Minister Jones recruits Big

“Sorry, but when we met it was so brief. Do you have any special code name?” Jones leaned forward. “I mean, what do I call you?”

“Anything you want,” Big said, sliding an olive off its toothpick. He considered the olive, rolling it around in his fingers. “Olives remind me of bullet slugs. Just about the same size.” He plopped it into his mouth.

Jones glanced at his Rolex, then gripped the sides of the table. “Listen, it’s getting late, and I don’t want to be seen here with you. So you want this money now or—”

“You’re not nervous, are you, Minister?” Big asked, enjoying his puppet-master control over the idiot politician.

“Why you say that?” Jones wiped his forehead.

“Take off your jacket. You’ll feel cooler, more relaxed.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Big watched Jones clumsily hang his jacket on the back of the chair. What a clown. Big scanned the minister’s shirt. No visible wire lines. Good, but better be sure. He raised his martini glass quickly and—“Oops!” He sloshed his drink on Jones’s shirt.

“Shit!” Jones sprang to his feet.

“Sorry, sorry, my fault.” He patted down Jones’s shirt with his napkin. No wire. “Really sorry. Let me get the waitress.” Big smiled inwardly as he motioned Latoya.

As he and the minister sat down again, a young Hispanic woman strolled in, her cell phone pressed to the side of her face. She was slim and full busted. Probably a 36D.

“Nice, huh?” Jones said, looking the Hispanic woman up and down slowly.

“Very.”

“Here’s more napkins.” Latoya stretched over to Jones, her cleavage in Big’s direct line of vision. “Can I get you anything from the bar, sir?” Latoya asked, her dreamy brown eyes fixed on Jones’s.

“Minister, why don’t you try one of these?” Big grinned, indicating his martini. “You’re already wearing one.”

“Very funny. Umm, just water for me, thanks.” Jones blotted his shirt with the napkins.

“Still or sparkling?” Latoya’s pencil and pad ready.

Jones’s face went blank, his lips parting slightly.

“I’ll have another martini, but let the minister try the sparkling water. You like bubbles, don’t you, minister?”

Jones nodded vaguely at Big, then at Latoya.

“Okey-dokey.” Latoya smiled and bounced away, passed a couple walking along the balcony looking for a place to sit, but the balcony was full. Big could see glitter shining in the woman’s hair in the soft glow of the balcony lights. The man shrugged and gestured for them to leave and try their chances inside.

“Listen,” Jones leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m a government minister. This isn’t a good position for me to be in right now.”

“What position is that?”

“You know, coming here to deliver this payment.” Jones glanced around. “Too public.”

Big nodded, never getting tired of this little game of politician-pretend-innocence. “Oh, I get it. You’re nervous about your position here at the wine bar, but not about the public situation you and your government find yourselves in.”

“It’s just that,” Jones ran his finger between his collar and his neck, “I mean, why did you pick such a public place to meet?”

“What would you prefer, a dark alley? An abandoned warehouse?” Big winked as Latoya placed their drinks on the table. “Better get my Ray-Bans, ski-mask and dark trench coat from the car.”