Happy to have the situation somewhat stabilized and still have his head attached to his shoulders, Reyland was turning from the table when the infinitely rich old blue-eyed Brit stood.
“Robert, wait. I’ll walk you out,” he said.
Oh, boy, Reyland thought. An audience with His Serene Eminence. What now? he thought as the rich man stepped over.
The old man put his arms behind his back in a formal, almost military posture as they walked slowly alongside the arcade games.
“Tell me, who is your contact on the London end? That Watkins fellow?” he said.
“No, Wrenhall,” Reyland said. “Brooke Wrenhall.”
“Ah, yes. Ms. Wrenhall. She is quite good. Sharp. Yes. Quite sharp. Her father worked for me once years ago. Or was it her grandfather?” the billionaire said, wrinkling his brow.
They continued walking.
“I’m sorry to further burden you, Robert, but I have a question concerning the director’s plane.”
“Of course,” Reyland said, stooping to listen.
“I was told that this Mr. Biyombo individual brought a package with him out of the Congo. Is that true?”
“Yes,” Reyland said, nodding. “He did.”
“May I ask how you know this?”
“I was on the phone with Dunning before they took off,” Reyland said. “Biyombo showed him the case. The director told me there was what appeared to be a very large amount of diamonds inside of it.”
The rich man nodded.
“And your report said this case is still missing?”
“Yes. Along with the money. We’re still looking. As I mentioned, we still have a team down in the islands working solely on that,” Reyland said as they made the top of the stairs.
The ghostly blue-eyed man nodded again.
“Now, this is just an ancillary matter, Robert, but we believe Biyombo’s diamonds were actually stolen from a convoy out of one of our mines on the Zaire border three years ago.”
Reyland blinked as he thought of whom the rich man meant by the word our.
“If you come across these diamonds in your travels, Robert, I would be forever in your debt if you brought them directly to me.”
Forever in debt to a man with an infinite amount of money, Reyland thought, looking into the icy blue of the man’s eyes.
It was here, Reyland realized.
The opportunity that he had always dreamed of but was hesitant to ever actually expect, even to himself.
He would be a player. That was what he was being offered here. World-Class Player Status.
If he retrieved Biyombo’s satchel, he would get his own golden passport into the sky city.
He thought about the boathouse again, about the fireflies.
“I’ll make it a priority, sir,” Reyland said with an impossible-to-hide smile as he started down the steps.