A PROFESSORIAL-LOOKING GENTLEMAN in a tweed jacket tapped on the microphone. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I am Lucius Camus, and I am delighted to be hosting the third annual Endangered Species Preservation Conference.”
There was a round of applause.
“We want you to know how much we value your support for this worthy cause. In addition to the pledge drives, raffle tickets, and charity auctions, nothing beats a cash donation. And nothing makes you feel better than to know you are contributing to the preservation of these endangered species.
“But you are here to enjoy yourselves, as I am sure you will. We have triple-track programming scheduled. We’re sorry you won’t be able to attend all the panels, but you will always have three excellent options to choose from. Afterward, you can exchange ideas with someone who saw one of the others. And I happen to know some of our lecturers, if you buy them a drink in the bar, they will never stop talking.”
This sally was met with appreciative laughter.
“Panels will begin tomorrow morning at nine. All panels are open to everyone, except for those few panels designated by a star. Only guests with stars on their name tags will be admitted to those panels. Please don’t feel discriminated against. It’s because they paid extra.”
Lucius gestured to the man standing next to him. “And now, it is my great pleasure to introduce Monsieur Rene Darjon, our benefactor, who has generously underwritten the conference for the third year running. Without his help, none of this would have been possible. Ladies and gentlemen, Monsieur Rene Darjon!”
Rene Darjon stepped to the microphone. He was a strikingly handsome man, with silver sideburns and a trim moustache. In a custom-tailored navy-blue suit, he looked like he would be equally comfortable spearheading a multimillion-dollar business deal or escorting a movie star to a Hollywood film awards. He was the type of man who was catnip to the ladies, and knew it.
Rene Darjon dismissed the applause as unnecessary; though Teddy had a feeling he’d have been miffed if he didn’t get it. His smile was benevolent, if a trifle condescending.
“My friends. I cannot thank you enough for showing up to support this worthy cause. I am doing everything I can to aid these endangered species, but I cannot do it alone. Now, more than ever, we need your support. Listen to what the panelists have to say, and let your hearts unlock your checkbooks. This is our third annual conference. Let’s make it the best one ever.”
As Rene Darjon stepped away from the microphone, a stunning brunette in an evening dress slipped her arm through his and draped herself on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, and held her to him. She smiled up at him affectionately.
It was Kristin.
RENE DARJON LEFT with Kristin shortly after he spoke. Teddy didn’t try to follow. He didn’t want to hover over her, and he had other fish to fry. Instead, he detoured back to his room, took out a fresh burner phone, and called Jacques.
“You know who this is?”
“Glad you called. We’ve got trouble.”
“Oh?”
“Workman’s gone dark.”
“Oh?”
“At first I thought he was just undercover, but no one knows where he is. There are rumors bouncing around. He defected. He was abducted. He was a mole to begin with. Or that he’s dead.”
“What’s the general consensus?”
“There is none, just a lot of conflicting opinions.”
“What does Norton think?”
“He’s too cool to let on.”
“Is anything being done to locate him?”
“I’m out of that loop. The fact that he’s missing is gossip. What’s being done about it is intel.”
“Right.”
“What’s your theory?”
“I don’t have one.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Let me know if they find him.”
“Will do. So, why’d you call?”
“Two things. What have you got on Rene Darjon?”
“The Silver Fox?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“That’s what they call him. The Silver Fox. What about him?”
“He’s underwriting the convention. Is he a great philanthropist?”
“Not that I know of. He never puts money into anything that doesn’t turn a profit. He’s a ruthless corporate CEO who built his empire through hostile takeovers and leveraged buyouts. Contributing to a cause is completely out of character.”
“Is that right?”
“Oh, yes. But taking the credit for it isn’t. He’s the type who’s happy accepting a humanitarian award on TV at the same time he’s purchasing cheap real estate and evicting the tenants to put up a factory.”
“You didn’t know he was at the conference?”
“I don’t know anything about the conference except who has hotel reservations for it. Rene Darjon lives in Paris. He maintains a hotel room full time for his assignations, but it’s not at l’Arrington.”
“Nice guy. And you don’t know what his angle here is?”
“Like I say, I didn’t even know he was there.”
“What about the Agency?”
“What about it?”
“As far as you know, they haven’t taken any interest in the convention?”
“Not at all. If any agents have taken an interest, they’re pursuing it outside official channels. Not totally atypical for early reconnaissance, if the agent just has a hunch but nothing to back it up yet,” Jacques said. “But once they check in, they have to report to the chief and get his go-ahead on an official mission.”
“Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?”
Teddy laughed. “It’s the type of thing people say when they don’t understand what’s going on.”
Teddy hung up the phone. He wasn’t happy. Kristin’s presence at the conference wasn’t good. From what he’d learned of her, she fancied herself a female James Bond. Going off on her own and failing to report in to Norton was her standard MO.
Teddy wondered if Kristin’s investigation was due to Workman’s disappearance. As far as she was concerned, he was a fellow agent, not a mole. She must have backtracked what he was working on and found a link to the Syrians, not realizing he was actually in their pocket. She’d follow his lead on the conference, and want to finish up what Workman had started. The fact that he was missing and presumed dead wouldn’t faze her. To her, it would be an incentive. To avenge a fellow agent. She’d want to check out the conference and see what the Syrians were up to. She couldn’t come at them directly, and risk winding up like Workman, but she needed an overview of what was going on. The answer was Rene Darjon, the playboy entrepreneur who was financing the convention. Making a play for him was just the type of flamboyant gesture she’d be apt to try. On his arm, she’d have access to everything. And he’d be eager to show off. Through him, she could get inside information on the Syrians. Her only problem was, she couldn’t approach them directly.
Teddy could.