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“Who the fuck knows with the damn CIA?” Garret said. “They have got to be the most incompetent idiots on the planet.” He sat back and took a drink of water.
Green folded his perfectly manicured fingers in front of his face and asked, “So how is my pardon coming along?”
Garret squirmed in his chair for second then looked Green in the eye and said, “It’s coming along just fine.”
“I think you are lying to me,” Green said flatly.
“Cy,” Garret moaned, “we’ve come this far. I’m not going to screw you on our deal.”
“I want my pardon,” Green said in a slightly threatening tone.
“And you’re going to fucking get it,” Garret snapped.
“If I don’t get my pardon, you are a dead man.”
Garret’s throat suddenly felt dry. His life had just been threatened by a man who he knew was capable of following through. “I told you from the very beginning that we were probably going to have to wait until the last minute.” Garret spoke in an even tone. “If the press finds out they could kill this thing. The eleventh hour…Saturday morning…that’s when it will be signed.”
Green ran his palms along the sides of his slicked back hair and accepted Garret’s answer with a nod. Then his face grew serious and he said, “That is fine, but just remember, if it doesn’t get signed, you and your boss are going to pay.”
Garret was not used to being threatened like this. He was usually the one doing the bullying. Feeling as if his back was against the wall, he decided to go on the attack. “For the last time he’s not my boss, and as long as we’re throwing around threats, why don’t you chew on this one. What do you think your old business partner, Pinky, would do if he found out you killed his daughter?”
“Shhh…” Speyer hissed.
Garret lowered his voice a notch and said, “You think just maybe he might call a couple of his old Mossad buddies and have them pay you a visit?”
Green flashed a thin smile at the political huckster sitting across the table. “Pinky should have given that little slut a lobotomy like Joe Kennedy did to his daughter. Trust me,” Green said trying to further undermine Garret’s threat, “she was a constant headache for him. He’s not as upset about her death as it might seem.”
Garret looked at the billionaire through squinted eyes. “Well, how about Josh, then? How do you think the soon to be president of the U.S. of A. would react if he found out you killed his beloved wife, just so you could keep some of your ill-gotten billions?” Garret leaned back, certain the thrust had hit home. “He might send a Tomahawk missile right up your ass. Or maybe he’ll have one of his aircraft carriers accidentally ram that yacht of yours when you’re out in the middle of the Med some night.” Garret picked up a piece of bread. “I sure wouldn’t want to piss off the commander in chief of the world’s lone superpower.”
Green’s face turned crimson with rage. “You ungrateful little shit. This wasn’t my idea.”
“The hell it wasn’t,” hissed Garret.
“You and your boss came whining to me about your problems.”
“He’s not my boss!”
“Excuse me,” said Green. “Your soon-to-be vice president.”
“Our…remember. You’re the one who wants American citizenship back so fucking bad.”
Speyer couldn’t take any more. The restaurant was loud, but even so, a few patrons had glanced their way. “Gentlemen, I think you have both made your point. You have made a deal. Cy has completed his end of the transaction and now it is your turn, Stu. May I suggest a toast?” Speyer raised his glass. “To Cy’s pardon, which I’m sure will be signed on Saturday.”
They all clinked glasses, and Green smiled, saying, “It had better be.”
Garret returned the smile and said, “Don’t worry, it will be. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to take a piss.”
When Garret was gone, Speyer looked at Green and said, “I have never trusted that man. I told you this was a terrible idea. What is so bad about the life you have here? Why do you need to go back to America?”
“You’d never understand. You weren’t born there.” Green looked across the room. There was a pretty blond sitting at the bar. He held up his glass and gave her a smile. Looking back to Speyer he asked, “Are you going to join us later? It should be a wonderful show.”
Speyer wished everyone would leave him alone so he could pick a selection of wines. “I’m not sure. I’m supposed to meet some colleagues later.”
Green smiled his big Cheshire cat smile. “Where…Le Pretexte for a little male bonding?”
Green was right. Speyer planned on meeting a few friends at Geneva’s premier gay nightclub. “What is that American saying you like?”
“Different strokes for different folks.” Green held up his glass. “Find a friend and bring him with. I will have them send a couple of well-endowed boys along with the girls. We will show Mr. Garret how we entertain in Geneva.”
