"I see it now," Bajaratt said. "Youre trying to stop me, arent you? You have an armed servant who can easily kill me."
"And have the wrath of the Baaka descend on all our necks? You are their adopted, most-favored daughter, wife of the dead hero of Ashkelon, a woman so revered, the Councils seek your advice and forever give you their blessings. For all I know, the Baaka had you followed to this house."
"Never! I act on my own, never to be interfered with!"
"Im sure thats your understanding, but I have no such a.s.surance, therefore no harm would ever come to you here. Please, youre overwrought, and I say again, Im not your enemy, Im your friend."
"Yet youre saying you want me to eliminate the Jerusalem agenda, how can you?"
"For the reasons I just gave you-among them the slaughter of perhaps a million Palestinians. There would be no Palestinian cause, then, for the heart of a people would be ripped out."
"Theyve taken our lands, our children, our future, why not our hearts?"
"Words, Amaya, foolish declarations-"
"They will never take our souls!"
"Even more foolish words. Souls cant fight without bodies. One must survive to fight, you of all women must know that. You are the supreme strategist."
"And you? Who are you, living in all this, to lecture me?" Bajaratts hand swept the opulent room.
"Ah, this," the ageless beauty said, laughing softly. "The image of wealth and self-indulgence, a combination that denotes power and influence, for one follows the other in this materialistic world. We all show off. Its always the images that are important, isnt it? I dont have to tell you that, you are an imagiste extraordinaire.... Were not so different, Amaya Aquirre. You create diversions from the outside, aimed at penetrating the exterior; I, on the other hand, bore my way into the interior, and when the time is right, blow apart the sh.e.l.l with the ammunition at hand.... You are that ammunition, that nitroglycerin, my child-and dont tell me you are not my child in this cause, this holy cause-because you are now my daughter."
"I am no ones daughter any longer! I sprang from death, watching death!"
"You are mine. Whatever you watched, whatever you observed, is nothing compared to what I went through. You spoke of Shatila and Sabra, but you werent there. I was! You think you want vengeance, my non-Arab child? I want it far more than you can ever imagine."
"Then how can you stop me from killing the Jew?"
"Because you will unleash a thousand air strikes against my people-my people, not yours."
"I am one with you, and you know it! Ive proved it. I gave you my husband and Im willing to give you my life."
"Its not terribly difficult to give away something one despises, Amaya."
"And if I refuse your request, your misplaced demand?"
"Then you will not reach the White House, much less the Oval Office."
"Ridiculous! My access to the White House is guaranteed! The man who accommodates me is committed to the Ravello millions, and hes not a fool."
"And this man, this Senator Nesbitt from the state of Michigan who accommodates you, what do you know about him?"
"You know who he is, then?"
The woman shrugged. "The appointment was changed, Amaya."
"Yes, of course.... He appears to be the usual American politician, and Ive done considerable research. He must be reelected in a state that has widespread unemployment, therefore he has to convince the voters that he deserves his office. What better way than to bring hundreds of millions into a depressed workplace?"
"Yes, youve done your research, my dear. But what of the man himself? Would you say hes a good man, an honest man?"
"I have no idea, nor do I care. I was told he was a lawyer or a judge, if it means anything."
"Not much, there are judges and then there are judges.... Had you ever considered that he might be a Scorpio? That he might be accommodating you because he was ordered to do so?"
"No, that never occurred to me-"
"We know there is a Scorpio in the Senate."
"He would have revealed himself," said Bajaratt defensively. "Why not? Van Nostrand did; he gave me the telephone codes to reach the Scorpios."
"Untraceable satellite transmissions. We know all about them."
"I find that hard to believe-"
"It took us nearly three years, but we finally found and bought our own Scorpion. As a matter of fact, you met her in Florida. Your hostess in Palm Beach. It is a very pleasant estate, is it not? Sylvia and her husband could not possibly afford it without enormous a.s.sistance. The husbands one unique talent was going through an inheritance of over seventy million dollars in less than thirty years. Shes the Social Register Scorpio, unearthed by Van Nostrand. Very useful. Quite simply, we traced her through Van Nostrand, offered more than the Providers, and enlisted an ally."
"She introduced me to Nesbitt-theyre both Scorpions!"
"She is, yes; the senator, absolutely not. It was my idea to fly him down to Palm Beach for what he believes are perfectly legitimate political reasons. He hasnt the slightest idea who you really are or why youre here. He knows only the Countess Cabrini with an immensely wealthy brother in Ravello."
"Then you confirm my judgment. You cannot stop me unless you kill me, and you yourself have accurately described the consequences from the Baaka. I think this conference is at an end. Ive fulfilled my obligation to the Councils, for Ive listened to you!"
"Listen a bit further, Amaya. It will do you no harm and might be instructive." The Arab woman got to her feet slowly, with the grace of a cat, startling Bajaratt with her size. She was short, barely five feet tall, an elegant doll-like figure contrarily projecting immense authority. "We knew you were working with the Scorpions-our Palm Beach ally was apprised of it through Fort Lauderdale immigration-and since we learned of your imminent appearance at the White House, I had to make certain you came here first."
"You knew I would," interrupted the Baj. "Our meeting was scheduled weeks ago in the Baaka, the pertinent information coded in Arabic. Address, day, date, and hour."
"I had every confidence in you, but then I didnt know you; surely you can understand my apprehension. If you had not arrived tonight, a Madame Balzini would have been picked up at the Carillon hotel in the early hours of the morning."
"Balzini ... the Carillon? You knew all that?"
"Certainly not through the Scorpios," the woman replied as she walked across the room to a gold-plated intercom in the wall, "for they didnt know either," she continued, turning back to Bajaratt. "Our friend in Palm Beach called and said even she was having trouble reaching her superiors through the Scorpio telephone codes. In point of fact, she stopped trying for fear of exposure."
"There have been several problems," the Baj offered without further comment.
"Apparently.... However, we had no need of the Scorpions, as you will see." The sleek, diminutive woman reached up without looking and pressed a silver b.u.t.ton on the intercom. "Now, Ahmet," she said, her eyes still on Bajaratt. "What you are about to observe, dear Amaya, is a man with two distinctly different personalities, even ident.i.ties, if you like. The one you already know is as real as the one you are about to observe. The first is a dedicated public servant, an honest man, a good man. The other is someone who has endured the pain of an unfortunate life, no matter his trappings of power.... Unfortunate is inadequate; unbearable is far more appropriate."
Stunned, Bajaratt watched as a man she barely recognized walked down the wide staircase, flanked by the robed servant Ahmet and a striking blond-haired woman dressed in a sheer negligee that revealed the flesh beneath, clearly emphasizing the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and the sinuous movement of her hips. The man was Nesbitt! Each held the senator from Michigan, steadying him down the steps. His face was pale, nearly death-white, his eyes two ceramic b.a.l.l.s devoid of movement, his expression frozen as if in a trance. He wore a bathrobe of blue velveteen; his feet were bare, the veins apparent.
"Hes had his injection," said the Bajs hostess softly. "He wont recognize you."
"Hes drugged?"
"Medically prescribed by an excellent physician. Hes a dual."
"Dual?"
"Dual personality, Amaya. A Jekyll and Hyde without the evil, only with unfulfilled hungers.... Shortly after his marriage more than forty years ago, a tragic event took place, an a.s.sault that left his wife physically and psychologically impaired, in a word, permanently frigid. The act of intercourse was repugnant to her, the mere thought of it sending her into hysterics, and for good reason. She had been raped by a psychopath, a burglar who broke into their apartment, bound the young lawyer, and forced him to watch the rape. From that night on, his wife could not fulfill her marital obligations. Yet he was a devoted husband, and far worse, a religious man; he sought no release from his perfectly natural s.e.xuality. Finally, after she died three years ago, the burden destroyed him, or, I should say, destroyed a part of him."
"How did you find him?"
"There are a hundred senators, and we knew that one of them was a Scorpio. We studied them all, starting alphabetically-every shred of their lives.... Alas, we never found the Scorpion, but we discovered an obviously deeply disturbed man whose frequent and mysterious absences were covered up by the only close friend he had, his housekeeper of twenty-eight years, a woman in her seventies."
Nesbitt and his two guardians reached the bottom of the staircase and walked past the door to the living room. "He sees nothing!" whispered the Baj.
"No, he doesnt," Bajaratts hostess agreed. "In an hour or so he will, although he will not remember the specific events of tonight. He will only realize that hes been satisfied, that inner recognition that produces peace."
"He does this often?"
"Once or twice a month, and usually in the late evenings. At first it started with his humming a strange melody from long ago in his past. Then, like a sleepwalker, he would change his clothes, an entirely different wardrobe he kept in his deceased wifes closet. They were hardly the clothes of a powerful senator, instead the trappings of a well-to-do roue out slumming for the night. A suede or leather jacket, frequently a wig or a beret, always dark gla.s.ses, but never any identification. Those were terrible days for the housekeeper. When it happens now, she calls us and we pick him up."
"She cooperates with you?"
"She has no choice. She is well paid, as is his driver-bodyguard."
"And so you control him."
"Were very special friends. Were there when he needs us, and there are times such as now when we need him, need the power of his office."
"I can see that," said Bajaratt icily.
"Of course, the optimum would be to learn who in the Senate is the highest-placed Scorpio, for as the Providers control him, so can we. However, its only a matter of time before a pattern is established, no matter how subtle. Your own actions will help us, as every member of that body will be studied anew, and in their reactions to the chaos will be found the weakness that attracted Van Nostrand."
"Is it so important to you?"
"Make no mistake, dear Amaya, its of vital importance. I repeat what I said before, we have great sympathy as well as close ties to the Baaka, but these do not extend to the mercenary Scorpions. They are the creation of Van Nostrand and his mad companion in the Caribbean, recruited by blackmail and kept on their tethers with money-money that pales into insignificance compared to the money they make for the Providers, who, in reality, have always been the padrone and Van Nostrand, no one else. The Scorpios have no cause but fear of exposure and, of course, the money they receive. Such people have no calling beyond themselves, beyond their petty little lives, driven by greed and anxiety. They must be destroyed, or rendered impotent ... or recruited by us."
"I remind you," interrupted the Baj. "The Scorpios have served me well, and by doing so have served the Baaka through me."
"Ordered to do so by the all-powerful Van Nostrand. He can cut off their funds with a telephone call, to say nothing of revealing their crimes-past and present-to the authorities. Do you think they give a d.a.m.n about us, about the things we hold so dear? If you do, youre not the woman I was led to believe you are."
"Van Nostrand has retired. Hes somewhere in Europe, or he is dead. Hes no longer Scorpio One."
"... Palm Beachs trouble with the telephone codes," said the diminutive, catlike Arab, barely audible. "Thats astonishing news-are you sure?"
"Whether hes alive or dead, I cant be certain. Another survived, a former intelligence officer named Hawthorne, who I thought had been taken into custody; he hadnt. But Nils Van Nostrand is gone; he told me himself he was going to disappear."
"Not only astonishing, but extremely disturbing. As long as Van Nostrand was in place, we could monitor him; we had people at his estate, at the gate, informers loyal to us.... Who are you dealing with now? You must tell me!"
"I dont know-"
"The White House, Amaya!"
"Im not lying to you. You say you have the codes, dial them yourself. Whoever answers certainly will not volunteer his ident.i.ty."
"Youre right, of course-"
"I can tell you that the Scorpio I last spoke with is a man so privileged as to be given the most secret information. He had details about the governments progress in its search for me; they were accurate details. He called it the inner circle."
"The inner circle ...?" The Palestinian beauty frowned, producing few lines on her dark, cla.s.sic features. "The inner circle," she repeated as she walked across the immense room in thought, her small, lacquer-tipped fingers brought to her dainty chin. "If its the senator were looking for, theres only one committee thats accorded such cla.s.sified information. Senate Intelligence. Of course, its so natural, so brilliantly simple! Since the scandals of Watergate and Iran-contra, every agency in Washington makes sure it reports the details of its covert operations to Senate Intelligence. They cant afford not to; none cares to be left facing accusations of illegality in front of the entire Congress.... You see, dear Amaya, already youve been of immense help."
"Further, he is a man who kills, at least thats what he told me. He said he killed a man named Stevens, the head of naval intelligence, because this Stevens had come close to finding me. For that I owe him."
"You owe him nothing! He was following orders, thats all he was doing.... Whether he told you the truth, or lied to you so you would be beholden to him, is immaterial. Theres only one man in the Senate who would speak in such crude, bravado terms, and weve studied them all.... Seebank, the intolerable, ill-tempered General Seebank. Thank you, Baj."
"If it is he, I should also tell you I gave him a test of his commitment to me. As you may know, in certain military situations where its imperative to eliminate an obstacle, even a command post, a man is chosen to walk into a compound, knowing he will not walk out. It is in his footwear."
"The Allah Boot," the Palestinian said. "Explosives packed into the sole and the heel, set off by kicking the toe into a solid object. Death to the wearer and everyone in the vicinity."
"Yes, I even provided him with a blueprint." The Baj nodded slowly. "If he sends back the authentic article, I will know I can trust him. If not, I will break off all communication. Should he be true, I shall use him ... and you will have your Scorpio."
"Is there no end to your skills, Amaya?"
"Muerte a toda autoridad, thats all you have to know."
28.
Senator Paul Seebank walked down the country road on the outskirts of Rockville, Maryland, the afternoon dark, the sky heavy with clouds. He carried a flashlight which he continuously, nervously snapped on and off. His brush-cut gray hair was covered by a walking cap, his chiseled features concealed by the upturned lapels of a lightweight summer raincoat. In truth, the lean, tough, former Brigadier General See-bank, now the lean, tough, outspoken Senator Seebank, was in panic, close to losing his equilibrium. He could not stop the trembling in his hands, or halt the progressively obvious tic that drew down his lower right lip in short, abrupt spasms.
He had to keep his thoughts focused; he could not lose control. Yet he could not contain his dread at becoming Scorpio One.
The madness had started eight years before on this very road-where it led to a dilapidated sh.e.l.l of a long-deserted barn in the long-abandoned fields of a long-forgotten farm, now merely the unused, infertile acres of some estate, more interested in gardens than in crops.
It had been initiated by a frighteningly obtuse telephone call on his private office line, the sacrosanct line of a newly elected senator that rang only at his desk, a standard privilege for family and very close friends. However, the caller had not been a member of his family or a friend at all; he was a stranger who introduced himself as Neptune.
"We watched your campaign for the Senate with great interest, General."
"Who the h.e.l.l are you and how did you get this number?"
"Thats irrelevant, our business is not. I suggest we meet as soon as possible, for my superiors are most anxious that we make contact."
"And I suggest you pound sand!"
"Then I must further suggest that you examine the basis, the essence, of your campaign for your office. The heroic prisoner of war in Vietnam who kept his men together under intolerable conditions through sheer leadership and his own personal courage. We have friends in Hanoi, Senator. Need I say more?"
"What the h.e.l.l ...?"
"Theres an old barn on a road outside the town of Rockville-"
G.o.dd.a.m.n it! What did they know?