At one point, Bellweather bragged to Jack that CG had a highly respected specialist in such matters, a magician who could make money disappear off the corporate books, then reappear in politicians’ pockets without a trace of its source.

Jack was too amazed to be shocked. They made it look so easy. No, it was easy. In only a few short hours Bellweather and Haggar had bagged two of the Hill’s most powerful legislators and arranged the almost certain sabotage of their most threatening competitors. At the bargain price of only twenty million bucks, they would rake in billions. So little capital for such a mammoth gain.

After a moment of tense quiet, Eva put her hand on Jack’s. “If I’ve gotten too personal, Jack, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried, about you.”

“Why should you?”

“Because I like you.”

“I mean, why worry?”

“This town is rough, maybe rougher than you think. Don’t let the smiles and backslaps lull you. You might be getting in over your head.”

Jack smiled. “In New York people cross the street when they see me coming.”

“Do they?”

“There are warning signs all over the city-watch out for big bad Jack. Mothers threaten their kids to be good or Jack will get you.”

“Oh, you’re that Jack.” Eva pretended to recoil back in her seat. After a moment she said, “Look, I’m sure you’re a terror to behold, up there. This is a different world, with different kinds of players.”

“Do you think they’re trying to hurt me or set me up?”

“I didn’t say that. No. As long as your interests are aligned with theirs you should be fine. It’s just that I care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Eva, this country prints billionaires like postage stamps. Why shouldn’t I be one? Besides, this polymer will save the lives of hundreds or thousands of soldiers. If we have to cut a few corners to get it into the field, so what?”

“Be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I’ll start wearing body armor tomorrow, thank you.”

“And I’m offering my services,” Eva added, gripping his hand a little tighter. “I know these people, Jack. They’re sharks. Confide in me and I can help.”

“If I need a watchdog, you’ll be the first one I call,” Jack promised vaguely, but not the least bit unfriendly.

The movie was even worse than its reviews.

14

Morgan took an anxious step out of the cab and onto the curb at the corner of 10th Avenue and 53rd Street. He checked his watch-7:20 p.m. right on time. Charles had been abrupt and very demanding on the phone. Arrive by taxi, Morgan was told in a tone that brooked no objections. Don’t be a minute late. Come alone; no trailers, no wires, no funny business.

If Charles so much as suspected his instructions weren’t being obeyed to the letter, Morgan could stand on the street corner till the cocks crowed. Charles swore he would disappear, not to be heard from again.

Rivers and Nickels, the TFAC reinforcements, had landed as scheduled on the four o’clock shuttle at LaGuardia. They arrived hauling a briefcase stuffed with cash as well as a stern reminder from O’Neal not to screw this up. Martinelli and Tanner, the two snoops who had spent the past three weeks trolling the Wall Street firms, were also ordered to assist.

Five men. Four highly trained former government agents to back up Morgan, four hardened pros to make sure they learned a little more about Charles and his fabulous claims.

Morgan drew up the plan. It was well thought out. There were no objections from the other four. The idea was to trail Charles after the meeting, or, barring that, get a usable fingerprint, or at the very least a few good photos. Somehow, whatever it took, they needed to learn his real identity and the nature of his relationship to Jack.

The four backups were littered around the surrounding streets in a variety of poses and disguises. They arrived an hour early and picked out their positions with exacting care. Martinelli and Tanner were parked in separate cars, idling nearby, waiting to punch the gas and follow; Rivers and Nickels would trail on foot, wherever Charles led them.

Despite the hard warning from Charles, Morgan was wired and ready to broadcast.

For two full minutes Morgan stood on the corner alone, trying to appear relaxed and guileless as he pretended to watch the traffic. Out of the blue, he felt a light tap on his back, and when he turned around Charles was there, grinning. Morgan quickly put two and two together-evidently Charles had been waiting in a nearby store, marking time and watching until Morgan showed.

“Did you come alone?” Charles asked predictably.

“Yes, just me,” he lied.

“Are you wired?”

“No, I swear.”

“You’re lying.”

“Check me if you like,” Morgan offered with a smug smirk as he held out his arms and spun around. I mean it, go ahead, search as long and hard as you like, he said to himself. The bug was state of the art, very tiny, encased in a button in his coat; it wouldn’t activate until he squeezed it. The newest thing, totally dormant and undetectable by a wand or any known electronic detector until he chose to turn it on. That would come later.

“Doesn’t matter,” Charles said with a nonchalant shrug. “Come on. Walk beside me.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“I have the money, Charles.” He held up the case for inspection. “It’s all here, fifty thou in cash.”

“Good for you. Now we have something to talk about.” Charles was already walking, so Morgan took off after him.

“Well, I’m here, so why don’t you start talking now?” Morgan asked, very sociably. It was an old ploy, one taught to all the scrubs in the Agency school in Virginia-divert the prey’s mind and get his attention away from the environment and the trackers. They were side by side now, moving slowly, a casual stroll. A cripple could follow them at this pace.

“Relax, Morgan. It’s worth the wait, I promise you.”

“I’m just wondering why you’re so paranoid.”

“I have my reasons. Believe me, they’re good ones.”

“All this secrecy and clandestine crap, why can’t we talk without all this cloak-and-dagger?”

This question seemed to get on his nerves. “Maybe you don’t know Jack as well as you think you do.”

They turned right and headed toward the narrower streets of the theater district. The crowds were growing thicker but Charles hadn’t tried any funny business yet. Morgan wore a yellow windbreaker so loud it virtually glowed in the dark, another trick he’d learned in his years as a spook. In the densest mob, in the dead of night, he’d be impossible to misplace. “Jack’s harmless,” Morgan insisted after a long moment. “We’ve seen nothing to indicate any problems.”

“You checked his Army record?” Charles asked with an amused grin.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Uh-huh. What did it say?”

“Clean as a whistle. War hero, loved by his troops, admired by one and all.”

For some reason this brought a condescending chuckle from Charles and a nasty side glance. “You guys aren’t as good as I thought.”

“Look, pal, we got his official record.”

“No, you got his unclassified file,” Charles said sharply. “There’s another record, the real one. The Army calls it a classified fiche.”

Through his CIA service Morgan was familiar with them. “What was he, a special ops cowboy or something?”

“In fact Jack was Delta. Everything’s smoke and mirrors with those people.”

Morgan had no idea whether this was true. “Can you prove that?”

“I know it, okay? Point is, Jack can kill you with a toothpick. He can get into and out of Baghdad, in wartime, without being detected. He did that, you know.”

“Uh, no, we-”

“And check his record from Panama. He hunted down Noriega. It was Jack who kept him from escaping, chased him into the Vatican embassy.”