"I guess it is," Dortmunder said.
"It's really too bad he's already married."
"These things happen," Dortmunder said. "Thanks again."
"Any time we can be of service, sir."
Dortmunder hung up and said to Chefwick, "Air France to Paris." He got to his feet. "Help me drag that bird around here behind the desk. We don't want anybody finding him and letting him go so he can call the Major at Kennedy."
They toted the ebony man around behind the desk and left the embassy without seeing anyone else. Greenwood was still loafing around out front, leaning against the iron railing. He fell in with them, and Dortmunder told him what they'd learned as they walked back to the corner and across the street to where Murch was sitting in the phone booth. There Dortmunder said, "Chefwick, you stay here. When Kelp calls, tell him we're on our way and he can leave a message for us at Air France. If they've gone someplace other than Kennedy, you wait here, and when we don't get any message at Air France we'll call you."
Chefwick nodded. "That's fine," he said.
"We'll all meet at the O. J. when this is over," Dortmunder said. "In case we get separated, that's where we'll meet."
"This may be a late night," Chefwick said. "I'd best call Maude."
"Don't tie up that phone."
"Oh, I won't. Good luck."
"Wouldn't that be nice," Dortmunder said. "Come on, Murch, let's see how fast you can get us to Kennedy Airport."
"Well, from here," Murch said, as they trotted across the street toward his car, "I'm going to go straight up FDR Drive to the Triborough ..."
5
The girl at the Air France counter had a French accent. "Mister Dortmun-dair?" she said. "Yes, I have a message for you." She handed over a small envelope.
"Thank you," Dortmunder said, and he and Greenwood moved away from the counter. Murch was out parking the car. Dortmunder opened the envelope and inside was a small piece of paper containing the scrawled words "Golden Door."
Dortmunder turned the paper over, and the other side was blank. He turned it back and it still said "Golden Door." That's all, just "Golden Door." "I needed this," Dortmunder said.
"Just a minute," Greenwood said and walked over to the nearest passing stewardess, a pretty short-haired blonde in a dark blue uniform. "Excuse me," Greenwood said, "will you marry me?"
"I'd love to," she said, "but my plane leaves in twenty minutes."
"When you come back," Greenwood said. "In the meantime, could you tell me what and where is the Golden Door?"
"Oh, that's the restaurant in the International Arrivals Building."
"Lovely. When can we have dinner there?"
"Oh, the next time you're in town," she said.
"Wonderful," he said. "When will that be?"
"Don't you know?"
"Not yet. When do you get back?"
"Monday," she said, smiling. "We come in at three-thirty in the afternoon."
"A perfect time for dinner. Shall we make it four?"
"Make it four-thirty."
"Four-thirty Monday, at the Golden Door. I'll reserve the table immediately. Under the name of Grofield," he said, giving his most recent name.
"I'll be there," she said. She had a lovely smile and lovely teeth.
"See you then," Greenwood said and went back over to Dortmunder. "It's a restaurant, in the International Arrivals Building."
"Come on."
They went outside, and met Murch on his way in. They brought him up to date, asked a luggage handler to point out the International Arrivals Building, and took the bus over.
The Golden Door is upstairs, at the head of a long broad escalator. At the foot of it stood Kelp. Dortmunder and the other two went over, and Kelp said, "They're up there feeding their faces."
"They're taking the seven-fifteen Air France flight to Paris," Dortmunder said.
Kelp blinked at him. "How'd you do that?"
"Telepathy," Greenwood said. "My stunt is, I guess your weight."
"Let's go up," Dortmunder said.
"I'm not dressed to go up to a place like that," Murch said. He was in a leather jacket and work pants, while the other three were all in suits or sport jackets and ties.
Dortmunder said to Kelp, "Any other way down out of there?"
"Probably. This is the only public way."
"Okay. Murch, you stay down here in case they get through us. If they do, follow them but don't try anything on your own. Kelp, is Chefwick still in the phone booth?"
"No, he said he was going to the O. J. We can leave messages there now."
"Fine. Murch, if somebody comes down and you follow him, leave us a message at the O. J. as soon as you can."
"Right."
The other three rode the escalator upstairs, emerging on a dark carpet in a dark open area. The maitre d's lectern, some doweling, and a lot of artificial plants separated this area from the main dining room. The maitre d' himself, armed with a French accent less charming than the young lady's at Air France, approached and asked them how many they were. Dortmunder said, "We'll wait for the rest of our party before going in."
"Certainly, sir." The maitre d' bowed himself away.
Kelp said, "There they are."
Dortmunder looked through the plastic leaves. The dining room was large, and very nearly empty. At a table in the middle distance, beside a window, sat Major Iko and Prosker and three sturdy young black men. They were having a leisurely dinner, the time now being just a little past five, with over two hours left before their flight.
Kelp said, "I don't like bracing them here. Too public, and too boxed in."
"I agree," Dortmunder said. "All right, we'll wait for them downstairs." He turned and started away.
Greenwood said, "I'll be with you in a minute. Private business."
Dortmunder and Kelp went on ahead, and a minute later Greenwood caught up with them. They filled Murch in, and then the four of them spread out around the waiting room, all keeping their eyes on the escalator to the Golden Door.
It was nearly six o'clock, and afternoon had turned to night outside the terminal's windows when the Major and Prosker and the other three finally came down from dinner. Dortmunder immediately got to his feet and walked toward them. When they saw him, and were still staring in astonishment, he put a big smile on his face, stuck his hand out, and advanced quickly, crying, "Major! What a surprise! It's great to see you again!"
He had reached the group by now, and he grasped the Major's limp hand and started to pump it. Keeping the big smile on his face, he said softly, "The others are all around. If you don't want shooting, just stand still."
Prosker had already been looking around, and now he said, "By God, there they are!"
"Dortmunder," the Major said, "I'm sure we can talk this over."
"You're damn right we can," Dortmunder said. "Just the two of us. No lawyers, no bodyguards."
"You wouldn't get - violent."
"Not me, Major," Dortmunder said. "But I don't know about the others. Greenwood would shoot down Prosker first, that's only natural, but I think Kelp would go first for you."
Prosker said, "You wouldn't dare start anything like that in a crowded place like this."
"Perfect place for it," Dortmunder said. "Shooting. Panic. We mix in with everybody else. Easiest place in the world to hide is in a crowd."
The Major said, "Prosker, don't try to make him prove himself, it has the ring of truth."
"So it does, damn it," said Prosker. "All right, Dortmunder, what do you want? More money?"
"We can't afford a hundred seventy-five thousand," the Major said. "It just wouldn't be possible."
"Two hundred thousand," Dortmunder reminded him. "The price went up back at caper number three. But I don't want to talk in front of all these other people. Come on."
"Come on? Come on where?"
"We're just going to talk," Dortmunder said. "These people can stand here, and my people will stay where they are, and you and me are going over there and talk. Come on."
The Major was very reluctant, but Dortmunder was insistent, and finally the Major started to move. Dortmunder said to the others over his shoulder, "Just stay right here, and you won't start any posthumous panics."