Edge of Tomorrow (56 page)

“Important?” asked Sara.

“I don’t know. Probably. It’s the President
again. I’d better go talk to him.”

He left the women in the Triple Eye lounge as
he went to find a private office. The lounge had a full bar,
replete with a bartender. There were hot and cold free hors
d’oeuvres, just like Happy Hour. Several off-duty employees were
sitting around small round tables sipping drinks and munching on
nuts. Syd and Sara ordered strawberry daiquiris and found
themselves a table away from the others.

“Does the President call Hatch often?” asked
Syd.

“Oh, no! He
never
calls Hatch,
or
the reclusive billionaire Van Lincoln. He
calls a voice named ‘Bob’ and pours out whatever his current
unsolvable problem is. He has no idea who he’s talking to,” laughed
Sara.

“How weird! Why would he do that?”

“
Frustration, I guess. This is a new
thing: the President having a Blue Phone. The highjacking in Cuba,
for example, was his first call. The Prez has a Blue Phone with a
speed dial hardwired to Hatch’s pager. Whenever he has an
overwhelming problem where politics get in the way of solving it,
he can call ‘Bob.’”

Syd mused, “I wonder what’s going on
now?”

“We’ll know soon enough if Hatch wants us to
know,” answered Sara as she took a slurp of her drink. “He doesn’t
have to act on the President’s problems. Some things we can’t
solve.”

“I hope it doesn’t fuck things up. I was
going to see if Hatch would take us nightclubbing tonight. Maybe do
some dancing and singing,” grinned Syd.

• • •

Hatch had a long face when he returned 15
minutes later. The two women watched as he ordered a Stoli on the
rocks from the bartender. He joined them at their round table.

“Well?” asked Syd, impatient to know if the
evening she had planned was a possibility.

“In a minute. I asked Carmelo to join us.
He’ll be here shortly. That way, I won’t have to say things
twice.”

“That sounds ominous,” clucked Sara. “Here’s
Carmelo now. Get a drink, Carmelo, and join us.”

When they were settled, Hatch said, “I have
two subjects to cover, but they are related. First, the President.
It seems that the Carfagno letter is causing an international
incident—not just a shooting in our castle. Bronson did his
research, by the way, so the President also knows about Lucchese.
The Carfagno letter was tested and is authentic—at least it was
written when it was purported to have been written. By the way,
that document we rescued on the airliner in Cuba was the Carfagno
letter. What a coincidence. The Italian government knows the U.S.
has it and they want it so they can take it to the Hague. They are
being obstinate and want to reclaim Monterra.”

“So, why does the President care?” asked
Carmelo.

“There’s more,” replied Hatch. “In 1996,
Monterra signed an agreement with Libya to buy certain products
from them exclusively: oil, gasoline, many food products. About 80%
of Monterra’s imports are from Libya. In return, Libya promised to
defend Monterra against any problems with outsiders.”

“There’s a pact with the devil. The treaty
with Italy has a protection clause, too,” Syd reminded them.

“Not much good if Italy tries to fuck them,”
murmured Sara.

“Right,” said Hatch. “So, the way the
U.S. sees the situation unfolding is that the Italians will make a
big push before the Court, saying that the Prince of Monterra must
have
di
Conti
blood. They will demand that Prince
Giuliano II submit to a DNA test. To do that, the crypt of Alfonso
di Conti must be opened. They expect the Prince to resist that,
using troops from Libya if necessary. The CIA expects that at that
point, Lucchese will come forward and make
his
claim before the Court, demanding a DNA test
for himself.”

“What a bag of shit,” said Sara. “It sets the
stage for a showdown between Libya and Italy, with the Lucchese
factor complicating everything.”

Hatch nodded. “The President is only six
months into his first—and possibly last—term in office, and he
doesn’t want a war in the Ligurian Sea to happen on his watch. He
might have a chance at the UN Security Council, but they usually
don’t like to mess with decisions of the Court in The Hague. Plus,
Libya is giving lip service to the ongoing Middle East peace
accords, so no one wants to piss them off. The Lucchese claim will
throw a monkey wrench into everything.”

“This is all very interesting, Hatch,”
observed Sara, “but I don’t see how Lincoln’s Liberators can rescue
this. It’s not our kind of gig.”

“It is a different sort of challenge—you’re
right about that,” agreed Hatch. “Very political. We may not be
able to solve it, particularly the Italy/Monterra squabble. But the
Lucchese thing is even more worrisome. Can you imagine Lucchese in
charge of that billion dollar economy, and all of those
casinos?”

Syd mused with a wry smile, “The biggest
laundromat in the world! Think of the dirty money he could launder.
I wonder. If you tell the Don about this, what’s to keep him from
making a deal with Lucchese so he can use the laundromat?”

Hatch looked at her and pondered what she had
suggested. He continued to be amazed at how sharp her thinking
process was. He had to come up with a plan that would prohibit
Lucchese from being a player in the Monterra game. Then Tessitore
could not consider a deal with him.

“Good observation, Syd! We’ll have to prevent
that somehow,” Hatch replied. “That’s the only part of this mess we
have a chance of solving. The President may have to solve the war
in the Ligurian Sea himself. I know he hasn’t been in office long,
but I’m not sure he has the guts to solve tough problems. For now,
I’ll have to give him the benefit of the doubt. Solving his
political problems isn’t high on my list of things to do.”

“What’s the second thing you wanted to tell
us?” asked Sara.

Hatch took a swig of his drink and
answered, “I talked to Bruno while I was out of the room. He’s not
thrilled, but he would like to help us, and agrees his grandfather
could probably solve the problem—if he wanted to. He’s going to
talk to his mother and get back to me. He was
not
enthusiastic. I feel like a shit for even
asking him.”

Syd sipped her daiquiri as she pondered the
situation.

“We can always drop in on Lucchese the way
you did on Bocca. Convince him to apply his focus elsewhere,” she
finally said. “I would hate to leave Italy with this unresolved.
Too dangerous for those who must stay here. We owe Angelina
that.”

“Let’s give Bruno some time. Then we’ll
decide what to do,” replied Hatch.

Syd spoke up again, a smile on her lips,
“Then there’s no reason we can’t go out and party tonight, is
there?”

Hatch looked at her and smiled. He knew his
feelings for her were way beyond what she thought they were. It was
hard to not tell her, but he knew the time was not right.

“No reason at all!” he grinned. “I know a
place with strolling singers—with mandolins. Or there’s one with a
piano and violins and an opera singer. What’s your choice?”

Sara laughed, “Give me a mandolin player
anytime.”

Syd countered, “Let’s not be pikers. I’d like
to do both!”

Hatch looked from one to the other, then
said, “Right! We’ll do both!”

• • •

Hatch held Syd in his arms, holding her body
close to his as they danced to a slow song. Sara was playing the
field with several Italian men and having a ball. Syd was aghast at
where Sara let some of them put their hands while she danced with
them. Syd wondered if Sara was going to cut one out of the herd and
bed him before the night was over.

Hatch felt his pager vibrate as the song
ended. It was Bruno. He left Syd and Sara with two of Sara’s male
harem and went to find a quiet place to call Bruno. The men knew
better than to hit on Syd, but she did dance with one of them while
Hatch was gone. She was having a hell of a good time, and the man
kept his hands where they belonged!

Hatch returned after fifteen minutes and sat
down. He signaled the waiter for a fresh round of drinks before he
said anything. Sara shooed her admirers away so Hatch could brief
them on what Bruno had said.

He said, “Bruno’s mother sees this as
an opportunity to make peace with her father after all these years.
She talked to her mother, Elene Tessitore, and her mother
insists
they come. She will handle
the Don. Bruno’s mother needs to clear her appointment calendar.
That will take a couple of days. I called Jane and she will
relinquish her GS-IV to bring them here to Rome. We’ll plan the
assault on Sicily when they get here.”

“That’s great, Hatch!” laughed Sara. “I never
thought this would work.”

“I didn’t either. Of course, it hasn’t
happened yet. Syd, how about one more dance, then let’s call it a
night. Our driver and chopper pilot might want to get some shuteye.
They
are
working stiffs,”
chortled Hatch.

“Sure, Hatch,” replied Syd, a wan smile on
her lips. “Tell them to play a slow one so you can hold me close
again.”

“Er … Hatch,” interrupted Sara. “Is it OK if
I stay in Rome tonight? I need …”

“I know what you need, Sara,” laughed Hatch.
“Do you think that’s wise?”

“What? Being horny? Wise has nothing to do
with it! I fucking haven’t been laid …”

“Stop, Sara! I meant it’s not wise to stay
here in Rome without backup,” said Hatch, laughing harder now.

Sara continued, “… since we got here! Since
before Istanbul, in fact!”

“OK! OK! Look, why don’t you cut one of those
studs out of the pack and bring him back with you? I don’t really
like perfect strangers to stay at the castle, but I don’t feel
right about leaving you here in Rome while this shit remains
unresolved,” replied Hatch in a whisper.

Syd wanted to laugh at their clandestine
conversation. They were negotiating Sara’s sex life! Who, where,
when, how many?

Sara said finally, “OK, Hatch. I’ll go
get the tall one. His name is Nicolo Nono—Nick. And he definitely
won’t say ‘No, no.’ I hope he doesn’t have a three inch dick! If I
had stayed here, I could have tried out them all! Picking
one
is like a fucking
lottery!”

Syd chipped in, “Go line them up and have
them show you what they’ve got, Sara! Long straw wins!”

Syd could not hold back her laughter any
more, and Sara and Hatch joined in. Sara went to fetch Nick while
Hatch and Syd went to the dance floor to dance their last dance of
the night.

• • •

It was 2:30 A.M. when Hatch and Syd
finally settled on the couch in the
King’s
Chambers
, each with a snifter of cognac. Sara had
hustled Nick off to her chambers like a little kid with a lollipop.
Syd hoped her night would be as good as Sara imagined it was going
to be. Syd had kicked off her shoes, removed her dress, and pulled
her legs up under her as she got comfortable. Hatch soaked up her
beauty as she sat next to him in her lacy, black underwear. He was
getting very used to this intimacy with this incredible woman. He
wondered if it was time to tell her how he
really
felt about her.

Would I scare her off if I told her? I
should probably give her more time. I don’t want to risk losing
her!

Syd took a sip of her brandy and said,
“Thank you very much for tonight, Hatch. I
really
had fun! I especially enjoyed watching
the Italian stallions fight for Sara’s attention.” She laughed. “I
hope she picked the right one!”

“When her hormones start kicking in—which is
often—she becomes less selective,” he chortled. “She will be happy
with Nick, I’m sure.”

“I was surprised when you suggested she bring
him here.”

“It was the lesser of two evils,
actually.”

He kicked his shoes off and sipped his
cognac, then arose and got a cigarette and lit it. He returned to
his place next to Syd with an ashtray, which he put on the table in
front of them. Syd was looking wistfully at her bracelet and
feeling a closeness with Hatch she hardly understood. She did not
ever want to be apart from him, even though she knew that was
impossible.

Hatch broke the silence and said, “Oh,
before I forget. I have a dinner appointment in Athens tomorrow
evening—
this
evening, to be
exact. It’s one I made a month ago.”

Syd felt her comfortable glow vanish and her
stomach hit the floor. She even felt lightheaded.

Shit! It’s finally happened! I knew this day
would come! He has a date with a Greek goddess that he made before
he even met me! But why is he bringing it up? He could have claimed
he had a business trip. Why is he throwing this in my face?

“Well,” she snapped, standing and
walking to the side table where his pack of cigarettes was, “I
suppose it’s
much
too
important to cancel! I think it’s pretty tacky of you to bring me
to Rome for the week, then run off to one of your other women
before I’ve even left!”

She got a cigarette and lit it, then blew a
cloud of smoke at the ceiling. She was fuming, so she started to
pace. She knew she was acting irrationally.

“Syd! You didn’t let me finish!” exclaimed a
mortified Hatch as he stood and went toward her. “I was about to
ask you to come with me!”

Syd took a drag from her cigarette and
stifled a cough as she replied, “So! Am I to be part of a
ménage à trois
? I don’t
think
so!”