“Did you try to reach me yesterday?” she asked.
“Yes, I called around three,” he said.
He was telling her there were three people there with him.
“Sorry I missed you. How can I help?”
“We need some cash,” he said.
“How much?” she asked.
To Wiggy, listening on the extension, this all sounded legitimate so far.
“Are you sitting down?” Halloway asked, and smiled.
Wiggy smiled, too.
So did the Mexicans.
Everyone was smiling at Halloway’s witticism.
“That much, huh?” Susan said.
Her name wasn’t Susan, but that’s who Wiggy thought she was. He also thought this was going along splendidly so far. He didn’t have the slightest notion that he and his two pals were being set up.
“Three-million-six,” Halloway said.
“Oh dear,” Susan said.
“Indeed,” Halloway said, and rolled his eyes heavenward.
Wiggy nodded encouragement. You’re doing fine so far, his nod said.
“Where do you want it?” Susan asked.
Wiggy motioned for Halloway to cover the mouthpiece with his hand.
“Tell her you’ll come there for it,” he whispered.
“I’ll come there for it, Sue.”
Warning her again that he had company, three in number, remember? Trouble, Sue. Or Suzie. Big trouble here. Come help us, Suze.
“How soon can you get it together?” he asked.
“How soon will you need it?”
“As soon as possible, Sue.”
“How does one o’clock sound?”
Halloway looked at Wiggy. Wiggy nodded.
“One o’clock sounds fine,” Halloway said.
“Allow yourself a half-hour to get here,” Susan said.
This meant he could expect help at twelve-thirty.
“I’ll have to make three or four calls, Dick.”
She was telling him she’d be sending three or four people.
“And, Dick …?”
“Yes, Sue?”
“They’re doing some work out front, lots of heavy machinery all over the place. Come in the back way, will you?”
“See you in a bit,” he said.
She had told him they’d be heavily armed. She had told him they’d come up the emergency staircase at the rear of the Headley Building. She had so much as told him that Walter Wiggins and his Mexican associates were already as good as dead.
The hands on the wall clock now read a quarter past ten.
“Charmaine?” Wiggy said. “Why don’t you make us all some coffee?”
WILL STRUTHERS didn’t call the bank until ten-twenty that morning. As a former bank employee himself, he knew there was always an early-morning rush of customers, and he suspected Antonia Belandres would have been particularly busy until now, it being the start of the big New Year’s Eve weekend and all.
“Miss Belandres,” she said.
The “Miss” pleased Will. It meant a) she was single, and b) she wasn’t one of these damn feminists who called themselves “Ms.” and aspired to pee in men’s rooms.
“Hello, Miss Belandres,” he said, “this is Will Struthers.”
“Lieutenant Struthers!” she said, sounding enormously surprised. “Howare you?”
“Fine, thank you,” Will said, not bothering to correct her. “And you?”
“Busy, busy, busy,” she said. “We close at noon today, and it’s been bedlam.”
“I know just how it is,” Will said.
“I know you do,” she said. “So tell me, are you looking forward to the new year?”
“Actually, I never have liked New Year’s Eve,” he said. “It always seems like a big disappointment to me. I don’t know why.”
“I feel exactly the same way.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I’ve been to small parties and big ones, I’ve stayed home and I’ve gone to night clubs, and it’s always the same thing. A big buildup to an even bigger letdown.”
“Gee,” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
There was a short silence.
“Miss Belandres …” he said.
“Antonia,” she said.
“Antonia,” he said. “I know this is short notice …”
Silence again. He could hear her breathing on the other end of the line.
“But I was …ah … wondering …”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“If you don’t … ah … have any other plans …”
“Yes?”
“Do you think you might care to have dinner with me tonight?”
“Why, I think that would be lovely,” she said.
“Good,” he said at once. “Good. Does seven o’clock sound convenient to you?”
“Seven o’clock sounds lovely.”
“Do you like Italian food?”
“I love Italian food.”
“Seven o’clock then, good,” he said. “Good. Where shall I pick you up?”
“It’s 347 South Shelby, apartment 12C.”
“I’ll be there at seven on the dorothy,” he said.
“I’ll be waiting,” she said.
He was thinking, Antonia, you and me are going to be millionaires.
“THIS IS CLARENDON HALL,” Mahmoud said.
Nikmaddu wished the man’s little mustache didn’t make him look as if he were constantly smiling. This was a serious matter here.
“Jassim will be sitting here, in row F in the center section.”
Jassim of the dirty fingernails and no smile nodded. He was familiar with the seating plan, knew exactly what he was to do tomorrow night.
“Seat number 101 on the aisle,” Mahmoud said.
Nikmaddu looked at the plan more closely.
“If we’re lucky,” Mahmoud said, “the explosion will carry to the stage. If not, we will have made our point, anyway.”
“Killing the Jew is not the point, you understand,” Akbar said. The desert camel driver, deep creases on his brown face, thick veins on the backs of his strong hands. Their demolitions expert. “We are teaching them that we can strike anywhere, anytime. We are telling them that they are completely vulnerable. Unless they wish to strip-search every American entering a theater, a movie house, a concert hall, a restaurant, a coffee shop, a supermarket, anywhere. They are at our mercy, is what we will be proving to them tomorrow night.”
“Still, getting the Jew would be a bonus,” Jassim said.
“But not apriority,” Akbar insisted. “If we get the Jew, fine. If not, many others will die. Our point will be made.”
“To die for Allah would be an honor,” Jassim said. He was the one going in with the bomb. By rights, he should have the last word. But Akbar had fashioned the bomb and the timing device.