"I recall the matter you mention, and it is resolved," Apostoll said.
"How?" said Flynn.
"The woman concerned conceived a romantic interest in me. I was urging her to join our praying army, and she mistook my purposes. She has apologised, and I have accepted her apology."
But this was already too much for Father Lucan. "Michael, that is not an accurate rendering of the truth," he said severely, removing his long hand from the side of his face in order to speak. "Michael's been two-timing her, Patrick. First he screws Annette, then he screws her roommate. Annette gets suspicious, so she tries to check him out. What's new?"
"Can I take the next question, please?" Apostoll snapped.
Flynn placed two pocket tape recorders on the table and set them going.
"Are the Blackhawks still in, Michael?" Flynn enquired.
"Patrick, I did not hear that question," Apostoll replied.
"Well, I did," Strelski retorted. "Are the cartels still going for fucking combat helicopters? Yes or no. Jesus!"
Burr had seen people play good cop-bad cop before. But Strelski's disgust seemed alarmingly genuine.
"I make it my business not to be in the room when matters of that nature are discussed," Apostoll replied. "To use Mr. Roper's felicitous expression, it is his art to fit the shoe to the foot. If Blackhawks are necessary to Mr. Roper's vision, they will be included."
Strelski scribbled something angry on a pad. "Anybody got a date for finalising this thing?" he demanded roughly. "Or do we tell Washington, wait another fucking year?"
Apostoll gave a contemptuous laugh. "Your friend must contain his patriotic ardour for instant gratification, Patrick," he said. "Mr. Roper is emphatic that he will not be hurried, and my clients are in full agreement with him. 'What grows well grows slowly,' is an old and tested Spanish proverb. As Latin people, my clients have a very mature sense of time." He glanced at Burr. "A Marian is stoical," he explained. "Mary has many detractors. Their scorn sanctifies her humility."
The to-and-fro resumed. Players and places... consignments ordered or delivered... money entering or leaving the Caribbean financial laundromat... the cartels' latest building project for downtown Miami...
Finally Flynn smiled at Burr in invitation: "Well now, Doctor, would there be anything at all by way of an interest of your own that you might be wishing to pursue with Brother Michael here?"
"Well, yes, Patrick, thank you, there is," Burr said courteously. "Being new to Brother Michael ― and of course very greatly impressed by the quality of his assistance in this matter ― I'd like to ask him first a couple of broad, background questions. If I may. More of texture, shall we say, than content."
"Sir, you are most welcome," Apostoll cut in hospitably, before Flynn could answer. "It is always a pleasure to match intellects with an English gentleman."
"Well, there's a riddle to me in all this, Patrick, speaking as Mr. Roper's fellow countryman," said Burr to Flynn. "What's Roper's secret? What's he got that all the others didn't have? The Israelis, French, Cubans, all of them offered to supply the cartels with more effective weaponry, and all of them except the Israelis came away without a deal. How did Mr. Richard Onslow Roper succeed where everybody else failed in persuading Brother Michael's clients to buy themselves a decent army?"
To Burr's surprise, a glow of unlikely warmth lit Apostoll's scrawny features. His voice acquired a lyrical tremor.
"Doctor, your countryman Mr. Roper is no ordinary salesman. He is an enchanter, sir. A man of vision and daring, a piper of people. Mr. Roper is beautiful because he is beyond the norm."
Strelski muttered an obscenity under his breath, but there was no stopping Apostoll's flow.
"To pass time with Mr. Onslow Roper is a privilege, sir, a carnival. Many men, coming to my clients, despise them. They fawn, they bring gifts, they flatter, but they are not sincere. They are carpetbaggers looking for a quick buck. Mr. Roper addressed my clients as equals. He is a gentleman, but he is not a snob. Mr. Roper congratulated them on their wealth. On exploiting the asset that nature had given them. On their skill, their courage. The world is a jungle, he said. Not all creatures can survive. It is right that the weak should go to the wall. The only question is, who are the strong? Then he treated them to a film show. A very professional, very competently assembled film show. Not too long. Not too technical. Just right."
