The Trail to Buddha's Mirror - Don Winslow [76]
Levine came from around the desk, leaving his usual position on the right hand of God. He leaned against the Man’s desk and looked down at Simms. “In that case, I don’t know whether (A) we can continue our current financial relationship with AgriTech, or (B) we may have to call in our paper.”
Simms blew his cool. “You don’t fuck with the government.”
“Watch us.”
“You think you can take on the CIA? You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
“We know enough to launder your goddamn money for the past ten years,” Levine said.
Kitteredge raised a hand to object. “I’m not sure I would call it ‘laundering.’”
“Taking their slush fund, running it through the Bank, and then loaning it back to to their pet corporation to pay for research? Come on, Mr. Kitteredge, what would you call it?”
“Patriotism.”
Nobody answered that one.
Kitteredge smoothed back the unruly lock of ash-blond hair that fell across his forehead. “For an … organization … such as ours, it is our duty and our privilege to support our country. Because we are who we are, that support often takes a covert form. So be it. We do what we can do. However, gentlemen, in this particular case we have erred grieviously. We have—albeit unwittingly, and I am very angry about that, Mr. Simms, very angry—sent our colleague, Neal Carey, into dangerous waters without the proper navigational aids. Thus, sailing in the dark on uncharted waters, he has foundered. If he has indeed … drowned … we must mourn him. But if he is marooned, we must rescue him. We will use—and you will use, Mr. Simms—all our resources to do so. Am I understood, gentlemen?
Ed Levine and Joe Graham nodded.
“Mr. Simms?”
Simms nodded.
“The tea is black gunpowder. Many of my ancestors invested in the China trade,” Kitteredge said.
“Tea traders?”
“Uhhmm. And opium, of course.”
Right, thought Graham. Opium in and tea out. Sounds like money in the bank. Make that money in the Bank.
“Take some with you, Mr. Simms. I’ll have my secretary make up a package,” Kitteredge added.
The abruptness of the dismissal startled Simms. Just who the unholy hell did these people think they were? Nobody wanted to find young Neal Carey more than he did. He shook Kitteredge’s hand, nodded to Levine, and ignored Joe Graham as he left the room.
Kitteredge sat back in his chair and touched his fingertips together at his lips. He looked like he was praying, but Graham knew it was a habit he had when he was in deep thought. So Graham just shut up, something he thought he maybe should have done earlier, because maybe the Man was searching for just the right words to fire him.
Finally he spoke. “Ed?”
“I think we have to assume that Carey’s been the subject of hostile action,” Levine said. “Carey’s an arrogant, undisciplined, unreliable fuck-up, but he’s no traitor.”
“For the right woman?” Kitteredge asked.
“In Carey’s case, there is no right woman. He’s psychologically incapable of that depth of feeling.”
Kitteredge turned to Graham. “Do you concur?”
“If Ed means that Neal is generally pissed off at women and doesn’t trust them, sure,” Graham answered. “Is this what they teach you in night school, Ed?”
Levine was on a roll. “It’s more than not trusting them. Neal expects betrayal. His mother was an addict and a prostitute, and worse than that, she left him—”
“We kicked her out of town.”
“Nevertheless, deep down, Neal knows that any woman he loves will eventually leave him, betray him. When she does, she validates his view of life. If she doesn’t, he’ll do something to make her leave. If that doesn’t work, he’ll leave and be pissed off when she doesn’t follow him. So—”
Graham slammed his fist on the table. “If Doctor Fraud here is finished, I’d like to start looking for Neal.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Graham. Keep your arm on. What I’m saying, so that even Graham can understand it, is that it’s just not possible that Neal