Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [26]
"Here, how are they getting in and we can't even make the bar?"
"I'll tell you what you'll make," Joe Baxter said. "The back of the line if you don't shut up."
The man subsided, muttering under his breath, and Hall held the door wide to pass them through, then followed. He escorted them up the stairs, where the headwaiter stood at the booking desk, a dark, energetic Portuguese in a white tuxedo.
"Fernando, these are Mr. Salter's guests."
Fernando smiled. "A pleasure," and led the way into the restaurant, which was beautifully designed in Art Deco style, tables dotted around a small dance floor, booths behind. There was a cocktail bar straight out of the thirties, and a trio played dance music. All the waiters wore white monkey jackets.
Fernando led the way to a large booth, and two of the boys pulled the table out so they could sit.
"What may I offer you to drink?"
"Jack Daniel's for me, with branch water," Rupert told him. "A champagne cocktail for the lady. When are you expecting Mr. Salter?"
"He's on his way."
"Then we won't order yet," Kate said. "Just the drinks."
Rupert took out a pack of Marlboros and shook out two. He lit them both and offered her one. "Just like in the movies."
She laughed. "Whatever else you are, darling, Paul Henreid you're not."
"Though Bette Davis played a number of ladies who remind me of you."
"What a compliment, Rupert."
The drinks came. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Absolutely." She toasted him. "Cheers, darling."
Shortly afterwards, Harry Salter and the others came in. "Are you being looked after okay?"
"Perfectly," Kate Rashid said.
"Good. We'll join you then."
Joe Baxter had followed and stood against the wall, his arms folded, Billy beside him looking grim. Dillon sat at the end of the booth, a cigarette smoldering from the right-hand corner of his mouth. Ferguson and Harry sat opposite.
"As it's my shout, I'll order for all of us," Harry said, and turned to Fernando. "Cristal all round, still water, none of that sparkling stuff, scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, chopped onions, tossed salad all round."
Fernando retreated hurriedly and Kate said, "A man who knows his own mind."
"That's why I'm here and a lot of others are long gone."
Ferguson said, "So, what's it all about, my dear?"
"Here we go, Rupert, the General playing the bluff and honest English gentleman. What it's all about, General, is that I want you off my case. I know you've been checking up on me. So has Daniel Quinn. And I know you wouldn't be sitting here with me if you'd found anything good. We had an interesting meeting in Washington the other night, you know. Strong words were spoken, views exchanged. I'm sure Blake's passed all that on to you."
"Of course," Dillon said. "It was just after a couple of guys tried to mug Quinn on his way to the White House."
"Really? How unfortunate. I assume he handled himself well. But speaking of mugging, what about you and your little foray to Loch Dhu?"
"Ah, well, just a little recreation. We stayed at Ardmurchan Lodge a few years ago, and thought we'd try it again. Very pleasant. Ferguson and I went shooting."
"I just bet you did," Kate said.
"Deer," Dillon told her, and smiled. "Just deer."
"Brown had to have nine stitches in his face. I seriously disapprove of thugs pistol-whipping my employees. Try it again and you'll regret it, Dillon." Her face was a mask of restrained anger. "And what was the purpose of going all the way up there just to let me know you'd been there? You could have phoned me."
"To get the official line on your Act of Class Warfare kiddies?" Ferguson asked. "All that bunkum about country pursuits for school parties? You're not teaching them to play patty fingers up there."
"We have nothing to hide, General, and you know damn well you can't prove otherwise."
"What about all those organizations of yours in the Mideast?" Ferguson asked.
"I'm a very wealthy Arab. I feel privileged to be able to help my people. Some organizations