Fahd looked at Aziz for approval and reassurance. Of course, he got none. He knew he wouldn’t, but every now and then he couldn’t help looking anyway.
Fahd scooped up the phone and barked, “Joram!”
The little computer technician poked his head in the door. “Sir?”
“Joram, I need you in this chair. Why are you not in this chair?”
“Sir, you told me to go. You were meeting with the general and you did not want me present.”
“Well, I am not meeting him now, am I? Do you have my itinerary for Paris, as I requested?”
“Yes, sir.” Joram sat at the computer and began typing.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling it up.”
“I don’t want to stand here reading over your shoulder. Print it out for me.”
“Yes, sir.” Joram did so, and handed it to him. “Our reservation is for you, Aziz, Dr. Habib, Dr. Chaim, and Dr. Badim. You’re all registered for the conference, and you paid extra for the special panel: Rarest of the Rare. The three doctors have airline tickets. You and Aziz will be traveling by private plane.”
“Where are the airline tickets?”
“I will print out the reservations. The boarding passes I can print out twenty-four hours before the flight.”
“Can they get their own boarding passes at the airport?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I suppose even doctors can figure out how to do that.”
“They’ve been given instructions and a travel itinerary. They understand that you will brief them on what you want them to do.”
“Oh, they understand that, do they?”
“They have been told.”
“Then I suppose I have to do it.”
Joram felt like somehow he had done something wrong. “Do you want me to do it for you?” he offered as a conciliatory gesture.
“You wouldn’t know what to say. No, get them in here.”
“Do you want them all at once?”
“Three scientists? I’d never keep them straight. One at a time, please.”
Joram sat down and started making calls.
55.
DR. HABIB WAS concerned. He’d been delighted when he learned he was going to a rare animal convention in Paris. Less so when he learned he would be attending with Fahd, a reputed military strongman and weapons dealer, a man with no background or interest in zoology. Fahd’s attendance at a conservation convention did not compute, but his orders were clear. He was to report to Fahd and receive his instructions for the trip to Paris. So he was nervous when he knocked on the door.
The door was opened by a short, stocky man with a bald head. That would be Aziz. Dr. Habib had heard stories about Aziz. He hoped they weren’t true.
Aziz motioned Dr. Habib in, so that story at least was accurate. The little man was mute.
Fahd was seated behind his desk. He did not get up to greet the doctor, or offer him a chair. He just let him stand there while he finished up some paperwork.
Finally he looked up.
“And you are?”
“Dr. Habib.”
Fahd consulted a paper on his desk. “Yes. You will be going to the rare animal convention in Paris.”
“Yes, sir.”
“As a zoologist, you must be pleased.”
“I am.”
“You don’t sound pleased.”
“I am pleased. I’m just somewhat confused. Why am I going?”
“You’re going to study animals. Isn’t that what zoologists do?”
“Yes, of course. I’m going with Dr. Chaim and Dr. Badim.”
“How do you know that?”
“I asked.”
Fahd glanced over at Joram. The computer technician was suddenly very busy studying the desktop monitor.
Dr. Habib found he could not resist a little subtle digging for information. He affected a casual mien. “Dr. Badim is a microbiologist. I wonder why he is going.”
“To study the animals, of course.”
“Yes. I’m just concerned that he is a microbiologist. If there is any infectious disease we are on the look out for, it would be of some concern. Particularly if it was common to any specific breed of animal.”
“I assure you there is not.”
“It is strange, though.”
“Will this prevent you from having a good time?”
“No.”
Fahd cocked his head. “Joram, would you mind working in the other room? I would like to talk to Dr. Habib alone. Someone seems to be telling people our business.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
Joram got up and scuttled out.
“Now then,” Fahd said, getting up from his chair and walking around the desk. “I would like to allay your doubts about our project. If you have doubts, you will not have a good time.” Fahd put his arm around Dr. Habib’s shoulders. “I’m going to let you talk to Professor Malik. He is an expert in the field, and can explain the need for a microbiologist. I assure you it is nothing sinister. Aziz, would you please take Dr. Habib and introduce him to Professor Malik. Tell him he has my authority to speak freely about the conference.”
Fahd made a face. “What am I saying? Of course you can’t tell him. He’s a mute, you see. Here. Take him this note.”
Fahd went to the desk, pulled a piece of paper from a pocket notebook, and wrote Kill him on it. He folded it up and handed it to Aziz.
Aziz nodded, and led Dr. Habib out.
Fahd picked up the phone and barked, “Joram!”
Joram expected to be in serious trouble for telling the doctor who else was going with him to Paris. “Yes, sir,” he said meekly.
“Change the itinerary. We’re only taking two doctors.”
56.
TEDDY WOKE UP and called the front desk from his cell. “This is Devon Billingham in room three oh eight. I’m checking out. My bill’s paid, and I’m leaving my keys in the room.”
Teddy wasn’t in Devon’s room. He was upstairs in Floyd Maitland’s suite, and he didn’t feel like dressing up like Devon Billingham just to check out. He’d already left the keys and taken his suitcase, so he just had to make the phone call.