“So Gold is a Maccabee?” Hannah said.
“Undoubtedly.”
He pulled in under the marquee at the front of the hotel. “I’ll see you at Andrews as soon as possible.”
They got out and went in and Blake Johnson drove away with Teddy.
Gold had left his call to Judas until he reached his apartment. The bodies at the morgue had horrified him, the sickly sweet smell of corruption.
He had a brandy and made the call on the special mobile. “It’s Gold,” he said, when Judas answered. “I got access to the morgue. He’s dead all right.”
“Excellent,” Judas said. “I’ll be in touch.”
In her room, Marie de Brissac was having a rest, lying on the bed when the door opened. David Braun came in, followed by Judas in his hood. Marie sat up and swung her legs to the floor.
“What do you want?” She was alarmed but refused to show it.
“I just wanted to share some news with you.” Judas was laughing, she could tell. “Your friend Dillon was knocked off a little while ago.”
“You’re lying.”
“He’s lying in a morgue in Washington right now with two bullets in the back. He won’t be returning, Countess.”
He laughed out loud and went out and she started to cry. David Braun put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.
“Go on, get out! You’re as bad as he is!”
IRELAND • LONDON • FRANCE
EASTERN MEDITERRANEAN
EIGHT
Dillon sat in front of the sink in the bathroom at Teddy’s apartment, a towel about his neck and shoulders. Teddy stood in the corner smoking a cigarette, and Mildred Atkinson was behind Dillon, looking at him in the mirror.
“Can you do something, Mildred?”
“Of course I can. Lovely face.” She nodded. “The hair, really, but I hate giving people black dye jobs. No matter how good you do it, it looks wrong. I mean, I adore this hair of yours, love,” she said to Dillon, “like pale straw. What I’ll do is crop it, crew cut really, and I’ll bronze it up just like the photo on the passport you’ve shown me. It’ll change the shape of your skull. Then the eyebrows.” She frowned. “Glasses are tinted, I see. I’ll check on what I have in my bag of tricks.”
She picked up her scissors and started. “You’re English,” Dillon said.
“That’s true, love. I’m from Camden in good old London town. Started in this game as a kid at Pinewood Studios.”
“What brought you here?”
“Love, my dear, for the biggest American bastard you ever met in your life. By the time I discovered that, I’d made my bones in the business, so I decided to stay. Anyway, stop talking and let’s get on with it.”
Dillon sat back, a different Dillon staring at him from the mirror. Teddy said in awe, “You’re a genius, Mildred. The tinted glasses are just right.”
She packed her bag. “Good luck, Mr. Dillon. The dye should be good for two weeks.”
“Let me give you something,” Teddy said.
“Nonsense, it was a pleasure.” She patted his face and smiled at Dillon. “Lovely boy, Teddy,” and went out.
At Andrews, they parted, Ferguson and Hannah Bernstein first in the Lear. Blake, Dillon, and Teddy watched them go, standing just inside the hangar out of the rain.
Teddy shook hands. “Well, it’s up to you guys now.”
Dillon started to turn away, then remembered something and produced his wallet. He took out the sketch Marie de Brissac had made for him and unfolded it.
“The President’s daughter did this for me. It’s the crest on the side of the silver lighter Judas used.”
“Looks like an army divisional flash to me,” Blake said.
“Yes, and as we know Judas served in the Yom Kippur War, it must be Israeli. A raven with lightning in its claws. Check it out, Teddy. There must be listings of Israeli Army shoulder flashes somewhere.”
“Probably in the public library.” Teddy laughed. “Okay, I’ll take care of it.”
A large black man wearing a standard airline navy blue uniform came across with an umbrella. “Sergeant Paul Kersey, gentlemen. I’m your flight attendant. I think you know the pilots, Mr. Johnson.”