Teddy grinned. “All right, I filled them with beer and dropped them off at a beach party.”
“That I can believe.”
Teddy got in the car and drove back to the hotel. It was nice handing it off to the valet without having to worry if he’d look in the trunk.
Teddy went into the lobby and used one of the hotel’s computers to send an encrypted e-mail to Warplord924: Any news?
As he expected, Kevin was online. The answer came back almost immediately: Call me.
Teddy sighed. He logged off the computer, went back to his room, and called on a burner phone.
Kevin answered right away. “Is it you?”
“It’s me. What’s up? Don’t tell me you were wrong about ‘c).’”
“No, that was right. It’s just more than you asked for.”
“Oh?”
“You wanted one hit in the last few days. The name in question had almost a hundred.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And I was able to trace them, too. Most of the searches originated in Syria. Does that upset your theory?”
“Not at all. You say ‘most of the searches’?”
“Yeah. There were a couple from Paris. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, it does. Okay, good work.”
“Is there anything else you need?”
“No, but check out the names now and then. See if anything else comes through.”
“You think it will?”
“No.”
Teddy hung up and assessed the situation. Kevin’s news just confirmed that Workman was the man. The searches originating in Syria made perfect sense.
Teddy trashed the cell phone and took out another. He was going through them like water.
He called Jacques in Paris. “Do you know who this is?”
“Yes, I do. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“You’re not. You haven’t heard from me since I left.”
“Of course. What do you need?”
“The reservations at l’Arrington. Could you look up the Syrian delegation for me?”
“Yes. Let me see. Syrians, party of five. Fahd, Syrian strongman, suspected arms dealer; Aziz, his personal bodyguard; and three scientists: two zoologists and one microbiologist. No, wait. I have a late cancellation. Make that two scientists.”
“It wasn’t the microbiologist who canceled, was it?”
“No. One of the zoologists.”
“Do you have their names?”
“The zoologist is Dr. Chaim. The microbiologist is Dr. Badim.”
“And when are they checking in?”
“Let’s see. Actually, tonight.”
“Good work. Remember, you didn’t hear from me. I’ll call you if I need you.”
Teddy went down to the lobby and did a global search for the names Jacques had given him.
There was a lot about Fahd, none of it good. He was a strongman more feared than respected. What made him dangerous was his unpredictability. He was ostensibly in charge of terrorist activities, but it was not clear to whom he reported. Everyone reported to him, however. He was ruthless, cunning, and ambitious, a person to avoid. In every picture his eyes were hard. His face could be described as severe. He was unmarried, but known to enjoy the company of women.
Aziz had only one name, but that name was notorious. He was described as everything from Fahd’s assistant to his bodyguard. The descriptions stopped just short of calling him Fahd’s assassin.
There were no pictures of Aziz, but Teddy had a pretty good idea of who he was.
There was nothing about the zoology professor except his education and teaching position.
There was more on the microbiologist. He had his doctorate. His thesis was on infectious diseases.
* * *
• • •
TEDDY PUT ON a bathing suit and went down to the beach. He got a towel and a beach chair and an umbrella. He took off his shirt, kicked off his flip-flops, and waded into the sea.
It was the first time he’d been swimming since Lance had interrupted his rehab regimen. He wasn’t really swimming now, mostly just bobbing up and down and making sure his head didn’t go under. Teddy had removed his Stetson, but he was still made up like Floyd Maitland. It would be embarrassing if his moustache fell off.
After a nice dip, Teddy went back to the room, dried off, and put on the terry-cloth bathrobe the hotel provided.
Maitland had an iPad in his briefcase. Teddy switched it on and scrolled through the man’s e-mails to see if there was anything useful. He found a few dealing with the convention, but nothing particularly helpful. Teddy hadn’t really expected to find an e-mail with the subject line “Hunt an Endangered Species.” Still, there was nothing to indicate that Floyd Maitland’s interest in rare animals was in any way out of the ordinary.
Teddy googled Floyd Maitland to see if he could come up with anything that would help with his impersonation of the man. If he met someone Maitland knew well, nothing would help, but barring that, any little thing might sell the facade.
His search was fruitless. Jacques had done a good job. Teddy didn’t find anything he didn’t already know.
Teddy switched his search to images. In all the pictures there were certain constants. Maitland always wore his Stetson hat. And he always wore his cowboy boots. And he always wore a broad leather belt with an ornate buckle. Teddy wished Maitland’s belt fit him, but the one he had bought would be close enough.
Teddy noticed one other thing.
In almost all of the photos Maitland also wore a gun belt and holster, with what appeared to be a .45-caliber Colt revolver. He wasn’t wearing it at what appeared to be a banquet, but otherwise it was always there.
Teddy had searched Maitland’s room pretty thoroughly, and could have sworn no such gun was in it, but he searched it again. It was easier this time, since he knew what he was looking for. Starting with the premise of where a .45-caliber Colt revolver might hide, there were not a lot of options. It did not take long for Teddy to satisfy himself the gun was not there.
Teddy couldn’t imagine the man traveling without it, despite the trouble it would take to smuggle it into France.
Teddy got dressed, put on his Stetson hat, and went down to the front desk. “Excuse me. Floyd Maitland. I’m in room four three two.”
“Yes. Mr. Maitland.”
“Help me out, willya, pardner?” Teddy shook his head ruefully. “I am juggling so many things I just can’t keep track of what I’m doing. Did I leave anything in the hotel safe, or was that at the last hotel?”