“If you please,” said Ambassador López-Calderón. “Mr. De Bourbon is a guest of the Spanish government. Restraints are not needed any longer. He is a free man, is he not?”
Tan glared at Rafa. “Not yet, he isn’t.” Then a word to Warden Charlie—“Unlock the dog”—who removed the handcuffs. “I’m waiting.”
Rafa crossed the room and stood at Simon’s side. “How are you?” asked Simon.
“Ready for a beer and a shot of tequila.”
Simon patted his shoulder. “I’m sure that can be arranged. Let’s get everything taken care of first.”
“Delphine?”
“She left the country this morning. Better that way.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
Only then did Simon hand Tan the flash drive. He appeared dissatisfied at its size, somehow cheated.
Tan closed his fingers around the drive. “And now the password?”
“One moment, Colonel. There are some formalities that need attention.” Adamson rushed forward, placing two leather folders on the ambassador’s desk. With care, he opened each, setting down a fountain pen for the respective party’s signature. “Might I ask that we receive the check?” he said, brimming with goodwill. “I have the paperwork ready. Mr. De Bourbon acknowledges turning over the information taken from PetroSaud’s servers, with no admission of guilt, in return for a payment from PetroSaud of one million dollars. There’s a receipt, of course. Also attached is a promise never to speak of the matter again. It’s all there.” He held out a pen for Colonel Tan. “Mr. De Bourbon is booked on a three o’clock flight to Doha.”
“First, the password.”
“First, the check,” said Adamson, showing a little backbone.
Tan snapped his fingers. An adjutant handed the attorney an envelope. Adamson examined the contents. “Excuse me, but this check is not signed.”
“Mr. De Bourbon owes us an additional piece of information,” said Tan. “A name. A journalist, I believe. Who did you send the information to?”
Rafa looked to Simon, who nodded. Rafa had warned the journalist as best he could. There was no choice to be made.
“Okay, then,” said Rafa, but still he hesitated. “I’ll tell you.”
Tan’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and answered at once.“Pronto,”he said, his eyes locked on Simon.“Va bene. Si. Perfettamente. Grazie, Luca. Grazie tanto. Ciao.”
Tan motioned to his adjutants. The officers stiffened as if they’d received an electric shock. A signal, to be sure.
They knew, thought Simon. Whoever “Luca” was, he’d told Tan that they’d discovered what Rafa had stolen, and with all probability, the identity of the journalist he’d told about it. Rafa was expendable.
Tan snatched the check from Adamson’s hand. “A change of plan. Mr. De Bourbon won’t be needing this.”
“What’s going on?” demanded the attorney. “Am I missing something?” Confused, Adamson looked at Rafa, then at Simon.
“You’re going back to where you belong,” said Tan. “Count on doing twenty years.” He barked an order to Warden Charlie, who approached Rafa, opening the cuffs. “Please,” said Warden Charlie. “Your hands.”
“You can’t arrest him,” said Simon. “This is Spanish soil. He’s a Spanish citizen.”
“I must object,” said Ambassador López-Calderón. “You have no authority here. If there is an issue, please file a protest with my government. I am at your service. In the meantime, Mr. De Bourbon is under the protection of the Spanish crown.”
“You can’t do this,” added Adamson. “You have no jurisdiction here. We are not on Thai soil.”
“Rafa, stay where you are,” said Simon.
Tan ignored them, pointing at Rafa. “Do as you are told.”
The ambassador slid between Tan and Rafa, arms raised, a conciliatory gesture. “Please, gentlemen. This is not the time for an incident.”
“No incident. The man is a criminal, in Spain or in Thailand. I am a police officer.” Tan shoved the ambassador forcefully to one side and took violent hold of Rafa’s arm. The ambassador lost his balance and barreled into Simon.
