Type of thing he’d usually have Ringwald set up, but until he got a new shyster on the payroll, he’d have to use what he had. Took out his cell, called Franco. Franco was solid.

“I need you on a plane to Kansas City,” Corsco said. “I want the Eagle on Fenn.”

Franco didn’t say anything for a second, which Corsco understood. The Eagle made people nervous.

“What kind of number can I give?” Franco finally asked. This was no time to be cheap. First of all, there weren’t a lot of hits, not in real life. Hit men were a movie thing. In the mob, mostly they were favors. Sure, you had some guys with the stomach for it, so maybe you used them more than others; maybe they got a little rep. But you didn’t have these shoot-the-balls-off-a-gnat, karate-master ninjas who charged six figures a pop that you saw in the movies.

You just had the Eagle. And the Eagle wasn’t cheap.

“Whatever it takes,” said Corsco. “But this has to be fast, a day, maybe two. Or no deal.”

CHAPTER 67

Munroe slid his keycard into the door to his suite at the Hilton. Had to make some calls, check some e-mails.

As he stepped past the short wall that blocked off the bathroom and the closet from the rest of the suite, he saw Husam al Din sitting in the easy chair by the window, a silenced automatic steady in his lap. When a second passed and al Din hadn’t shot him yet, Munroe exhaled. Must be here to talk. Or at least to talk first.

“If you would please remove your weapon, release the clip and then pull back the slide,” said al Din.

Munroe took out his 9mm, dropped the clip and then jacked the round out of the chamber.

“Drop it in the trash can please,” al Din said. Munroe did.

“And the backup,” al Din said. “Inside of your left ankle, if my memory serves.”

Munroe bent over, pulled out the .32, went through the same routine.

Al Din nodded toward the desk. Munroe saw the extra Beretta that he kept in the nightstand broken down on the blotter.

“My intentions are not hostile,” said al Din, “but I thought our conversation might go more smoothly if you weren’t focused on getting to one of your backup weapons during our conversation.”

“Swell,” said Munroe. “You mind if I take a piss first?”

“Be my guest. But I have also removed the weapon you had taped under the sink.”

Munroe shrugged. “It was worth a shot. Still gotta piss though. At my age, my bladder doesn’t handle having guns pointed at me as well as it used to.”

Al Din gestured toward the bathroom with the pistol. Munroe went to the john, came back, spun the desk chair around to face al Din and took a seat.

“Enjoying Chicago?” Munroe asked. “Tried the pizza? Lots of good Italian joints out near the United Center.”

Al Din smiled. “I wanted to talk about the boogeyman. Isn’t that what Bin Laden used to be? The Boogeyman?”

“Boogeyman?”

“Did I use the term incorrectly?”

Munroe shook his head. “Just caught me by surprise. No, you used it perfectly. Guy’s been dead a while now, though. Why the sudden interest?”

“I’m afraid someone else might be planning on making me your new one,” said al Din.

Munroe snorted. “You’re good, buddy, but you’re getting kind of a big head, aren’t you? You’re not exactly a household name. A boogeyman has to be someone we can shake at the voters when we need to give them a good scare, has to be a known entity. You’re under the radar. And I thought you liked it that way.”

“That may be about to change.”

Munroe paused, considered that information. “So you guys were moving the diamonds for a reason. And you’re still in town, so that reason is local.”

Al Din nodded.

“Anything you care to talk about?”

Al Din shrugged. “I thought first we could discuss the elasticity of loyalties.”

“One of my favorite subjects,” said Munroe. “Getting a little disenchanted with Sandland? Looking for an upgrade?”

“To paraphrase your American saying about baseball, terrorism has been very, very good to me. But I’m not sure that retirement in Waziristan is to my tastes. One of the dangers of operating in the West, I suppose, the seduction of comforts. The women, the food, the liquor.”

“How you gonna keep ’em down on the farm once they’ve seen Par-ee? It’s our secret weapon. We pretty much brought down the Soviet Union with blue jeans. So, you’re looking to deal?”

“Let’s call this an exploratory meeting. I’m wondering if a deal is possible. I’ve already killed several Americans on your soil this week, and we both know they aren’t my first.”

“Blood under the bridge, old sport. You got a few things in your favor. First, there are maybe ten other people in the country who’ve seen your whole resume, and they’re all pretty pragmatic guys. The shit this week? Maybe your name’s been bandied about some, but it’s nothing we could take to court.”

“I’m not worried about court,” al Din said. “I’m worried about SEAL Team Six.”

“That’s my dog. It doesn’t bite unless I tell it to.”

“And Mossad? Do you hold their leash, too?”

Munroe smiled. “The Israelis can be a little intransigent, can’t they? But what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“There’s not much they don’t know.”

“Yeah, but they’re willing to pretend they don’t know a lot of shit, as long as we keep sending them a few billion dollars of aid every year. I wouldn’t plan on vacationing in Jerusalem, but as long as you don’t go rubbing their nose in anything, we can reach an accommodation.”

“I’ve already been to Jerusalem,” said al Din.

“I know. Off the ol’ bucket list, eh? So, you ready to talk turkey?”

“Talk turkey? This phrase I do not know.”

“Cut to the chase, get down to business. If you’re looking to switch teams, then I’m gonna need some details.”

“Let’s say I’m ready to explore free agency. As I understand your American sports, switching teams comes down to money.”

“Yeah,” said Munroe. “And we’re the Yankees. We got more money than the rest of the league put together. Plus, if you’ve been studying free agency, you’ve heard of collusion. You start trying to get a bidding war going, we’re going to whisper in a few ears and dry up your market. You deal with us or you don’t deal with anybody. So unless someone from the farm team over in Tehran has put a big number on the table, you’re not in a great negotiating position.”

“The diamonds are worth $150 million. Hardin was looking to deal with Stein, so I suspect he’s now looking to deal with you. Ten percent on Hardin’s end, I imagine. Fifteen million dollars. I’ll take that.”

Munroe shrugged. “Hardin’s already offered us the diamonds. And he actually has them. We pay him, we get to turn those around anyway we want and we come out way ahead on the deal. You don’t have any diamonds.”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe not ever.”

“True. But I have something more valuable. I have what the diamonds were paying for. Your media tells me America has spent nearly $4 trillion to avenge the three thousand killed on 9/11. How much will it have to spend to avenge ten times that many? Or twenty? Or more? And how much cheaper would it be to spend a fraction of that amount now to prevent those deaths? And to be able to bring to justice those who planned them?”

Munroe just watched for a moment, tried to read al Din’s face, but he got nothing.

“We’d spend a pretty penny,” he said. “But we’d need some proof.”

Al Din smiled, nodded, sat quietly for a minute, then stood up. “I imagined so. Now that I know an accommodation is possible, I will provide some.”

Al Din pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “I will call you on this when I am ready. Now, if you will turn the chair to the desk please, I’m afraid I need to take a minor precaution before I leave.”

Munroe turned the chair around, heard al Din close in behind him, thought for a second about making some kind of move, then thought again. Even when he was a kid, he hadn’t been in al Din’s league, not at the rough stuff.