17 Sept 90—NEW YORK CITY
This time Devereaux walked into Dougherty’s at ten A.M. and the day bartender nodded at him and pointed toward the back room.
Devereaux pushed open the door. Mickey Connors sat alone at a small desk with a business checkbook in front of him. He was peering at a sheet of paper. He put the paper down and looked up and tried a small smile. Devereaux sat down in the hard wooden chair across the desk from him.
“The trouble with this business is everyone gets the attitude that stealing is all right to do,” Mickey Connors said. He shook his head. “They steal a little and I let ’em and then, every now and then, they start to steal too much.”
“You should deal with a better class of people.”
“There ain’t no better class. Everyone’s a thief when it comes down to it.”
“Who’s stealing?”
“Ah, just the boys running the bar. I’ll have a word with them. Or maybe I’ll let Kevin have a word with them. You gotta exercise a young fella like Kevin, like a good racehorse, let him feel his oats now and then.”
Devereaux waited. It was Thursday and he had met twice with Mickey Connors and had no idea where any of this was going. Maybe Pendleton had no idea either but he doubted that.
“All right. Now our business.” He took off his glasses and laid them on the desk.
“What is our business?”
“You put away a Soviet agent ten years ago. His name was Denisov. Does it ring a bell?”
“Why should it?”
“Because he’s trying to get in the trade and I think the field is too crowded the way it is now. He’s out in California where your Section stashed him ten years ago. For the last six months, the trade is talking about something coming out of Japan that we want. We all want.”
“What do we want?”
“Nobody knows exactly. But this big Jap outfit called Masatata Heavy Industries is developing something. The thing is, it’s a secret but it has to do with cryptography. They’re making some kind of code machine. The Japs been getting our superconductor chips even though the American companies that make them been told not to sell them abroad. You see the way of it, boy? The world is full of thieves and nobody obeys the rules.” He shook his head at the perfidy of mankind.
Then smiled in a slow, secret way. “Langley has heard about it but they’ve got no contact with this fella Denisov. He was Section property, same as you, because you turned him.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Langley hears things. Out of Hawaii, of all places. This fellow Denisov from Santa Barbara, California, keeps coming over to talk shipping business. Only he talks to the wrong people. A fella named Peterson runs dope into the islands on his boat and that’s the kind of lowlife this buyer from Santa Barbara is talking to.”
“Denisov.”
“The very same fella. Interesting, ain’t it? You just happen to turn up at a time I could use a fella like you. And you knowing the territory and all.”
Devereaux waited. There was always an edge in this playful manner, he had learned that much about Mickey Connors.
“Well, that’s all Langley could tell me. They hear about the Japanese code machine same as everyone else but nobody even knows if the damned thing exists. Except this fella Denisov, he knows it exists.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I got a fella in Consortium International. Maybe I got a spy and maybe the spy tells me that they been trying to work out a deal with some fella for something that is Japanese and smaller than a bread box. You follow me?”
“I’m trying.”
“I’ve got a good set of ears inside Consortium. You might say we’re sort of business rivals in a small world. We both deal with Langley—but you know that, don’t you?”
Devereaux said nothing.
Mickey scratched his ear and stared at the other man for a long moment.
“I want to know what you want, Devereaux,” Mickey Connors said.
“Maybe we want the same things.”
“Anything’s possible.”
Devereaux decided to advance it a square at a time. “Consortium is going after the Japanese machine, whatever it is. A decoding machine, the mother of all decoding machines. This country would build one in… what do they estimate?” He looked at Mickey.
Mickey smiled. “Ten years. Japs are ten years up on us. We’d sure the hell like to have a look at a finished code machine.”
“So it would be worth money to someone.”
“Ah, stop dancing me, fella. Whoever steals the machine is sitting on a small fortune.”
“But first, the thief has to deal with the first thief. Denisov. In Santa Barbara. Denisov gets the decoder machine and gets his payoff. And the middle man middles it back to… who do you think wants to pay top price for it, Mickey?”
“It ain’t the fuckin’ Russians for sure,” Mickey Connors said.
“Langley,” Devereaux said.
“So it’s always been.”
Silence.
“Do you think there might come along another bidder?” Mickey asked. He was staring at his manicured fingernails. They needed a trim.
Devereaux watched the other man’s hands as well. He decided not to answer.
“In any case, that’s down the line.” Mickey looked up. “I want to use you, Devereaux, you’ve got a cool eye and I know a little about you. You’ve stepped out of the traces from time to time. Maybe you can do me a favor.”
“Get the machine when Denisov gets it.”
“Naw, naw, I’m not a fool. I don’t exactly trust you but I can see some angles. Maybe you want the machine for R Section. Maybe you want to cut me out. Or maybe you want me to sell it to R Section. Or maybe you’re really on the beach and you want a new start in life. And maybe that blue-eyed smoke you work for—”
Devereaux held up a hand.
“—All right, did work for once and maybe work for still, maybe he can be a man to deal with. I don’t know and that’s the truth. But if I cut you out now, I’ll never find out, will I?”
Devereaux said, “Probably not.”
“I don’t want you going against Denisov. You and Denisov go back, don’t you? A couple of peas in the old cold war days.”
Devereaux tried not to look surprised.
“I know you, lad, I know about you. You got sufferance due you because I don’t know enough. You want a job from me? Then you go out to California and you watch. I want to know who Denisov is dealing with from Consortium. I can’t get it from my ears and I think time is running down.”
“Your spy inside Consortium must not be very good,” Devereaux said. Said it as an aside, as though it meant nothing.
“Consortium is a funny place. A bunch of boxes lined up with locks on them. One box never knows what goes on inside another box. I want to get a line—quick—on who is dealing with Denisov. And I want to leave Denisov in place. When he gets the code machine, the outfit he steals it from is gonna come after him hard. Let Denisov take a fall. When I get the machine, I’ll figure out who the highest bidder is gonna be. You fellas at Section or Langley.”
“Maybe I’d get the machine ahead of you.”
Mickey stared at him. “I want you out there, Devereaux, because it’s safer than if you was off sneaking around. You contact me through Dougherty’s bar. You watch Denisov and you find out who the middle man is he’s dealing with. There’s a Mr. Inside on this and a Mr. Outside. I know who’s inside.”
“Who?”
“That’s for me to know. A man of long standing in CI. But he’s gotta have someone working for him, making the contacts with Denisov. That’s what you find out, fella, and you’ll have done me a favor.”
“What’s that mean for me?”
“Terms. Two thousand a week for now. And it means you did Mickey Connors a favor.”
Devereaux smiled then. “But I might end up with the decoder machine. You’re taking a risk.”
“It’s all about risks.” Mickey stood up. “I take risks, you take them. But it’s all worth it for the game. And for the money.”
“Don’t forget the money,” Devereaux said.
And Mickey Connors gave him a glacial look that turned blue eyes into ice fields.
“And don’t you forget Tubbo there, hanging upside down. Naw. You wouldn’t wanna forget that at all, fella.”