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The words were jesting, the tone in which they were said was not. Thus Rice had gotten on the plane and flown across numerous time zones to help his boss negotiate the deaths of thousands.
“How do you want to open the meeting?” Rice asked him.
“We will greet, we will smile. If they want us to eat and drink we will. Then we will negotiate. By the way, do not show them the bottom of your shoe, a great insult.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“Yes, the most important of all.”
Rice looked at him expectantly.
“If the need arises to run, make sure you run fast.”
Rice looked shaken. “Do you think the need might arise?”
“I cannot tell. But one thing I do know is I don’t trust desert men in hattahs who want to blow up the world.”
“Then for God’s sake why are we here?”
“I spoke of a man needing a challenge.”
“Do you really think we may need to run?”
“Perhaps. If so, just make sure I am in front of you.”
“And if you’re not?”
“I will shoot you and then run over your dead body.”
CHAPTER
22
THE HOME was large, contemporary, and miles from any other dwelling. They were met at the front gate by a man in a dark British-tailored suit and wearing a turban. He searched Waller and Rice, and Waller’s gun was confiscated. “That’s a customized Heckler and Koch nine-millimeter,” he told the Arab. “I expect it back in the same pristine condition.”
If the man understood this he made no sign of it.
“And my men?” Waller indicated behind him at the six burly fellows who had held on to their hardware. He’d asked the question and thought he knew the answer. In halting English the Arab said that they were free to come inside and could also keep their weapons. Waller frowned at this directive but said nothing.
Rice looked up at the face of the darkened structure. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” he said hopefully.
As they walked up the front drive, Waller said, “Oh, they’re home. I’m sure we’ll be very welcome.”
“Why don’t you sound too certain of that?”
“I am certain. It must be your nerves running away with you.”
“I wonder why,” the other man said under his breath.
The interior illumination was weak enough that Rice had to squint to make out things in the farthest corners of the large rooms. The bodyguards trailing them, Waller and Rice followed the turbaned man deeper into the house.
The man paused at a pair of large double doors that appeared to be made of stainless steel. He opened them and motioned the others through. When they passed into the room, they saw one man sitting at a round table in the center, the space lit only by a single table lamp. The man was dressed in a loose-fitting robe known in the Muslim world as a thobe. He was boxy through the middle though his face was drawn. His beard was trimmed short and he wore no headdress.
“Sit,” he said, motioning to the chairs set around the table.
Waller took his time looking around the room gauging tactical
positions and then motioned his men to take up posts in various spots. He eased into a chair and studied the man.
