forward in his chair. “Gentlemen,” he said,
“phase one of the operation has been a success despite the odd hiccup. I
congratulate you on your efforts so far. Let us hope the rest of the operation
runs just as smoothly.”
Four
faces stared back, stony features giving nothing away. No one spoke.
Langdon
fixed his gaze on Peter Holmes. “Peter,” he said, “perhaps a better check on
the detonation systems could be made in the next phase. To avoid anymore of
those...,” he paused, as if trying to choose the right word, “...hiccups.”
Holmes
shifted in his seat, rolling the cigar between his thumb and forefinger. “It
won’t happen again,” he said, “I guarantee it.”
“Thank
you Peter, your guarantee is all that is required.”
“David,”
Langdon turned his attention to the arms dealer, “has all the necessary
equipment arrived yet?”
“There’s
just one more shipment to be delivered,” Eastman said, his eyes not leaving
Langdon’s, “it’s in transit, and should arrive in the next twenty four hours.”
“Good,
good. We don’t want to cut things too fine.”
He
turned to Winters . “Nigel, I know the bulk of the
planning is over, but is there anything in your opinion that may need to be
looked at further?”
“As
long as the rest of the bombs go up as they are supposed to,” he shot a glance
at Holmes who appeared not to notice, “then everything will be just fine. The
men on the ground will be drilled well enough to sort out any little problems as
they arise.”
“Well
if you need any more resources, men or materials,” Langdon said, “I’m sure
Peter will be only too happy to oblige.”
Winters
nodded, Holmes grunted and waved an affirmative cigar in the air leaving a
trail of smoke as if to underline the gesture.
Langdon
turned to the last of the arrivals. “Rupert,” he said, “I’ll let you know the
exact weight of the consignment first thing tomorrow. I trust you’ve had your
nose to the proverbial grindstone in order to dispose of it?”
Shaw
smiled. “Yes of course. I have several contacts who are interested, but I won’t
know how many to call until I get the weight. Tomorrow you say. I don’t
envisage any problems.”
“Excellent,
excellent.” Langdon stood and walked to one of the mullioned, wood framed windows and
clasped his hands behind his back. The look on his face was one of a man who
was exceedingly pleased with himself. It was a look not unlike those adorning
the rank of ancestral portraits hanging pompously on the wood panelled walls.
He stared out of the window knowing four sets of eyes would be fixed on his
back. It won’t do any harm, he thought, for them to wait for the information
they had come to hear. A little reminder of whose operation this is, and who is
in charge.
Across
a well tended lawn, his guest’s cars were parked neatly on the wide sweeping
drive, a short covered walk from the marble steps leading into the reception
hall. Two chauffeurs were standing together, using one of the pillars as a
leaning post, chatting and smoking, getting on a lot better than their
employers. Two other men, both big, both bodyguards, stood by their charges’
cars, their gazes directed at the tree line and occasionally at the upper
floors of the house.
As
he watched, two herons, plumage highlighted by the last rays of the sinking
sun, flew over the lush green lawns and splashed to a clumsy halt at the edge
of a man made lake in the grounds of the house. The birds held his attention
for several seconds before he turned and faced the men at the table.
“Gentlemen,”
he said, “tomorrow morning as per our agreement, I will deposit two million
pounds sterling into your respective bank accounts.” He looked around at the
faces. Only one, Winters , showed any discernable
change. Probably the biggest payday he has ever had, or ever likely to have
again, Langdon thought. He continued, “The next payment will be made after the
successful completion of