The Teeth of the Tiger - Tom Clancy [203]
"Thanks. So, what's up?"
Jack walked over to his computer and pointed to the screen. They both leaned down to read.
"Who is this guy?" Dominic asked, thinking Gadfly097 ?
"He came in from Vienna yesterday, too."
Across the street somewhere, maybe? Brian wondered, followed by, Did he see my face?
"Okay, I guess we're up for the appointment," Brian said, looking at Dom and getting a thumbs-up.
The coffee arrived in a few more minutes. Jack served, but the brew, they all found, was gritty, Turkish in character, though far worse even than the Turks served. Still, better than no coffee at all. They did not speak on point. Their tradecraft was good enough that they didn't talk business in a room that hadn't been swept for bugs-which they didn't know how to do, and for which they did not have the proper equipment.
Jack gunned down his coffee and headed into the shower. In it was a red chain, evidently to be pulled in case of a heart attack, but he felt reasonably decent and didn't use it. He wasn't so sure about Dominic, who really did look like cat puke on the rug. In his case, the shower worked wonders, and he came back out shaved and scrubbed pink, ready to rumble.
"The food here is pretty good, but I'm not sure about the coffee," he announced.
"Not sure. Jesus, I bet they serve better coffee in Cuba," Brian said. "MRE coffee is better than this."
"Nobody's perfect, Aldo," Dominic observed. But he didn't like it either.
"So, figure half an hour?" Jack asked. He needed about three more minutes to be ready.
"If not, send an ambulance," Enzo said, heading for the door, and hoping the shower gods were merciful this morning. It was hardly fair, he thought. Drinking gave you a hangover, not driving.
But thirty minutes later, all three were in the lobby, neatly dressed and wearing sunglasses against the bright Italian sun that sparkled outside. Dominic asked the doorman for directions and got pointed to the Via Sistina, which led directly to the Trinit church, and the steps were just across the street, and looked to be eighty or so feet down-there was an elevator serving the subway stop, which was farther down still, but going downhill was not too outrageous a task. It hit all three that Rome had churches the way New York City had candy stores. The walk down was pleasant. The scene, indeed, would be wonderfully romantic if you had the right girl on your arm. The steps had been designed to follow the slope of the hill by the architect Francesco DeSanctis, and was the home of the annual Donna sotto le Stelle fashion extravaganza. At the bottom was a fountain in which lay a marble boat commemorating a major flood, something in which a stone boat would be of little use. The piazza was the intersection of only two streets, and was named for the presence of the Spanish Embassy to the Holy See. The playing field, as it were, was not very large-smaller than Times Square, for example-but it bustled with activity and vehicle traffic, and enough pedestrians to make passage there a dicey proposition for all involved.
Ristorante Giovanni sat on the western side, an undistinguished building of yellow/cream-painted brick, with a large canopied eating area outside. Inside was a bar at which everyone had a lighted cigarette. This included a police officer having a cup of coffee. Dominic and Brian walked in and looked around, scoping the area out before coming back outside.
"We have three hours, people," Brian observed. "Now what?"
"We want to be back here-when?" Jack asked.
Dominic checked his watch. "Our friend is supposed to show up at about one-thirty. Figure we sit down for lunch about twelve forty-five and await developments. Jack, can you ID the guy by sight?"
"No problem," Junior assured them.
"Then I guess we have about two hours to wander around. I was here a couple years ago. There's good shopping."
"Is that a Brioni store over there?" Jack asked, pointing.
"Looks like it," Brian answered. "Won't hurt our cover to do some shopping."
"Then let's do it." He'd never gotten an Italian