I'm not worried,' Buchanan said. 'I think we're going to have a productive relationship.' He watched them lick salt, swallow tequila, and chew on wedges of lime.