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“Until we’re told otherwise,” Hanley said.
“So the Corporation recovers the bomb,” Cabrillo said slowly, “and we let the Brits handle our meteorite. Seems backward.”
“Backward is all we have right now,” Hanley said.
ON THE RAIN-SOAKED deck of the ferry boat sailing from Goteborg, Sweden, to Newcastle upon Tyne, Roger Lassiter was speaking into a satellite telephone. Lassiter had worked for the CIA before being terminated a number of years before, after it had been discovered that vast amounts of funds had gone missing from accounts in the Philippines. The money was intended to be used for payoffs to the locals for information on Muslim terrorist groups operating in the southern provinces. Lassiter had lost the money gambling in a Hong Kong casino.
Once he had been fired, the CIA uncovered a few more facts. Lassiter was not above using unauthorized torture, misappropriating U.S. resources for his profit, or outright deceit and deception. Lassiter had operated in areas with little Langley control—and he had abused his privileges to the limits and beyond. There was also talk of him being a double agent for China, but once he had been fired, nothing was done.
Lassiter now resided in Switzerland, but he hired out to the highest bidder.
In Sweden, he’d stolen blueprints from a marine manufacturer who’d designed a revolutionary drive system. The party that had hired him for the theft was Malaysian. The drop was to take place in London.
“Yes,” Lassiter said, “I remember talking to you. You weren’t sure you’d need my services.”
The Hawker 800XP was just reaching New Jersey, where it would be refueled for the trip across the Atlantic Ocean. Hickman was making plans as he went.
“Turns out I do,” Hickman said.
“What’s the job?” Lassiter said as he glared at a tourist who walked past on the deck. The man headed back inside.
“Pick up a package and take it to London for me.”
“That’s a long ways out of my way,” Lassiter lied.
“Not according to the man I had following you in Sweden,” Hickman said. “He mentioned you got on board the ferry bound for the east coast of Britain quite a few hours ago. Was that someone else?”
Lassiter didn’t bother to answer. When two liars are speaking, brevity is critical.
“Where’s the package?” he asked.
“You’ll need to pick it up at the train station,” Hickman said. “It’ll be in a locker.”
“You want me to fly it down,” Lassiter asked, “or drive?”
“Drive,” Hickman said.
“Then it’s something that won’t stand up under an X-ray,” Lassiter said. “That raises the risk.”
“Fifty thousand,” Hickman said, “on delivery.”
“Half now,” Lassiter said, “and half upon completion.”
“One third, two thirds,” Hickman said. “I want to be sure you deliver on time.”
Lassiter considered this for a moment. “When do I get my first third?”
“I can wire it right now,” Hickman said. “What account?”
Lassiter rattled off an account in the Channel Islands. “I can’t verify the funds are there until morning. Can I trust you?”
“By the time you’re near London tomorrow morning,” Hickman said, “you can call your bank. You’ll know you’ve been paid before the delivery.”
“And how will I receive the last two thirds?”
“I’ll hand it to you,” Hickman said, “in person.”
“Leaving the sun and sand for the foggy British Isles,” Lassiter said. “It must be big.”
