Ramirez was talking to Peretz again on his walkie-talkie. "I've been monitoring the scrambled radio traffic, and I've begun to have a sixth sense about the situation. I think we're about to have some uninvited guests from the U.S. Special Forces; ten to one it's Delta. Are you ready?"
"Jean-Paul just came in, and he says we're totally secure, baby. SatCom thoughtfully lined this place with steel. Ain't nobody gonna waltz into this little enclave of ours without a press pass. Rest easy, man. Keep cool."
"Well, I'm thinking I should send you some more backup, just in case." What I really should do is shoot you and just use the backup. "By the way, how does the schedule look?"
"The countdown's now being handled entirely by the computer. So far there are no holds. Lift-off is coming up exactly as scheduled."
"Good," Ramirez spoke back, "keep me updated on a ten- minute framework." He paused, thinking. "Incidentally, is there any way we possibly could speed it up?"
"Things are pretty tight as they stand. There might be some shortcuts, but I'm not sure I know this system well enough to start fooling around. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, know what I mean?"
"An original sentiment," Ramirez responded dryly. "But don't be surprised at anything that may happen here in the next ninety minutes. There may be a setup for an assault, but I'll take care of it."
"It's a tough game coming down here. But ain't nobody gonna fuck with us, 'cause we got all the big cards."
"They may try it, though. So make sure that place is tight, and have Jean-Paul and Salim double-check all the entries. The chances are good we're going to take a hit, and soon."
"No problem from down here. I told you we're covering it."
What do you know, you smart-ass? Ramirez asked himself grimly. "All right, but as soon as Jamal checks in, I'm sending him over there, too. And one of the Stasi. Stelios can handle the living quarters by himself. Just keep the countdown going, no matter what else happens."
"Okay, but the only way this thing is gonna fly is if you made those bank arrangements the way I wanted. One hand washes the other, as the saying goes. Otherwise, I'm just going to shut the whole thing down. I mean it, man."
"It has been taken care of," Ramirez said. "I faxed Geneva. They'd just opened that desk, but I should have a confirmation back in a few minutes."
With that announcement he clicked off the mike.
And smiled. Peretz’ memo had explained he wasn't demanding blackmail; what he wanted was more like an equitable readjustment of the take. And why not? the memo had reasoned. Without his computer skills, nothing could have been possible. He wanted written proof that when the ransom money came in, it would automatically be split, with half going to a new account he specified.
What an amateur. It was almost depressing.