years ago. Doesn’t take much to set us off, really. A curve of the hip. A certain look in the eye. But let me tell you something about our Nanette. Put together nicely, I’ll grant you, but she’s cut from solid granite. Cold, hard, and sharp at every edge. Probably a little bitter for her own good, but very effective at pretty much everything she does.”
“Why bitter?” Sam immediately wished he hadn’t asked. Better to have let the subject die a natural death.
“Passed over for bigger and better things one too many times, I suspect. That tends to happen when you blow the whistle and no one listens. And, yes, I know all about that poor veep for finance she busted in Africa. But he was an easy mark. The stronger ones with better protection always survive. And after that happens a few times maybe the inclination is to say, hey, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
Or maybe, Sam thought, the inclination was to take out your frustrations on smaller fry, like a quality control officer with a penchant for randy behavior. Assuming that what Charlie said was even true. Obviously there was no love lost between the two of them.
“Well, if you think she’s interested in me now,” Charlie said, “just wait ’til a week from Monday, on the fourteenth. She’ll get all of me she wants.”
“Monday? In Hong Kong?”
“That’s another thing. I won’t be going to Hong Kong. I’m staying here through the week. Go ahead and tell her if she happens to ask. But it’s strictly for business. Tell her that, too. The reckoning is coming, old son.”
Sam told none of this to Lieutenant Assad, of course. Too much to explain. Nor did he even consider revealing his role as Nanette’s spy, which would have raised unwarranted suspicion. But with Charlie now lying dead on the floor, the man’s earlier words took on a new significance. What was supposed to be happening on Monday the 14th, and what was Charlie’s “reckoning”? Or had he prematurely brought that on himself, tonight at the York?
“So, then,” Assad asked, “where did you go next?”
Dinner, drinks in a few places he now barely remembered, followed by a fairly early bedtime. Sam then showered and crashed into a dreamless sleep, with the whine of the Emirates jet still roaring in his ears as he drifted off.
“And this was what time?”
“Maybe ten. No, later. I was pretty beat.”
“So for all you know, Mr. Hatcher could have met someone downstairs. Or gone back out on the town.”
“I suppose.” The idea had occurred to him as he showered, but he had been too tired to stay out longer, and he had counted on Charlie’s age to keep him grounded as well.
“What about the next day?”
“I was up pretty early. Caught a cab to the beach at Jumeirah to take a walk. Charlie slept in ’til noon.”
“Yes. He almost definitely went back out without you.”
Great, Sam thought. Just don’t put that in your report, in case Nanette reads it.
“We had brunch, then took it easy in the afternoon around the hotel pool. We both did some business by phone.”
“Local contacts?”
“Not for me. With Charlie, who knows?”
Assad scribbled a note.
“These calls. He would have been using a smart phone or BlackBerry, correct? Which you say you weren’t able to find?”
“Yes.”
It made Sam curious to see what was in the datebook. He wondered if he should hand it over. But that would be admitting he’d hidden it to begin with.
“And in the evening?”
“We had dinner at Al Mahara in the Burj Al Arab, the seafood place with the big aquarium.”
Assad smiled wryly.
“Did you happen to see a fat local gentleman in a very ugly brown pin-striped suit?”
“Not that I recall.”
“My boss, Brigadier Razzaq. He is there at least twice a week. His banker friends know it’s his favorite. He has been observed drinking alcohol there.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“And you dined alone, just the two of you?”
Was it Sam’s imagination, or
“Why bitter?” Sam immediately wished he hadn’t asked. Better to have let the subject die a natural death.
“Passed over for bigger and better things one too many times, I suspect. That tends to happen when you blow the whistle and no one listens. And, yes, I know all about that poor veep for finance she busted in Africa. But he was an easy mark. The stronger ones with better protection always survive. And after that happens a few times maybe the inclination is to say, hey, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
Or maybe, Sam thought, the inclination was to take out your frustrations on smaller fry, like a quality control officer with a penchant for randy behavior. Assuming that what Charlie said was even true. Obviously there was no love lost between the two of them.
“Well, if you think she’s interested in me now,” Charlie said, “just wait ’til a week from Monday, on the fourteenth. She’ll get all of me she wants.”
“Monday? In Hong Kong?”
“That’s another thing. I won’t be going to Hong Kong. I’m staying here through the week. Go ahead and tell her if she happens to ask. But it’s strictly for business. Tell her that, too. The reckoning is coming, old son.”
Sam told none of this to Lieutenant Assad, of course. Too much to explain. Nor did he even consider revealing his role as Nanette’s spy, which would have raised unwarranted suspicion. But with Charlie now lying dead on the floor, the man’s earlier words took on a new significance. What was supposed to be happening on Monday the 14th, and what was Charlie’s “reckoning”? Or had he prematurely brought that on himself, tonight at the York?
“So, then,” Assad asked, “where did you go next?”
Dinner, drinks in a few places he now barely remembered, followed by a fairly early bedtime. Sam then showered and crashed into a dreamless sleep, with the whine of the Emirates jet still roaring in his ears as he drifted off.
“And this was what time?”
“Maybe ten. No, later. I was pretty beat.”
“So for all you know, Mr. Hatcher could have met someone downstairs. Or gone back out on the town.”
“I suppose.” The idea had occurred to him as he showered, but he had been too tired to stay out longer, and he had counted on Charlie’s age to keep him grounded as well.
“What about the next day?”
“I was up pretty early. Caught a cab to the beach at Jumeirah to take a walk. Charlie slept in ’til noon.”
“Yes. He almost definitely went back out without you.”
Great, Sam thought. Just don’t put that in your report, in case Nanette reads it.
“We had brunch, then took it easy in the afternoon around the hotel pool. We both did some business by phone.”
“Local contacts?”
“Not for me. With Charlie, who knows?”
Assad scribbled a note.
“These calls. He would have been using a smart phone or BlackBerry, correct? Which you say you weren’t able to find?”
“Yes.”
It made Sam curious to see what was in the datebook. He wondered if he should hand it over. But that would be admitting he’d hidden it to begin with.
“And in the evening?”
“We had dinner at Al Mahara in the Burj Al Arab, the seafood place with the big aquarium.”
Assad smiled wryly.
“Did you happen to see a fat local gentleman in a very ugly brown pin-striped suit?”
“Not that I recall.”
“My boss, Brigadier Razzaq. He is there at least twice a week. His banker friends know it’s his favorite. He has been observed drinking alcohol there.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“And you dined alone, just the two of you?”
Was it Sam’s imagination, or
Similar Books
