Part 23 (1/2)
Canvas winced, surprising the man who considered him unflappable. ”My end is the most screwed of all. No time to train proper, no physical simuls, barely time to get my facilitators in place.”
”Then, what will you do?”
Canvas looked out at the water as they talked, longing to be in the South Pacific, on the island for which he was meeting with a broker that afternoon to make the first payment.
”Canvas?”
He turned back to the German. ”I've walked the box four times. Given videos and stills from all nests to each of my people. And I've given instructions to my primary that if the target is still intact after the nests speak, then he's to use his RPG to settle the matter properlike.” He smiled. ”Made in Taiwan, if you're interested.”
The German nodded sagely. ”And if that fails?”
Canvas smiled spasmodically; a sickly, convulsive thing. ”Then we have the team at the hospital-either in initial treatment or during recovery.”
”And if the worst happens, if the target is completely intact when he leaves your box.”
The German had been handpicked by General Xi for his coloration, true enough; but more important, for his thoroughness and eye for detail. ”If there is no need for the hospital or they go to a different hospital? What then?”
The a.s.sa.s.sin/planner slowly shook his head. ”No chance of that, is there? Not with my boys in the nests. At worst, the target comes out wounded and we get him at our hospital.”
”Still,” the German pressed, knowing that Xi would ask the question later, when he reported by satellite burst transmission.
”Well,” the bigger man said pleasantly, ”I imagine you'll have me killed then, won't you? Or will it just be a refund with penalty?”
”And if you were in our position?”
Canvas nodded. ”Of course.”
They started back for the boat.
”I still am not completely comfortable with all these faces knowing each other,” the German said, looking over at the group that was talking among themselves. ”After, uh, zero, pressures could be brought to bear.”
”I know.” He exhaled deeply as he thought of himself swimming naked in his private lagoon. ”Been taken care of already.” He stopped a little way off from the group. ”I've got a question for you.” He looked deeply into the German's eyes. ”Can you do this thing you have to?”
The German nodded solemnly. ”As with the others,” it would've been nicer, certainly more convenient, if I had another six months, or even a year. But... He looked into the woods behind the beach. ”This is the fruition of thirty-one years work. I have been in place-waiting-for the last seven of them. If I cannot do it now, I could not do it better fourteen months from now.”
Canvas looked at the committed man, thought about the fanged demons that drove him, the long-bred discipline of his people, his culture. His sellout/buy-in with the Chinese. A merging of their ideology with the man's lack of any true belief.
Then he laughed.
Because with all of that, they'd still had to come to him when their geometric logic had threatened to come cras.h.i.+ng down around them.
”Your daddy really a n.a.z.i?”
The German shrugged. ”Not in a noticeably provable way. But what if he was?” The man seemed relaxed for the first time. ”In this country, every man is judged as himself; not as his father's son.”
”G.o.d bless America, Canvas said affably to the German's discomfort.”
Ten minutes later he watched them reboard the small boat. Standing on the beach-watching silently, thought-fully-until they disappeared around the point for the covert rendezvous. Knowing that-other than the German-he would never see any of them alive again.
”I will miss Lissy, though,” he mumbled as he turned and started back.
Clearing his mind of everything but squirrels, vulnerabilities, and Pacific islands for the rest of the afternoon.
3 Hours 40 Minutes to Zero
Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.
”Where are we supposed to be, Michael?” DeWitt asked as he straightened his tie.
”Car's waiting, sir.” The personal aide had already made his-as usual-thorough preparations. ”Twenty-minute drive, then the seminar, then brunch with selected members of the host committee.”
The attorney general nodded. ”Right.” He exhaled a deep, cleansing breath. ”Any updates?”
”No, sir. Not on anything.”
DeWitt nodded. ”Okay.” He started to pour himself his second vodka of the early morning.
”Uh, sir. Maybe not today?” Michael braced for an outburst.
Instead, the man looked down at his hand on the bottle, then slowly drew it away. ”You're right.”
Thirty minutes later, joined by an equally tense Buckley and Kingston, DeWitt took his place on the dais.
”Good morning,” the youngish moderator said pleasantly. ”And welcome to our third in a series of meetings with”-a dramatic pause-”our leaders of tomorrow. Our guests today are Attorney General Jefferson DeWitt; the junior senator from Colorado, Rod Buckley; and the director of the Peace Corps and former counsel to the president, Lane Kingston.”
After the applause the man sat down. ”Before we begin the questioning, we'll hear briefly from each of our guests. Director Kingston?”
Kingston smiled. ”I'm very pleased to be here today, Carl. My job is directly linked to the topic of these meetings... addressing the future of the world. A thought never far from my mind. Because it is the next generation that will lead us through the early days of the new millennium. And it is the youth of the world-which I hope I'm not too far removed from”-light laughter from the crowd-”that we must turn to for new ideas, new appeals, new ways of looking at things in order for us to move forward into the new, American century.”
Enthusiastic applause, as the moderator turned to Buckley.
”Well,” the senator said as he checked a note from his aide, ”leaders.h.i.+p is what this is all about. Isn't it? But the form of that leaders.h.i.+p is what concerns me. Will the next wave or whatever you call them merely be parrots of the old strictures and tired concepts, or will they be able to see things with new eyes? Young, fresh eyes, which will recognize that in our uncertain future old enemies might become our friends, and old friends might well become enemies.”
Sage nods from around the room. ”Personally I hope for a new generation of leaders.h.i.+p that is both flexible and thoughtful. A generation that will lead America forward, and not remain too trapped in the past.”
”Mr. Attorney General, the moderator said, nodding to DeWitt.”
DeWitt grinned. ”Sounds like a presidential debate to me.”