To establish—and hopefully to go on improving—his great-grandfather’s archive, O’Farrell had written to still-existing newspapers throughout Kansas that had been publishing during the man’s lifetime and even wrote further afield, to papers in Colorado and Oklahoma. In addition he approached as many historical societies and museums as he could locate, asking them to publicize his on-going search for information about his ancestor in any newsletter or publication they issued.
By coincidence there were two responses within two weeks of his returning from Chicago. A historical society in Wichita said one of their researchers had come across references to a Charles O’Farrell as a teenage scout in a wagon train and asked if he were prepared to spend fifty dollars on a more specific investigation. O’Farrell replied at once that he was, enclosing his check.
An Amarillo dealer in early-American weaponry wrote saying that he was on the mailing list of every historical society in five nearby states. The man had a mint-condition Colt of the model and caliber he believed O’Farrell’s great-grandfather would have used. Did O’Farrell want to buy it to form part of his collection?
O’Farrell replied to that by return as well, politely rejecting the offer. Even before the manner of his parents’ death, he’d considered it unthinkable to have a gun in his house, even an antique from which the firing pin had probably been removed.
At church that weekend, O’Farrell prayed that Billy would be kept safe, knowing that Jill would be praying the same. Additionally O’Farrell prayed for himself, asking to be excused any more assignments. He was made uncomfortable by the reading, which was from St Luke: “Judge not and ye shall not be judged.”
SEVEN
IT HAD been Rivera’s father who’d been the sports fisherman, pursuing the blue marlin and the other big-game fish off the Keys and the Grand Bahama Bank. Rivera had fished, too, quite competently, but he’d never gotten the pleasure from it that the older man had. He’d learned the principles, of course; the use of the proper bait to catch the best fish. And carried that principle on. Which was why he’d initially, unquestioningly, advanced so much money to Belac, with the assurance that any additional personal expenditure would be instantly recompensed. And Belac had responded fishlike. But not like a marlin. Like a greedy, eat-all shark. His father had despised shark as game fish.
The unscheduled meeting was at Belac’s request. The arms dealer came confidently into the London embassy office and at once, proudly, announced, “I want you to see what I’ve achieved.” He produced a list but read from it himself. ‘Two hundred Kalashnikov rifles, with six thousand rounds of ammunition. One hundred Red Eye missiles and two hundred Stinger missiles. Three hundred assorted Czech handguns and three thousand rounds of matching ammunition. There are five hundred grenades and two hundred antipersonnel land mines.…” The man looked up, giving a self-satisfied smile. “And ten tanks. All en route, aboard ship, without the need to go through Japan or the Arab Emirates.” He smiled further. “Your original request only listed five armored personnel carriers. I have secured fifteen, if you wish to increase the order.” He’d already put down a deposit, from his own money again.
“I will check back with my people,” Rivera promised. By how much, he wondered, had Belac overextended himself?
“And not just that,” Belac continued briskly. “I have two thousand jungle-camouflaged uniforms and three thousand of the latest type of army boot. Also practically an unlimited supply of infantry matériel—webbing, field equipment, stuff like that.”
“Again, I’ll check.” Gently prompting, Rivera said, “What about the remaining tanks?”
“The auction is still to come,” the Belgian said. “I will be bidding, of course, through an agent.”
“And the electronic systems?” pressed the diplomat.
“I have already established through a Swiss anstalt the purchasing route with a company on the outskirts of Stockholm—”
Rivera refused him the escape. “We discussed the method at our first meeting.”
Belac nodded, in apparent recollection. “An order has been placed through Stockholm,” he assured. “Which brings us to the point of my coming here today—”
“Money?” cut in Rivera, again.
“The request is for a VAX-11/78,” Belac said, in another unnecessary reminder. “That’s the system employed within the U.S. Pentagon itself! It is going to be very expensive; maybe more than we first budgeted for.”
“It’s precisely because the VAX is the Pentagon system that we want it,” Rivera said.
“Expensive, like I said,” repeated Belac.
“How much?”
“I have committed a great deal of my own money, on the basis of our understanding,” Belac said generally. “I shall need another thirty-five million working capital at least.” He spoke as if the sum were unimportant. He looked at Rivera in open-faced, almost innocent expectancy.
Rivera smiled back just as innocently. “I am surprised at the need for such a large payment, so quickly after the first advance of thirty-five million.”
The arms dealer faltered, just slightly. He gestured toward the list between them and said, “I have just told you what has been purchased and shipped. Three vessels have had to be chartered. Commissions paid. Deposits made, for other material you want.”
“Like the VAX communication equipment?” Rivera persisted.
There was a further hesitation. “I may need the full time allowance there,” Belac conceded.
“Wouldn’t you agree that on my part I have been very generous in the agreement we have reached?”
“Yes,” Belac allowed doubtfully, unsure of the direction the ambassador was taking, but not liking it, whatever it was.
“Particularly in not insisting upon there being a penalty clause understood between us, in the event of nondelivery of any of the items you’ve guaranteed to supply,” Rivera continued, laying more bait.
“Yes,” Belac said again. The Cuban was performing for his own benefit. In what public court did the fool imagine suing to recover any penalty sum?
“I think one should be established,” Rivera announced. “Here, today.”
“What have you in mind?” Belac asked, tolerantly going along with the diplomat.
“A percentage,” Rivera said. In the excitement of the moment Rivera was unable precisely to calculate the additional, interest-earning profit to himself, through whom all funding had to flow and in whose account any withheld money would remain, if Belac failed to keep to his own established timetable.
“I don’t understand,” Belac complained, his complacency wavering.
“Our agreement was upon an expenditure of a hundred and fifty million?”
“Yes,” accepted Belac, fully alert now.
“Of which thirty-five million has already been advanced?”
“And spent,” Belac insisted at once. “Not only spent but greatly exceeded.”
“I propose there should be a ten-percent withholding upon all future advances, that sum to be paid as and when the articles for which it is committed are delivered.”