Snake went cold. “That’s not my thing.”
“I know it is not. I will arrange for that.”
“All right. But won’t whoever’s treating Winston put two and two together and figure he’s been dosed with this stuff?”
“Not unless Vanduyne tells them. The chloramphenicol will be long out of his system, and his doctors will not know about his previous bout of aplastic anemia.”
“Why not?”
“Because he himself removed it from his medical records years ago. Thomas Winston wanted a spotless medical history when he presented himself to the American public.”
“Then how do you—?”
Salinas smiled. “My dear Miguel, should it surprise you that I have excellent sources?”
“No,” he said slowly. “Not at all.” Snake was just beginning to grasp Salinas’s reach. The President’s announcement was only last night, yet he and Salinas had been planning this snatch for two months. Salinas had known all along and had been ready to pounce as soon as Winston publicly committed himself.
And he even knew what Winston had wiped from his medical history years ago. This guy had a dedicated T-3 line into the government—he was connected.
Salinas leaned back again. “So you see? Everything is arranged. It’s a perfect plan.” The reassurances rolled off Snake like a used car salesman’s promises, and the cold within him grew as he took stock.
Alien Gold, who knew all the intricacies of Salinas’s empire, had been sent from the room. That told Snake that Salinas was playing this hand very close to his ample vest. Maybe only he and his bosses in Colombia knew the real target. The only other people who’d know would be Snake and Vanduyne himself. And afterward, they planned to eliminate Vanduyne and his kid.
Which would leave only one loose end: “Miguel” MacLaglen and his two hirelings. How do you measure the lifespan of three people who know enough to bring down the Cali cartel? Nanoseconds sounded generous. And who would be the first to go? The know-nothing hirelings, or the guy who had worked out all the details with Salinas?
Snake tossed off the rest of the Scotch. He needed some antifreeze against the ice forming in his veins.
He glanced down at his shirt-button mike. I hope you’re working today.
First thing tomorrow, he’d be back with a little present for the big man—he hoped. But right now he had to concentrate on his next steps. This gig was going to be a real balancing act. Everything would have to go down by the numbers. If he screwed up, his insurance wouldn’t mean diddly.
He cleared his throat. “All right. What’s the next step?”
“That should be obvious, I think. First thing tomorrow you contact the honorable doctor and tell him that if he wishes to see his precious child again, he must give his friend and patient a hefty dose of chloramphenicol.”
“How’s he supposed to do that?”
“We will leave that up to him. He is a devoted father who wants his child back: He will find a way.”
“And what if—Let’s just say he refuses. What then?”
“You will tell him that if President Winston shows up at the Hague conference next week—”
“What’s so important about this conference?”
“As a symbol, it is of immense importance. It is there that he will place his legalization plan before the world community as U.S. official international policy. That must not happen. And so you will tell the doctor that if Winston arrives at the conference, you will kill his little girl… but not before you do some very nasty things to her. And as proof, you start returning his daughter one piece at a time. I believe you have used that method before.”
Snake nodded. “It’s very persuasive. I’ve never had to send more than one piece.” Antsy as Vanduyne was, he was so wrapped up in his kid he probably wouldn’t need a persuader. Or maybe he’d need one just to keep him in line.
“Good. Then you know what to do. Contact me tomorrow after you have spoken to Dr. Vanduyne.”
“I’ll come by personally,” Snake said. “It may not be something I want to discuss over the phone.” But he intended to deliver more than just a report on Vanduyne.
“If you wish,” Salinas said. “Llosa will show you out. Good night.”
Snake guessed that meant the meeting was over. Fine. He’d had enough of Salinas for the evening.
On the way out he retrieved his pistol from Llosa and figured the beefy bodyguard would probably get the assignment to whack “Miguel” and his people.
Except Salinas would have to change that part of his plans.
33
Once out in the night air, the enormity of what he was involved in body slammed Snake full force. He staggered out of the alley and looked up and down M Street.
I’m going to put the President—the President of the United fucking States—out of business. Maybe even off him. I’m going to be changing the course of history. Me!
But not only did he have to keep a close eye on what was going on in front of him, he had to watch his back as well. Much as he loved adrenaline, this might be too much of a good thing. But dammit, he loved this feeling.
And tomorrow it would get even better. Tomorrow he’d put it to the doc that he was going to have to choose between his daughter and his old friend… his kid and the leader of the free world. How cool was that?
Yeah, if he could come through it all in one piece, this gig might just ruin him for anything else. Where could he play again for stakes this high? This was it: the mother of all buzzes. He had to soak up every last drop.
34
“That poor child!” John held his mother and let her sob against his shoulder.
The reversal of roles—the parent crying on the child’s shoulder—unsettled him. He’d never seen her like this, not even when his dad died.
“Don’t worry, Ma. Katie’s going to be fine. We know she’s alive. That’s the important thing. She’s alive and we’ll keep her that way. I’ll find out what they want from me, and whatever it is, I’ll do it. Then we’ll get her back.”
“Oh, that poor child,” she said. “That poor, poor child.”
She’d been repeating the phrase endlessly. She was beginning to sound like a stuck record and that worried John. He couldn’t have her going off the deep end now, not when he needed to focus every fiber of his being on getting Katie back.
“She’s tougher than we realize, Ma. We all are. We got through everything else, we can get through this. They picked up her Tegretol, so at least we know she’s getting her medication.” He hoped that was true, prayed they hadn’t picked up the pills simply for show.
Please, he thought, whoever you are, follow the directions on that bottle. She’s got to have her Tegretol twice a day. If she doesn’t get it—
“That poor, poor child!”
35
Paulie lay on his back and stared into the darkness of the second bedroom as Poppy dozed with her head on his shoulder. Had this been a great night or what?
He’d come back from the drugstore run with two pizzas and a couple of magnums of Cook’s champagne. So it wasn’t imported and it wasn’t expensive—so what? He’d guzzled both ends of the price range and got just as looped either way.
The goodies had worked their magic. Poppy really lightened up when she saw that he’d brought her a sauteed broccoli and eggplant pizza. She was into vegetables these days and that was her favorite combo. He’d bought a pepperoni pie for himself.
She fed some pizza to the kid, who requested pepperoni—good choice, kid—then they went to work on their own pies and started killing those magnums.
All of which had the desired effect: Poppy damn near fucked his brains out—once on the living room floor, and then again here in the bed.