The Eleventh Commandment (1998) (8 page)

‘Well, let’s assume that the kidnapper demands a million dollars - kidnappers always ask for a round figure, usually in US dollars. Like any professional negotiator, my primary responsibility is to get the best possible deal. And the most important element of that is making sure that the company’s employee comes to no harm. But I would never allow things to reach the negotiation stage if I felt that my client could be released without the company having to hand over a penny. The more you pay out, the more likely it is that the criminal will repeat the exercise a few months later, sometimes kidnapping exactly the same person.’

‘How often do you reach the negotiating stage?’

‘About 50 per cent of the time. That’s the point when you discover whether or not you’re dealing with professionals. The longer you can stretch out the negotiations, the more likely it is that amateurs will become anxious about being caught. And after a few days they often grow to like the person they’ve kidnapped, which makes it almost impossible for them to carry out their original plan. In the Peruvian Embassy siege, for example, they ended up holding a chess competition, and the terrorists won.’

All three of them laughed, which helped Maggie to relax a little.

‘Is it the pros or the amateurs who send ears through the post?’ asked Stuart with a wry smile.

‘I’m happy to say I didn’t represent the company that negotiated on behalf of Mr Getty’s grandson. But even when I’m dealing with a pro, some of the best cards will still be in my hand.’ Connor hadn’t noticed that his wife and daughter had allowed their coffee to go cold.

‘Please continue,’ said Stuart.

‘Well, the majority of kidnaps are one-off affairs, and although they’re nearly always carried out by a professional criminal, he may have little or no experience of how to negotiate in a situation like that. Professional criminals are almost always over-confident. They imagine they can handle anything. Not unlike a lawyer who thinks he can open a restaurant simply because he eats three meals a day.’

Stuart smiled. ‘So what do they settle for once they realise they’re not going to get the mythical million?’

‘I can only speak from my own experience,’ said Connor. ‘I usually end up handing over around a quarter of the sum demanded - in used, traceable notes. On a few occasions I’ve parted with as much as half. Only once did I agree to hand over the full amount. But in my defence, counsel, on that particular occasion even the island’s Prime Minister was taking a cut.’

‘How many of them get away with it?’

‘Of the cases I’ve handled over the past seventeen years, only three, which works out at roughly 8 per cent.’

‘Not a bad return. And how many clients have you lost?’

They were now entering territory even Maggie hadn’t ventured onto before, and she began to shift uneasily in her chair.

‘If you do lose a client, the company backs you to the hilt,’ said Connor. He paused. ‘But they don’t allow anyone to fail twice.’

Maggie rose from her place, turned to Connor and said, ‘I’m going for a swim. Anyone care to join me?’

‘No, but I’d like another go on the board,’ said Tara, eagerly assisting her mother’s attempt to end the interrogation.

‘How many times did you fall in this morning?’ Connor asked, confirming that he also thought it had gone quite far enough.

‘A dozen or more,’ said Tara. ‘That was the worst one.’ She pointed proudly to a large bruise on her right thigh.

‘Why did you let her go that far, Stuart?’ asked Maggie, sitting back down to take a closer look at the bruise.

‘Because it gave me the chance to rescue her and look heroic.’

‘Be warned, Stuart, she’ll have mastered surfing by the end of the week, and she’ll end up rescuing you,’ said Connor with a laugh.

‘I’m well aware of that,’ Stuart replied. ‘But the moment it happens I plan to introduce her to bungee jumping.’

Maggie turned visibly white, and quickly looked in Connor’s direction.

‘Don’t worry, Mrs Fitzgerald,’ Stuart added quickly. ‘You’ll all be back in America long before then.’ None of them wanted to be reminded.

Tara grabbed Stuart by the arm. ‘Let’s go, Superman. It’s time to find another wave you can rescue me from.’

Stuart leapt up. Turning to Connor, he said, ‘If you ever discover your daughter’s been kidnapped, I won’t be demanding a ransom, and I won’t be willing to settle - in US dollars or any other currency.’

Tara blushed. ‘Come on,’ she said, and they ran down the beach towards the breakers.

‘And for the first time, I don’t think I’d try to negotiate,’ Connor said to Maggie, stretching and smiling.

‘He’s a nice young man,’ said Maggie, taking his hand. ‘It’s just a pity he’s not Irish.’

‘It could have been worse,’ said Connor, rising from his chair. ‘He might have been English.’

Maggie smiled as they began walking towards the surf. ‘You know, she didn’t get home until five this morning.’

‘Don’t tell me you still lie awake all night whenever your daughter goes out on a date,’ said Connor with a grin.

‘Keep your voice down, Connor Fitzgerald, and try to remember she’s our only child.’

‘She’s not a child any longer, Maggie,’ he said. ‘She’s a grown woman, and in less than a year she’ll be Dr Fitzgerald.’

‘And you don’t worry about her, of course.’

‘You know I do,’ said Connor, taking her in his arms. ‘But if she’s having an affair with Stuart - which is none of my business - she could have done a lot worse.’

‘I didn’t sleep with you until the day we were married, and even when they told me you were missing in Vietnam, I never looked at another man. And it wasn’t because of a lack of offers.’

‘I know, my darling,’ said Connor. ‘But by then you’d realised I was irreplaceable.’

Connor released his wife and ran towards the waves, making sure he always remained just one stride ahead of her. When she finally caught up with him, she was out of breath.

‘Declan O’Casey proposed to me long before …’

‘I know, my darling,’ he replied, looking down into her green eyes and brushing back a stray wisp of hair. ‘And never a day goes by when I’m not thankful that you waited for me. It was the one thing that kept me alive after I’d been captured in ‘Nam. That and the thought of seeing Tara.’

Connor’s words reminded Maggie of the sadness she had felt at her miscarriages and the knowledge that she couldn’t have any more children. She had been brought up in a large family, and longed to have a brood herself. She could never accept her mother’s simple philosophy - it’s God’s will.

While Connor had been away in Vietnam, she had spent many happy hours with Tara. But the moment he returned the young madam had transferred her affections overnight, and although she remained close to her daughter, Maggie knew that she could never have the same relationship with Tara that Connor enjoyed.

When Connor signed up with Maryland Insurance as a management trainee, Maggie had been puzzled by his decision. She had always thought that, like his father, Connor would want to be involved in law enforcement. That was before he explained who he would really be working for. Although he didn’t go into great detail, he did tell her who his paymaster was, and the significance of being a non-official cover officer, or NOC. She kept his secret loyally over the years, though not being able to discuss her husband’s profession with her friends and colleagues was sometimes a little awkward. But she decided this was a minor inconvenience, compared with what so many other wives were put through by husbands only too happy to discuss their work in endless detail. It was their extracurricular activities they wanted to keep secret.

All she really hoped was that one day her daughter would find someone willing to wait on a park bench all night just to see her draw a curtain.

J
ACKSON LIT A CIGARETTE
, and listened carefully to every word the man from the White House had to say. He made no attempt to interrupt him.

When Lloyd eventually came to the end of his prepared piece, he took a sip of the
acqua minerale
in front of him and waited to hear what the former Deputy Director of the CIA’s first question would be.

Jackson stubbed out his cigarette. ‘May I ask why you thought I was the right person for this assignment?’

Lloyd was not taken by surprise. He had already decided that if Jackson asked that particular question, he would simply tell the truth. ‘We know that you resigned your post with the CIA because of a … difference of opinion’ - he emphasised the words - ‘with Helen Dexter, despite the fact that your record with the Agency had been exemplary, and until then you were considered her natural successor. But since resigning for reasons that on the face of it seem somewhat bizarre, I believe you have not been able to find a job worthy of your qualifications. We suspect that Dexter also has something to do with that.’

‘It only takes one phone call,’ said Jackson, ‘off the record, of course - and suddenly you find you’ve been removed from any shortlist. I’ve always been wary of speaking ill of the living, but in the case of Helen Dexter, I’m happy to make an exception.’ He lit another cigarette. ‘You see, Dexter believes that Tom Lawrence has the second most important job in America,’ he continued. ‘
She
is the true defender of the faith, the nation’s last bastion, and to her elected politicians are nothing more than a temporary inconvenience who will, sooner or later, be ejected by the voters.’

‘The President has been made aware of that on more than one occasion,’ Lloyd said, with some feeling.

‘Presidents come and go, Mr Lloyd. My bet is that, like the rest of us, your boss is human, and therefore you can be sure that Dexter will have a file on him which is filled with the reasons why Lawrence isn’t qualified for a second term. And by the way, she’ll have one almost as thick on you.’

‘Then we’ll have to start building up our own file, Mr Jackson. I can think of no one better qualified to carry out the task.’

‘Where would you like me to begin?’

‘By investigating who was behind the assassination of Ricardo Guzman in Bogota last month,’ said Lloyd. ‘We have reason to believe that the CIA might have been involved, directly or indirectly.’

‘Without the President’s knowledge?’ said Jackson in disbelief.

Lloyd nodded, removed a file from his briefcase and slid it across the table. Jackson flicked it open.

‘Take your time,’ said Lloyd, ‘because you’re going to have to memorise everything.’

Jackson began reading, and started making observations even before he had come to the end of the first page.

‘If we assume that it was a lone gunman, trying to get any reliable information will be virtually impossible. That sort of character doesn’t leave a forwarding address.’ Jackson paused. ‘But if it
is
the CIA we’re dealing with, then Dexter has a ten-day start on us. She’s probably already turned every avenue that might lead to the assassin into a blind alley - unless …’

‘Unless … ?’ echoed Lloyd.

‘I’m not the only person that woman has crossed over the years. It’s just possible that there might be someone else based in Bogota who - ‘ He paused. ‘How long have I got?’

‘The new President of Colombia is making an official visit to Washington in three weeks’ time. It would help if we had something by then.’

‘It’s already beginning to feel like the old days,’ said Jackson as he stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Except this time there’s the added pleasure of Dexter being officially on the other side.’ He lit another cigarette. ‘Who will I be working for?’

‘Officially you’re freelance, but unofficially you work for me. You’ll be paid at the same level as you were when you left the Agency, your account credited on a monthly basis, although for obvious reasons your name won’t appear on any books. I’ll contact you whenever …’

‘No you won’t, Mr Lloyd,’ said Jackson. ‘I’ll contact
you
whenever I have anything worthwhile to report. Two-way contacts only double the chance of someone stumbling across us. All I’ll need is an untraceable phone number.’

Lloyd wrote down seven figures on a cocktail napkin. ‘This gets straight through to my desk, bypassing even my secretary. After midnight it’s automatically transferred to a phone by the side of my bed. You can call me night or day. You needn’t bother about the time difference when you’re abroad, because I don’t care about being woken up.’