Storm Front

deal, I honor it,” Zahavi said.
    “What else could you say?” Bauer asked.
    “My organization has a reputation to uphold,” she said. “When we promise to pay, we pay—otherwise, people would stop talking to us.”
    He mulled it over for a while, and eventually said, “Jones has had help in concealing both himself and the stone. A woman. Flowers is working with this woman. Tonight, she agreed to help him recover it. I don’t think she was telling the complete truth, but in any case, at some point tomorrow night, she will be alone with the stone. She doesn’t have it yet, she’ll have to pick it up somewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if Flowers has her under surveillance—or will have her under surveillance tomorrow.”
    “Why would this woman have the stone?”
    “As I understand it, and I don’t have the final details, the bidders will bring their money to the auction, which will be held in a public place. When Jones has seen the money and has accepted the bid, the woman will appear with the stone, and display it. Then Jones will be given the money, and Ma . . . and the woman will deliver the stone. Everybody will probably have guns.”
    “Do you have the money to win the bid?”
    Bauer hesitated, but then thought,
Flowers knows anyway, and if Flowers knows, then the Mossad could know.
“No. I don’t. I planned to show up in my truck, and put the headlights on Jones and the bidders. My camera will be mounted in the truck window, and I’ll make movies of the exchange—I’ll plead with Jones to give me the stone, so it can be saved for posterity. He won’t, of course, but that’s about all I got. I’d rather have the stone. Even temporarily.”
    “If you tell me about this woman, you could have the stone long enough to make a video.”
    Bauer chewed his lower lip, then said, “The exchange is tomorrow at nine o’clock at night. The woman will have to get the stone before then, maybe several hours before. I guess it’s possible that she already has it. She has—”
    He stopped suddenly, and Zahavi cocked her head: “What? Tell me.”
    “I’ve already made arrangements with her to see the stone, and maybe take a few pictures. Not film, just a quick photo.”
    “And who knows this?”
    “Just me . . . and the woman, of course.”
    Zahavi smiled: “So we have it . . . unless Flowers is with her.”
    “No. She won’t let him ride with her—because if she did, he’d just take the stone and the auction would be finished.”
    “But he could have her under surveillance.”
    “He could. But I can tell you something else that would be valuable to you. I found all of this out at the woman’s house. I was talking to her when Flowers showed up, and he forced us to take a deal on giving up the stone. She was going to refuse, unless she got her way. And her way is, let the exchange take place, and then take the stone away from the high bidders. Flowers wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed.”
    “Yes, yes, yes, but what is this valuable other thing?”
    “He wants to make sure that when it all takes place, that he gets the right stone, and nobody tries to give him a fake. So he will have Yael Aronov with him tomorrow evening, to verify the stone. And since Aronov is Israeli, you may have some influence over her. If she could tell us where Flowers is, and whether he’s directing a surveillance of this woman . . .”
    “You’ll have to give me the other woman’s name eventually,” Zahavi said.
    “Sure, but not yet,” Bauer said, crossing his arms over his chest. A signal that he’d taken a position, and wouldn’t give it up.
    “So,” Zahavi said. “Do you know where Yael Aronov stays?”
    “As a matter of fact, I do,” Bauer said.
    —
    V IRGIL WAS still working on the boat, checking screws on the oarlocks, when Awad called, shouting over the sounds of a cowboy band. “I have an emergency. Al-Lubnani is at my apartment. He wishes to speak to me, but I do not wish to speak to him because I am very very very busy. I tell him to speak to you and he says he will.”
    “All right. I’ll go there now,” Virgil said.
    “Thank you. Thank you, my friend. I go now.”
    “Good luck,” Virgil said.
    Al-Lubnani let Virgil into Awad’s apartment and asked, “Do you wish a screwdriver?”
    “Got a beer?”
    “Alas, I do not,” al-Lubnani said.
    Virgil looked in the refrigerator, found a Pepsi, and he and al-Lubnani, carrying a screwdriver, moved to the couch and easy