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“About an hour from our destination, I would guess. You have slept a very long time.”
“What is our destination?”
“France.”
“I’ve never been to France,” I said. “I don’t have a visa or a passport or anything.”
“That will not matter.”
“Is Mogart in France now?”
He shook his head. “I do not know. It appears Mogart has offered to sell the sword to OIPEP itself. OIPEP operates a safe house in France, where we will wait for Mogart’s final instructions on the delivery of the cash.”
“Bennacio, it’s none of my business, but whose plane is this? Who’s that guy Mike?”
“Surely you have guessed the answer by now, Kropp.”
He reached into his breast pocket and handed me the same business card he had showed the guard at the border. Mike Arnold’s name was on the card. Above the name was the acronym, in bold type, OIPEP. There was an 800 number beneath Mike’s name.
“Bennacio, are you ever going to tell me what OIPEP is?”
He smiled at me. “What do you think it is?”
“Mr. Samson said it was some kind of supersecret spy outfit. You don’t trust them, do you?”
“I do not trust outsiders to resist the temptation of obtaining the ultimate weapon.”
“So that’s the deal? Mogart’s offering the Sword to OIPEP?”
“Perhaps.”
“You seem awful calm about it, Bennacio.”
“I am a man of faith, Alfred.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There is a purpose to all things.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I don’t get it.”
“Not many do, when the test comes.”
“I think I failed that test.”
“Do you? Perhaps you have. Yet it is also possible that the true test has not yet come. Who can say? I have given much thought to your words in Halifax. Indeed, Samson did think it important you knew of our fall.”
“Maybe he just wanted me to know what a mess I made of everything.”
“Have you learned so little of us, Kropp, that you would believe such a thing? This mess, as you say, does not belong to you, any more than it belongs to me. Do not concern yourself so much with guilt and grief, Alfred. No battle was ever won, no great deed ever accomplished, by wallowing in guilt and grief.”
He patted my hand and stood up. “Excuse me, I must speak with Mr. Arnold for a moment.”
He disappeared into the cockpit. I yawned. I looked out the little window and saw nothing but a lot of sky, a lot of water, and something glinting in the fading sunlight off our wing. Probably an F-16. I yawned again. I had slept for hours and I still felt sleepy.
Bennacio was gone a long time. When he came back he was smiling.
“What?” I asked.
