“Were you one of the people the CIA satellite saw?”
Jacob answered with one of his token sour looks. Before they parted, he handed Stone a phone number. “Contact me if you hear anything,” Jacob said. “Contact me if you don’t.”
The nurse came out on the deck and told Stone it was his turn to be checked. “Your friend Sandra Harrington will need X-rays,” she said. “We’re worried about her. She’s on the way to the clinic.”
Lange came out of the bedroom being used as an examining room. “Thanks for having your people look me over. No broken bones, just this eye, which they advised I have a specialist look at.” He bit his lip. “Worried about Sandra. She may have a cracked rib or two.”
Stone found Lange’s concern for Sandra annoying. “Suppose you’ll report back to your service,” he said. “I wonder how they’ll react when you tell them what you’ve been up to.” “I’ve been informed that your embassy has notified my government about the bomb. Officials in Pretoria must be in turmoil. Can you imagine when they hear that one of their nuclear bombs was stolen? And by a leading member of the white community? They’ll want to know why I didn’t inform them about our trip to Namibia.”
“So they didn’t know anything about Van Wartt or Abdul Wahab? They had no idea what they were up to?”
“Not exactly. Let’s just say our intelligence services are covering their activities.”
Stone decided to remain silent. Let Lange reveal as much as he thought he could.
Lange touched his swollen eye. “My home office is in disarray. I’ve been telling the friends I trust about what’s been happening. My service may be taken over by the politicos, the crowd who made up the ANC’s infamous secret service, Mbokodo, during apartheid. If the politicos take over, my friends and I are out of work.” He laughed. “Lack of job security, as you Yanks would say.”
“Stay in touch,” Stone said. “We might put you on our rolls.”
“Two things before I go. I … we’ve come up with some information that may help in knowing where that plane is headed.” Lange sat on the edge of a folding chair. Stone did likewise. “Nabeel Asuty went to Abdul Wahab’s villa immediately after Sandra shot her former, uh, friend, Farley Durrell.”
Interesting. Did Dirk see Farley as a rival? Things were close between Lange and Sandra, and he didn’t quite approve.
Lange continued, “Asuty told Wahab that Farley was an infiltrator. They planned to kill him, but his plans were thwarted when gunfire erupted on the Victoria and Alfred pier. When Farley got shot in the leg.”
“Really?” Stone leaned back on the doorjamb. Sounds like they listened in on the conversation. Should have known the South Africans had a bug or an informant in Wahab’s villa.
“I remember one bit of interesting information. A mention was made that Farley was working with some shipping company in Cameroon. Douala, I believe.”
“Douala is north on the way to Libya.” Stone said.
“Exactly. No doubt, the CIA analysts debriefed Farley before they sent him back to the States.”
“It’s worth checking.”
Lange leaned forward. “The second matter involves Sandra and me.” He looked down. “We’re fond of each other. We both know this may cause problems with her employers and mine. I’m sure both organizations will take a hard look at our relationship.”
“This comes as a complete surprise to me,” Stone said with a straight face.
“Do you have problems with me being involved with Sandra? I mean, have you ever had ideas about her …?”
Stone took his time in answering. “Dirk. Sandra and I are business partners. We work well together. We like each other, but more important, we trust each other. When I was in the FBI, at times you needed a partner, and if you were lucky, they were good like Sandra. If so, you could count on them and they could count on you, especially when crunch time came. Adding romance to the equation brings complications.”
“Thanks. That’s a relief.” Lange got up and they shook hands.
Stone watched Lange carry out his gear and get in a car with a CIA staffer. He hoped Sandra wasn’t getting herself into another romantic mess. More than that, he resented Lange moving in on Sandra. What would that do to his relationship with her? Nothing positive. From the window, Stone watched the car depart for Cape Town.
He found the doctor waiting in the room — a man with a Pakistani accent. As Stone suspected, he had no broken bones and didn’t need stitches for the two gashes in his scalp. The doctor handed him a bottle of pills for his headaches. The pain came from a slight concussion, he was told.
One of the CIA technicians looked in the door and said, “Colonel Frederick wants to speak with you … on the computer.”
Stone went to the communications room and sat before a laptop. The last message on the screen read:
Get me Stone. NOW.
Fredrick was still pissed. He would have to be diplomatic. He typed:
Hi, Colonel. We all made it back. Sandra is having her ribs x-rayed for fractures. Dirk’s eye may give him problems. I’ve a concussion. Any leads on the plane?
Stone waited for over five minutes. Frederick responded, and Stone watched the letters form into words across the screen.
The plane with the package you let get out of your hands is somewhere over the Congo River. What did Jacob say? Did he have anything important to give us?
Stone let out a whistle. Frederick’s anger bounced from the computer screen. Couldn’t exactly blame him.
Plan to meet with Jacob later today. Confident he will have something of value to give us.
A few minutes passed.
Stone. My confidence in you is very low today. Give me something.
What Lange said about the meeting of Asuty at Wahab’s villa came to mind. Not much, but it was something.
Reason to believe Farley Durrell was working at a shipping company in Douala, Cameroon, before Asuty learned he was an informant. Did anyone look at Durrell’s debrief after he left?
Another two-minute pause before Frederick responded.
We will look into that when we have time.
Stone typed quickly.
I can do it. What about Abdul Wahab? He may know where they are going. He may be receptive if the approach is right.
The answer came quick.
No, on both suggestions. Out.
Stone stared at the screen. It appeared Colonel Frederick no longer required his services. The colonel could be difficult at times. No matter. Stone would ignore him. He’d continue on the case. Colonel Frederick would have to accept it.
He left the computer and took a throwaway cell phone from his jacket pocket. At the ambassador’s function, Lucinda had given him her telephone number. She answered on the third ring.
“Hi, Lucinda. I’m back.”
She immediately responded. “Oh good. I hoped you would not be gone long.” Noise came over the phone as if she dropped something.
“I’d like to see you tonight,” he said. He told her he was out of town but planned to be in the city later that day. “What hotel are you staying in?”
“I am Patience’s guest at her apartment in Newlands,” she said. “Where are you staying?”
“I have to find a room.”
A long pause. “Patience is staying with a friend overnight. I don’t think she’d mind you staying here.” Another pause. “In fact, I know she wouldn’t. You and I have a lot to talk about.”
Ringing off, Stone wondered what Lucinda wanted to “talk” about? However, Jacob was next on his call list. Surely the Mossad agent had come up with something from his many sources. What his friend learned could prove crucial in finding the nuclear bomb. Time was running out. Jacob answered on the first ring.