“Desperate perhaps. That’s what our man in the cab said.” She added, “He’s going to be all right.”
“Professionals aren’t desperate. The American should have discarded his gun in the bushes and walked calmly away. Instead he ran, as though surprised by the unexpected.”
“Alvaradejo had a gun.”
“He should have allowed for that possibility.”
“The American’s aim was perfect,” the woman persisted, lighting a fresh cigarette.
“From an extremely close range. Doesn’t mean a thing.”
The woman hesitated. “He could have known about our ploy with the cab or guessed it. The panic might have been a facade meant to take our man’s guard down. Apparently it succeeded.”
The one-eyed man wasn’t satisfied. “Yet he still waited until our cabdriver had gone for his gun before he acted.”
“He could be a showman. Americans have always gone in for the quick draw, cowboy stuff. Besides, he did quite a job on our man when it was called for.”
“But he was left alive. A professional would have killed him. A professional wouldn’t run from the chaos creating more.”
“Unless he was baiting us. And the trap worked. Arturo walked right into it. His fingers were still locked on his gun handle when they found him. Only a professional could have moved so fast.”
The one-eyed man shrugged. He waved away the smoke. “That is another thing that doesn’t fit. So thorough a killing with no witnesses …”
“As I said, the work of a professional,” the woman reiterated, pressing her cigarette out so not to annoy the man.
“Undeniably,” he said. His face twisted uncomfortably. “The American called for the meeting with Alvaradejo?”
“Just as we discovered he would. They sent him on Lubeck’s trail to kill all those Lubeck contacted, those who knew too much.”
“A college professor …”
“With six months of CIA training,” the woman said. “They say he dropped out. It was the perfect cover for his present employers.”
“Then why mention such training in his dossier at all?”
“It doesn’t matter. Obviously Locke leads a double life. His teaching allows him ample time for his second vocation. And no one raises questions if a teacher travels frequently. The cover is perfect. And Georgetown University, a coincidence he chose a college in Washington, you think?”
The one-eyed man said nothing.
“Everything fits,” the woman declared boldly. “This Locke is the worst kind of professional, one that is unpredictable, whose motions seem random when each step is actually cunningly thought out.” The woman paused. “I saw Arturo’s corpse. It was not an amateur’s blade which tore his throat. The problem now is that we have exposed our existence to Locke. He will be expecting us and he is good. Our advantage is gone.”
“Maybe not. Where did Alvaradejo send Lubeck?”
“Claus Felderberg in Liechtenstein.”
“Then it’s time to alter our strategy a bit….”
The shock of Burgess’s words hit Chris like a slap in the face.
This was the man responsible for his mother‘s death!
“I caught up with her on a beach just before dawn,” the big Brit continued. “There was a submarine surfacing a half mile off shore. They saw us and went back under. Your mother didn’t put up a fight. She knew it was over.” He sought out Locke’s eyes and hesitated. “A professional understands such things.”
“It’s a small world, isn’t it, Colin?” Chris asked with a calm that surprised him.
Burgess nodded. “And not a very pleasant one. You have the right to be angry with me, lad.”
Chris looked at him. “I can’t. I can’t feel angry. Part of me wants to but it’s not a big enough part. Brian’s dead. You’re all I’ve got. The past is finished.”
Even as he spoke, Chris knew it wasn’t quite true. For while events had shrunk down to memories, the past remained tightly woven into the present. He was there now partly because of his mother, and he found some reassurance in thinking his course had been charted long before. But when Burgess said, “Experience makes orphans of us all,” Chris knew that would have to be the truth for now.
The burly Englishman took his leave soon after but not without first obtaining Locke’s measurements. New clothes were needed. Locke would be doing a lot of traveling. There were arrangements to be made, information to be obtained. Claus Felderberg was a powerful man. There was no way Locke could simply call and make an appointment as he had with Alvaradejo. A cover was needed, a means of entry. And speed was of the essence.
That last thought made Locke shudder. Lubeck would have done everything he was doing and more, yet they had gotten the Luber. Could Chris realistically expect anything different? He had been lucky in London. So much depended on his luck holding up.
Locke tried to calm down, even nap, but couldn’t. Being faced with his mother’s treachery again after pushing it successfully aside for years added to his strain. He also had to face his own vulnerability. He was no longer just a piece in the game; he was a major player whose moves were his own, or would be once he reached Liechtenstein.
Before Burgess left, Chris begged to be allowed to contact his family.
“Not smart, lad,” the Englishman told him firmly. “Lines are too easily tapped these days. You might give away your location … and your advantage.”
“What about a safe line?”
“Around here they’re impossible to set up.”
“My family will be expecting a call,” Locke persisted. “When I don’t make it, they’ll get panicky. Then they’ll start with their own phone calls, maybe get themselves in trouble. I don’t think I can live with that.”
“Then don’t think about living, lad, think about dying, because that’s what will happen to you for sure if you take unnecessary risks. Give it a few more days. After Liechtenstein maybe.”
Locke reluctantly agreed.
Four hours later Burgess’s return was signaled by the happy barks of his dogs. Chris watched him approach from an upstairs window and met him at the front door.
“How did it go?”
The Englishman sighed and sat down in the first chair he saw. He looked tired and worn.
“I’m not used to this anymore, lad.” He moaned. “Too old, I suppose.” He leaned back and breathed deeply. “I got what we need to set you on your way but it wasn’t easy. Too many people had to be involved, which means there are too many chances for the information to slip into the wrong hands.”
“But you got it.”
Burgess tapped his jacket pocket. “All in here, including a new passport for you. I’ve got a suitcase full of clothes and toilet articles in the car. I still know all the tricks, lad, and God knows we’ll need them if we’re going to win.” He paused. “You leave for Liechtenstein tonight at nine. There was no time to arrange for private passage and most often it causes more attention than it’s worth anyway. Your transportation will all be public, and a hectic schedule it is, lad. Changes will be frequent. People will be looking for you. We must keep them off balance.” Burgess paused. “My sources tell me the entire country is being scoured for an American wanted for the murder of a Colombian diplomat.”
“What? It wasn’t murder!”
“It can be made to look like anything certain powerful forces want. The animals do not want you to have your own government as an ally. In fact, you’re also wanted for questioning with regard to the shooting of an American State Department liaison.”
“Brian …”
“Before much longer they may have his death pinned on you too.”