It wouldn’t be easy. Friendly and gregarious was unlikely to be their manner. Teddy expected the Syrians to keep to themselves, and resist any intrusion on their privacy. Not that that would stop him. Teddy was lucky to have chosen a loud, flamboyant persona. Missing social cues and being aggressively friendly was right in character. The fact that they all had stars on their name tags could be seized upon as a momentous occurrence, rather than just noted in passing.
Toward that end, Teddy figured it would be good if the Syrians noticed him before he made his approach. He just had to make sure that happened.
Teddy went back to the front desk.
“Excuse me. Floyd Maitland. I just checked in. I left a box in the hotel safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Could I get it, please?”
60.
THE GRAND BALLROOM was set up for the opening ceremony. There were cash bars in all four corners, with free wine and soft drinks at tables in between. There was a buffet table down the middle, which proved to have an assortment of hors d’oeuvres.
The ballroom was crowded, but not nearly so much so as the convention hall zoo. The convention itself was not a family affair. The plight of endangered species was a serious business that drew the attention of the most noted scientists and conversationalists from around the world.
Teddy was decked out for the opening ceremony in his cowboy boots, Stetson hat, blue jeans, and leather jacket.
He also wore his six-shooter, which he twirled occasionally. He was quite good at it. He’d practiced up in his room, but it didn’t take much. Teddy had played cowboys as a stuntman. He could draw the gun, twirl it, and stick it back in the holster in one fluid motion, without ever taking his eyes off the man he was looking at.
Teddy got himself bourbon on the rocks. He elbowed his way through the crowd, holding his drink aloft, and looking for the Syrians.
He spotted Aziz first. The little hitman had just gotten a drink at the cash bar. It was clear, probably vodka. He tossed it off, set the glass down, and marched back to the others.
Teddy took a moment to size up the group. Fahd was frightening. He was a remorseless, take-no-prisoners type, every bit as deadly as Aziz. But while the little hitman would kill, Fahd would order it done.
Teddy had no problem sorting out the scientists. The severe, humorless one who looked like he belonged behind a Bunsen burner would be the microbiologist. The fidgety, nervous one who looked eager to please would be the zoologist. Teddy wondered if the man was just shy in social situations, or if his anxiety had anything to do with the fact that there had originally been two Syrian zoologists scheduled to attend and, the unsettling thought, maybe they were an endangered species.
Teddy finished off his drink. He bellied up to the bar. “Hey, barkeep! Barkeep! Another bourbon on the rocks!” When the bartender handed it to him, Teddy handed it back. “No! Make it a double!” he cried, pushing his hat brim back with the barrel of his Colt forty-five.
The bartender’s eyes widened. “I don’t believe you’re allowed to have that in here.”
“Nonsense,” Teddy said. “Show me the rule. If you can’t show me the rule, I don’t have to do it.” He slapped money down on the bar, said “Keep it,” and grabbed his drink. “See? I’m a sport. Only got a single, and I paid you for a double. How do you like that?”
As he turned away from the table, out of the corner of his eye Teddy could see the bartender beckon one of the hotel staff over.
Teddy waved his drink with one hand and his Stetson with the other. He clapped his hat back on his head, drew his gun, twirled it, and returned it to the holster with a flourish. He careened into the middle of the floor, stopped, and took a huge pull of his drink. He drew his gun and twirled it again.
Many of the other guests were edging away from him, and men in hotel staff uniforms were weaving their way through the crowd.
A man who appeared to be with hotel security came walking up. “Excuse me,” he said, quietly. “If monsieur would please come with me.”
“No, I won’t come with you,” Teddy said loudly. “I paid a lot to be at this convention, and I got a right to be here.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“If you want to talk to me, do it after the reception.”
“I’m sorry, monsieur, but you cannot bring a gun into the royal ballroom. It is against the law.”
“Prove it,” Teddy said.
The security guard was taken aback. The man with him, probably a desk clerk, said in a conciliatory manner, “Monsieur, we would prefer not to involve the authorities. If you would care to leave your gun at the front desk, we would be glad to hold it for you, but you cannot have it here.”
“In my country we have second amendment rights,” Teddy said.
“In your country, I would not bother you. In my country, I must hold your gun.”
“All right,” Teddy said. “But you owe me a drink. Tell him to give me a drink on the house.”
The staffman nodded to the bartender.
“Bourbon,” Teddy said. He took off his gun belt, handed it over, and headed for the bar. He didn’t need the gun belt anymore. It had served its purpose.
Everyone knew who he was.
61.
A PROFESSORIAL-LOOKING GENTLEMAN in a tweed jacket tapped on the microphone. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I am Lucius Camus, and I am delighted to be hosting the third annual Endangered Species Preservation Conference.”
There was a round of applause.
“We want you to know how much we value your support for this worthy cause. In addition to the pledge drives, raffle tickets, and charity auctions, nothing beats a cash donation. And nothing makes you feel better than to know you are contributing to the preservation of these endangered species.
“But you are here to enjoy yourselves, as I am sure you will. We have triple-track programming scheduled. We’re sorry you won’t be able to attend all the panels, but you will always have three excellent options to choose from. Afterward, you can exchange ideas with someone who saw one of the others. And I happen to know some of our lecturers, if you buy them a drink in the bar, they will never stop talking.”
This sally was met with appreciative laughter.
“Panels will begin tomorrow morning at nine. All panels are open to everyone, except for those few panels designated by a star. Only guests with stars on their name tags will be admitted to those panels. Please don’t feel discriminated against. It’s because they paid extra.”
Lucius gestured to the man standing next to him. “And now, it is my great pleasure to introduce Monsieur Rene Darjon, our benefactor, who has generously underwritten the conference for the third year running. Without his help, none of this would have been possible. Ladies and gentlemen, Monsieur Rene Darjon!”