Net Force - Tom Clancy [96]
Well. The clock was running. He needed to finish this, whatever else he did. Steve Day wasnt going to be forgotten. No way.
Sunday, October 3rd, 4:00 p.m. Long Island, New York
Ray Genaloni glanced at his watch. Traffic, even this far out on Long Island on a damned Sunday, was terrible. Of course, he was in the back of a limo with his driver having to deal with it, but even so, it pissed him off. Every minute he spent stuck in a crawl of cars and trucks was one more he wouldnt get to spend with Brigette.
It wasnt as though he didnt get out here once or twice a week. And it wasnt as if Brigette was the best thing ever to pull off her skirt. Hed had better, a couple of times, actually. On the other hand, she was drop-dead gorgeous, ten years younger than he was, and willing to do anything he asked-stuff he would never think about mentioning to his wife, much less trying to do.
When he got to Brigettes place-a little house hed bought for her on a cul-de-sac in a quiet neighborhood among far bigger and more expensive houses-Genaloni sat in his car until his guards in the car in front of his got out and did a quick check of the area. When he came out here, he always had two or three guys in a car in front of the limo, and a couple more in a car behind it. They stayed outside until he was done, even though nobody had ever tried to follow him out here as far as he could tell.
He rang the bell, and his mistress opened the door, dressed in a transparent black silky thing that went from her neck to the floor but hid absolutely nothing. Her grandparents had come from Sweden or Denmark or somewhere like that, and she was big, busty, and fit. You could also see she was a natural blonde. She had two glasses of champagne in her hands, the glasses still frosted from the freezer.
Hi, handsome. My husband is out. Want to come in and have a drink?
He smiled. Sometimes they played games. He took a glass of champagne and stepped in past her. He knew she was giving his bodyguards a show, and he liked that. Suffer, boys, he thought.
As soon as she closed the door, he slid one hand underneath the silk thing and cupped one of her breasts. No silicone here, just smooth, warm boob.
Well. If thats what you want, wed better hurry before my husband gets home.
He can wait his turn, Genaloni said.
Sunday, October 3rd, 2:01 p.m. Las Vegas
Even in the airport, there were machines: slot machines, poker machines, keno machines, electronic beggars lined up to take your money as you walked to your flight. The walls were plastered with giant viewscreens showing dazzling stage magicians, wild-animal acts, and showgirls clothed only in glitter.
Ruzhyo watched as the Snake stopped and fed a dollar bill into one of the slot machines, then cranked the big handle and waited expectantly. The machine whirled its bright colors, then clicked to a stop. Grigory the Snake shook his head, grinned, shrugged. He was not a winner.
Dont know when to quit, does he? Winters said.
Ruzhyo did not speak to that, though it was certainly true. In three days here, Grigory had lost at least five thousand dollars gambling. His one small winning streak at the blackjack tables had ended quickly. In addition to his losses, he had probably spent another two thousand dollars on whores. Of course, it was his money, and he was well paid by Plekhanov; still, seven thousand dollars would provide food and shelter for an average family back home for, what? Nearly two years? Grigory was a fool, a waste of oxygen.
I have a call to make, Ruzhyo said. Let him spend whatever he wants until the plane leaves. We have more than an hour.
Im gonna mosey on over to that gift shop, pick up a magazine.
Ruzhyo nodded. He moved to a bank of public telephones, clamped a one-time scrambler over the mouthpiece and dialed the emergency number. The call took a few seconds, since it was being rerouted five or six times around the world on its way. He was not worried, at least not much, but Plekhanov had missed the last two scheduled calls, on Friday and Saturday, and this