“Have you seen him since?”
“Once, the Paris visit last year, just after he was elected. I was a guest at the Presidential Ball. Very unsatisfactory. A few moments only, all very formal, but Teddy spent time with me. Dear Teddy. My father has created a special post for him. Principal Secretary. He has more power in the White House than the rest of the staff combined. He’d kill for my father.”
“But all this leaves us with an unanswered question,” Dillon told her.
“And what’s that?”
“If Judas knows who you are, how did he find out? You, your father, and Teddy Grant are the only people who knew.”
“I know. That bothers me, too.”
“You mentioned your family lawyer, this Michael Rocard. Could he have known?”
“Definitely not. When my mother was dying and we were discussing the whole business, she made it plain that he knew nothing.”
Dillon helped himself to one of her cigarettes and gave her one. “Now listen to me. I’m on your side in all this, whatever happens. He’ll send for us soon, I’m sure of it, and then we’ll know the game plan. I’m telling you now that I’ll go along with anything he wants. No choice really, but whatever happens, my only concern will be to get you out of here eventually. Do you believe me?”
“Yes, Mr. Dillon, I do.”
“Good. Now there’s one thing you can do for me, you being an artist. Judas has an old silver lighter with a crest on the side, some sort of black bird, a hawk maybe, with lightning in its claws. Do you have any charcoal pencils?”
She went to the easel, opened her paint box, and returned to the table with a piece of cartridge paper. “Show me.” Dillon did his clumsy best. “So, wholly black with wings spread,” she said and took the charcoal pencil and sketched. “Was the head and the beak like that, because that’s a hawk?”
“No, the beak was a sort of yellow.”
She rubbed out the head and started again. “That’s it,” Dillon said.
She laughed. “A raven, Mr. Dillon,” and she went to the box again and got two crayons, one black, the other yellow, and finished the bird off.
“Red lightning in its claws,” Dillon told her.
When it was finished, she sat back. “Not bad.”
“Bloody marvelous.” Dillon folded it and put it in his pocket.
“Is it important?”
“I think it’s some sort of military crest. It might be a lead.”
At that moment, the door opened and David Braun and Aaron came in. “This way, if you please,” Aaron said. “Both of you.”
Braun led the way, Aaron following, and they found themselves standing before Judas again in his study.
“So there you are,” he said. “Had a nice chat?”
“All right,” Dillon said. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Okay, old buddy, this is how it goes. Nemesis comes up before the Future Projects Committee next week, and this time the President signs it.”
“Why should he?”
“Because if he doesn’t, I’ll execute his daughter here.”
There was a long pause before Dillon said, “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Dillon, I know who she is.”
“And how could you?”
“I told you, I have Maccabees everywhere. MI5 in London, the CIA. Make a computer inquiry about me, for example, and one of my people will know. Anybody in intelligence will tell you it isn’t the big people you have to worry about, it’s the invisible people. The computer operators, filing clerks, secretaries.” He laughed. “So I know who she is and don’t ask me how.”
Marie de Brissac said, “My father will never sign this insanity.”
“Oh, I think he might be tempted. Cazalet has a lot of emotions wrapped up in you, Marie—love, guilt, a profound sense of loss, and missed opportunities. You are no ordinary hostage. And he can always invent a provocation by the Arabs. The CIA is good at that kind of thing, and we’ll be glad to help, of course. No, I think we can expect him to cooperate, after he thinks about it.”
Dillon said, “Now what?”
“You’ll be returned to Salinas. London and Ferguson next stop.” He opened a drawer and took out a mobile phone. “Latest model, old buddy, satellite-linked and untraceable. You can’t phone me, but I’ll phone you.”