Finished, he drove to Washington National Airport, where he caught a flight to Miami. There was a three-hour layover until he took another airplane to Mexico City. Miller was waiting for him in the proper hotel.
"Hello, Sean."
"Hello, Alex. Drink?"
"What do you have?"
"Well, I brought a bottle of decent whiskey, or you can have some of the local stuff. The beer isn't bad, but I personally stop short of drinking something with a worm in the bottle."
Alex selected a beer. He didn't bother with a glass.
"So?"
Dobbens drained the beer in one long pull. It was good to be able to relax—really relax. Play-acting all the time at home could be a strain. "I got the safehouse all set up. Did that this morning. It'll do fine for what we want. What about your people?"
"They're on the way. They'll arrive as planned."
Alex nodded approval as he got a second beer. "Okay, let's see how the operation's going to run."
"In a very real sense, Alex, you inspired this." Miller opened his briefcase and extracted the maps and charts. They went on the coffee table. Alex didn't smile. Miller was trying to stroke him, and Dobbens didn't like being stroked. He listened for twenty minutes.
"Not bad, that's pretty fair, but you're going to have to change a few things."
"What?" Miller asked. He was already angered by Dobbens' tone.
"Look, man, there's going to be at least fifteen security guys right here." Alex tapped the map. "And you're going to have to do them right quick, y'know? We're not talking street cops here. These guys are trained and well armed. They're not exactly dumb, either. If you want this to work, man, you have to land the first punch harder. Your timing is off some, too. No, we have to tighten this up some, Sean."
"But they'll be in the wrong place!" Miller objected as dispassionately as he could manage.
"And you want them to be running around loose? No way, boy! You'd better think about taking them out in the first ten seconds. Hey, think of them as soldiers. This ain't no snatch-and-run job. We're talking combat here."
"But if the security is going to be as tight as you say—"
"I can handle that, man. Don't you pay attention to what I'm doing? I can put your shooters in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time."
"And how the hell will you do that!" Miller was unable to calm himself anymore. There was just something about Alex that set him off.
"It's easy, man." Dobbens smiled. He enjoyed showing this hotshot how things were done. "All you gotta do…"
"And you really think you can get past them just like that!" Miller snapped after he finished.
"Easy. I can write my own work orders, remember?"
Miller struggled with himself again, and this time he won. He told himself to view Alex's idea dispassionately. He hated admitting to himself that the plan made sense. This amateur black was telling him how to run an op, and the fact that he was right just made it worse.
"Hey, man, it's not just better, it's easier to do." Alex backed off somewhat. Even arrogant whities needed their pride. This boy was used to having his own way. He was smart enough, Dobbens admitted to himself, but too inflexible. Once he got himself set on an idea, he didn't want to change a thing. He never would have made a good engineer, Alex knew. "Remember the last op we ran for you? Trust me, man. I was right then, wasn't I?"
For all his technical expertise, Alex did not have tremendous skills for handling people. This last remark almost set Miller off again, but the Irishman took a deep breath as he continued to stare at the map. Now I know why the Yanks love their niggers so much.
"Let me think about it."
"Sure. Tell you what. I'm going to get some sleep. You can pray over the map all you want."
"Who else besides the security and the targets?"
Alex stretched. "Maybe they're going to cater it. Hell—I don't know. I imagine they'll have their maid. I mean, you don't have that kind of company without one servant, right? She doesn't get hurt either, man. She's a sister, handsome woman. And remember what I said about the lady and the kid. If it's necessary, I can live with it, but if you pop 'em for fun, Sean, you'll answer to me. Let's try to keep this one professional. You have three legitimate political targets. That's enough. The rest are bargaining chips, we can use 'em to show good will. That might not be important to you, boy, but it's fucking well important to me. You dig?"
"Very well, Alex." Sean decided then and there that Alex would not see the end of this operation. It shouldn't be too hard to arrange. With his absurd sentimentality, he was unfit to be a revolutionary. You'll die a brave death. At least we can make a martyr of you.
Two hours later Miller admitted to himself that this was unfortunate. The man did have a flair for operations.
The security people were late enough that Ryan pulled into the driveway right behind them. There were three of them, led by Chuck Avery of the Secret Service.
"Sorry, we got held up," Avery said as he shook hands. "This is Bert Longley and Mike Keaton, two of our British colleagues."
"Hello, Mr. Longley," Cathy called from the door.
His eyes went wide as he saw her condition. "My goodness, perhaps we should bring a physician in with us! I'd no idea you were so far along."
"Well, this one will be part English." Jack explained. "Come on in."
"Mr. Longley arranged our escort when you were in the hospital," Cathy told her husband. "Nice to see you again."
"How are you feeling?" Longley asked.
"A little tired, but okay," Cathy allowed.
"Have you cleared the problem about Robby?" Jack asked.
"Yes, we have. Please excuse Mr. Bennett. I'm afraid he took his instructions a bit too literally. We have no problems with a naval officer. In fact, His Highness is looking forward to meeting him. So, may we look around?"
"If it's all right with you, I want to see that cliff of yours," Avery said.
"Follow me, gentlemen." Jack led the three through the sliding-glass doors onto the deck that faced Chesapeake Bay.
"Magnificent!" Longley observed.
"The only thing we did wrong is that the living and dining room aren't separated, but that's how the design was drawn, and we couldn't figure a graceful way to change it. But all those windows do give us a nice view, don't they?"
"Indeed, also one that gives our chaps good visibility," Keaton observed, surveying the area.
Not to mention decent fields of fire, Ryan thought.
"How many people will you be bringing?" Jack asked.
"I'm afraid that's not something we can discuss," Longley replied.
"More than twenty?" Jack persisted. "I plan to have coffee and sandwiches for your troops. Don't worry, I haven't even told Robby."
"Enough for twenty will be more than ample," Avery said after a moment. "Just coffee will be fine." They'd be drinking a lot of coffee, the Secret Service man thought.
"Okay, let's see the cliff." Jack went down the steps from the deck to the grass. "You want to be very careful here, gentlemen."
"How unstable is it?" Avery asked.
"Sally has been past where the fence is twice. Both times she got smacked for it. The problem's erosion. The cliff's made out of something real soft—sandstone, I think. I've been trying to stabilize it. The state conservation people talked me into planting this damned kudzu, and—stop right there!"
Keaton had stepped over the low fence.
"Two years ago I watched a twenty-square-foot piece drop off. That's why I planted these vines. You don't think somebody's going to climb that, do you?"
"It's one possibility," Longley answered.
"You'd think different if you looked at it from a boat. The cliff won't take the weight. A squirrel can make it up, but that's all."