Unfinished Business
The Third in the Barbara Williams/Robert McCall Series
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place in December, 1994 and falls between "Return to Cyprus" (end of 1995) and "Up Popped the Devil" (January 1993)
Chapter One
Barbara was watching a Giants game on TV. Robert didn't like football—American football anyway—and she was taking the opportunity to watch while he was meeting Scott for a little father-son time. She didn't know exactly what they were up to, but whatever it was, she hoped it lasted through the end of the game. Although she hadn't yet warmed to the Giants, she had decided that since she was living in New York, she'd have to start rooting for a New York team. For some irrational reason, the Jets were out of the question, so it had to be the Giants.
Today her new team was playing at Dallas. In another life, Barbara had been a Cowboys fan, long before Aikman and Co. Today the Giants weren't making it easy to love them. Although they hadn't played too badly, by the half they had managed only two field goals while the Cowboys already had twenty points. She figured the Giants would have to play a lot better in the second half or they were going to lose, and she didn't like backing losers.
Barbara muted the half time blah blahs and was on her way to the fridge to get a soda when the phone rang. As usual she let the machine pick up, in case it was someone asking for Robert's help. After the beep, a voice she recognized started talking, compelling her stop and listen carefully.
"Call 541 555 3362." That was all.
After erasing the tape, Barbara turned off the TV, collected her coat and wallet, and went down to the phone booth outside their building. She punched in the number that had been left on the machine.
"648," she said into the receiver.
"Hello, Barbara," the voice answered. "How are you these days? How's life married to the famous, or is it infamous, Robert McCall? I have to say, that really surprised me. As did the fact that you quit the Red Line."
"Winston, why are you calling me? I quit. There's no reason for you to be talking to me." Barbara was annoyed. She didn't want to be standing in a phone booth on a cold winter's day talking to Winston.
"Don't get all huffy, Barbara." 'Still the same Barbara,' Winston thought. She could be very prickly. "We came across some information earlier today that we thought you might want to hear. We talked it over and decided we'd give you a head's up. That's all. It's up to you what you do with it."
Barbara was about to say that she wasn't interested no matter what the information might be, but she stopped herself. Perhaps she should listen, she told herself. What can it hurt?
"OK, Winston, go ahead," she said curtly.
"As I said, the information came in this morning. You've probably heard about the International Conference for World Peace that's starting soon in Miami."
"Yes, I've heard about it." She was getting more impatient, and colder, too.
"There will be delegations from all over the world."
"That's usually what international means, Winston. Get to the point."
"Sure. Carlos Costa is part of the Cuban delegation."
Barbara said nothing. She was staring off into space. Carlos Costa.
"Barbara, are you still there?"
"Yes, Winston, I'm still here. How do you know it's Costa? Supposedly nobody knows where he is. What the hell is he doing with the Cubans?"
"Barbara, I can't answer any of your questions. You are aware how we work. If someone feeds us intelligence, we don't ask questions, we just accept the information. But you know that our intelligence is very good."
"Are you sending someone?"
"No. Costa is definitely on our list, but we won't work domestically, even in this case."
"So what are you telling me?"
"Barbara, I'm—ah, we, are not telling you anything." As if Barbara ever let anyone tell her anything, he laughed to himself. In passing, he wondered if her new husband could do it. "We appreciate that you have a special relationship to Costa. As I said before, it's up to you what you do with this information." Certainly there were some among them who wanted her to do the job, but they were not going to recommend it.
"Is there anything more you can tell me? Places, dates?" It wasn't that she had decided to use the information, but in case she did….
He could tell that she had bitten.
"The Cuban delegation is arriving Tuesday at 2:00 PM at Opa-locka Airport. They'll be staying at the Miami Regency on the seventh floor. The conference is in the meeting rooms at the hotel. It starts at 9:00 AM on Wednesday."
"If I do it," she said, still not admitting she was even thinking about it, "I'd need a contact in Miami." She could not take her weapon on the plane, and she needed an unidentifiable car. That's what the contact was for.
"Syd Kramer said she'd help with equipment, but she does not want to get involved beyond logistics." He gave her Syd's number, which Barbara had to write down on a check deposit slip, since she hadn't brought anything down with her.
"OK. I'll think about it. Good bye, Winston." Barbara hung up.