The Hadrian Memorandum - Allan Folsom [107]
So take it easy, he told himself. Calm down. So far everything they had plotted from Berlin to here, even with the delays, had worked. Now came the waiting game; it happened in almost every business transaction, and as anxiety-provoking as it was, it wasn’t unreasonable.
He glanced at the blue-tape BlackBerry. Conor White was nearby and waiting. He could wait a few minutes longer.
Wirth picked up the other BlackBerry, hit the speed dial, and called Arnold Moss’s personal cell phone. It was almost five twenty in the morning in Houston. Whether Moss was up or not made little difference. If things were going to come off as planned, at some point soon White would go into action, and Wirth needed to officially cover the state of affairs. It was something his general counsel would understand immediately and afterward dictate for transcription to be included in the Striker corporate record under MINUTES OF THE DAY.
“Good morning, Sy.” Moss picked up at once. If he’d woken from sleep it wasn’t evident. “Where are you?”
“Faro, Portugal.”
“I thought you were headed to Barcelona.”
“I was. Conor White called several hours ago telling me he was on his way here and asked me to meet him. I’ve only just arrived. He said it was urgent but didn’t say why or what it was. From the sound of his voice I’d say it was more than urgent, it was critical. Frankly I’m hesitant to call him because I don’t know what’s going on. I’d rather have him come to me and explain it.”
“You think Hadrian should be advised?”
“Probably. But again I don’t know. Hadrian and SimCo have their own arrangements. If what’s going on here has to do with Striker, I’m completely in the dark about it.”
“Have you heard from him since you arrived?”
“No. Not yet.”
“If he asked you to meet him the way he did, I’d say Hadrian should be advised right away. Let them get in the middle of it, or at the least advise us as to what’s going on. Want me to call Loyal Truex?”
“No, I’ll do it. He still with Joe Ryder in Iraq?”
“Yes.”
“Go back to whatever you were doing, Arnie. I’ll be in touch later.”
“Good luck.”
“Indeed.”
Wirth clicked off just as his breakfast came.
“Will there be anything else, sir?” his waiter asked.
Wirth looked up. “Not just now, thank you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wirth watched him go, then picked up the BlackBerry, looked at it, and set it back down. Loyal Truex was in Iraq. Wirth’s story would be that he had tried to get through to him but couldn’t get a connection and so would try again later. Meaning no call would be made to Truex until the photographs had been recovered and Nicholas Marten and Anne Tidrow were dead, with Conor White and his men in the custody of Portuguese authorities charged with their killing and the suspicion of their involvement in the Madrid farmhouse murders. All of it topped, as Wirth would put it to Truex, by the chilling sense that because White had asked him to meet him there and because of what had happened to Anne, he’d meant to kill him, too. That way, and quite clearly, Truex would have been informed of the extent of Conor White’s derangement.
11:09 A.M.
69
PRAIA DA ROCHA, LIVROS USADOS GRANADA. 11:12 A.M.
Bright and steamy hot outside, inside the Granada used-book store was dark and cool with classical music playing softly in the background. There were five small, interconnecting rooms, each with floor-to-ceiling shelves and large floor bins, all of them crammed to overflowing with thousands of used books in a dozen or more languages.
A thirty-something woman with short dark hair and wearing a light summer dress was behind the checkout counter as Anne and Marten came in. Beyond her