Dagon Rising(35)
“Well, it’s a good thing they like me, then. Remember—I’m special.”
The two laughed and sipped their drinks. The plane dipped, buffeted by slight turbulence, and then straight-ened out again. The ice cubes rattled in Clark’s glass. For a moment, he thought he saw something flash outside the plane’s window, as if all of the stars had blurred, but when Clark turned to look, he could see nothing amiss.
Tony stared at him. “What are you looking at? I got a booger hanging out of my nose or something?”
“No,” Clark explained. “I thought I saw something outside the window. Guess it was nothing.”
“So how long you been a Secret Service agent?” Tony asked.
“Almost thirty years.”
“You don’t look that old.”
“I age well.”
Tony nodded, took a sip of his drink. “I knew a guy back home, in my old life, that reminds me of you. Tommy Banalli. Guy’s old enough to be my fucking father and he doesn’t look a day over thirty.”
“I’ve used my youthful appearance to my advantage many times,” Clark said. He could sense Ruby and Onyx behind them. Up front, Diamond and Amethyst had come out of their trance. Both were awake now, and speaking to one another in low tones. It was no use trying to overhear their conversation. The minute he slipped into some resemblance of surveillance, Ruby would know. Likewise, any kind of subtle communication he passed on to Tony and vice versa would be picked up on. Everything he’d heard about Black Lodge was right.
“Maybe we should watch what we say,” Clark suggested.
“Fuck that. These spooks already know we’re going to talk about them, so let’s fucking talk about them some more.” Tony’s tone of voice was jovial, conversational, with a real touch of I-don’t-give-a-shit to it. Clark admired that. “How’d you know who they were when they captured you?”
“I’d heard the rumors,” Clark said, the truth spilling out of him. He took a sip of his own drink. “You work Secret Service detail or any other alphabet government agency, you’ll hear stories about Black Lodge. I had a hunch.”
“And you were really staking my place out?”
“Yep.”
“You fixing to bop me upside the head to get to Livingston?”
“I was.”
Clark glanced at Tony and met his gaze. The ex-wiseguy had a hard edge; his gaze never wavered, his eyes never left their mark as he tried to stare Clark down. Clark stared back, not really giving a shit anymore. After a moment, Tony shrugged, still not dropping his stare. “I gotta admit…if it weren’t for these fucks, and you’d come busting in there, I’d have scragged your ass.”
“I know.” Clark kept his gaze on Tony, reading his posture, his body language, the way he carried himself. He’d learned much from Scott’s dossier, and he’d learned even more in the week of observing Tony from afar. Sitting next to the man, face to face, gave him the whole picture. Tony Genova was a man he needed on his side. Yes, he would have killed Tony had he not given him what he wanted and had Black Lodge not intervened. A lot had changed since then.
“You know, I got to hand it to you,” Tony said, sipping his drink. “This is the first time I’ve had the rug pulled out from under me like this. These fucking spooks, they’re something else. I thought they were my FBI handlers.”
“That’s what I thought,” Clark said. He told Tony an abbreviated version of how he’d staked Tony’s condominium unit, watching his movements. Tony nodded, taking it all in.
“But they got one on you, too,” Tony said quietly. “Right?”
“Yes, they did.” And he was ashamed to admit, it was the first time somebody had gotten one over him, too.
“Did you really kill all those RNC people like that Onyx guy says?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“About eight.”
“They know it’s you?”
“Not yet,” Clark said, thinking about the RNC underlings and their relentless investigation. “A few of them might suspect. Donald Barker has to suspect something.”
“What the fuck happened to that guy anyway?”
“He’s in a secret government detention center,” Clark said. “Possibly Guantanamo Bay.”
“With the terrorists?”
“Yep.”
“Aren’t they supposed to be shutting that place down?”
Clark shrugged.
Tony shook his head. “And you thought you could use me as a bargaining chip to get Livingston to spring him or something, so you could kill him?”