The Hadrian Memorandum - Allan Folsom [106]
Conor White’s Falcon had landed, and he and the others were at the airport waiting for word and ready to go. But to w here? Korostin’s men should have long ago been on the ground. By now, theoretically at least, they would know where Marten was. But theoretically was just that, nothing. He couldn’t send White after Marten if he didn’t know where he had gone. And he couldn’t know that without Korostin telling him. The whole thing was very nearly a replay of what had happened when Marten dodged them all at the airport in Málaga, disabling the hidden transmitter and flying off for parts unknown. Now he was on the ground somewhere here with all kinds of land routes open to him. If they’d lost him this time there was every chance he would recover the photographs and disappear into the countryside. Then what? Sit back and wait for the pictures to be made public?
Then, and maybe darker still, there was Korostin himself. He knew how important the pictures were. What if his people already had Marten? If they retrieved the photographs and looked at them out of sheer prurient interest expecting to see illicit sex, it wouldn’t take long for them to realize what they really had, and Wirth would never know until it was too late. By then Korostin would have not only the pictures but also the Santa Cruz–Tarija gas field. Depending on what he did with the photos—turning them over to the Russian government would be the worst—he might very well lose the Bioko field as well.
He went into the bathroom and washed his hands and face, then stared at himself in the mirror. What had he done? The idea that Korostin might somehow double-cross him had never entered his mind. This was his own doing. His alone. Even his chief counsel, Arnold Moss, had no idea he’d made a deal with Korostin. Only Conor White knew someone else was involved, but he had no idea who it was.
Wirth cursed himself with every word he knew. Why he had so blindly trusted the Russian? Inviting him to secretly partake in the greatest triumph of his life had been insane. It was like taking a lover and trusting her with all kinds of intimate secrets only to have her destroy your marriage and family and afterward run off with the company.
Half panicked and full of rage, he went back into the other room and picked up the BlackBerry, determined to try Korostin again. No sooner was it in his hand than it rang.
“Yes,” he snapped.
“Josiah, you call me every five minutes. You’re giving me a headache. Where the hell are you?” Dimitri Korostin’s voice rumbled through the receiver.
“Faro. Where the hell are your people?”
“There and gone.”
“To where? Do they know where Marten is?”
“They have rented a car and left the city. That’s all I know. When I have more I will tell you.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Josiah, it’s all I have. Trust me.”
“Trust you?”
“Yes, trust me.” Korostin paused. “I think maybe you are getting nervous again. Don’t, there is no need.”
“The terms of our contract, Dimitri. I am to be there when the pictures are recovered. They are to be brought directly to me unopened.”
“I think I was right about the pictures compromising you. Very personal, yes? You and a woman. Or several women. Or men? Doing what, Josiah? We’re all human. We do things. We aren’t perfect. What makes these photographs so special you can’t live another hour without them?”
“That’s my business.”
“Josiah, you will be there when the pictures are recovered. They will be delivered to you right away. The terms of the contract. You have my word.”
There was a click and Wirth’s BlackBerry went dead.
11:15 A.M.
Sy Wirth sat at a corner table in the hotel’s Santo Antonio restaurant staring blankly out over the harbor. The two BlackBerrys were on the table in front of him, the one with the blue-tape closest. A waiter came and took his order—coffee and fresh fruit. Maybe he was being crazy. Maybe Dimitri had been right when he told him to calm down. There was a big payoff for him, so why would he double-cross Wirth, especially as he