The Mordida Man Read Online Free PDF

because Bingo McKay, although burdened with no government post, was usually regarded to be either the third or fourth most powerful man in Washington. Many even said second.
    The junket had gone nowhere near Washington, of course. Instead, it had started in Houston, where the much maligned oil companies, anxious now to scramble back into the administration’s grace and favor, had laid on a lavish reception. After Texas, it was straight out to Southern California for a demonstration of the new F-18a fighter, which the Libyans were known to covet, even lust after, feeling that the new plane would give far more pause to their increasingly jingoistic Egyptian neighbor than did their current fleet of aging Soviet MiG 25s.
    The fighter demonstrations were scheduled for the next day at Vandenberg Air Force Base, and after that there was to be a quick side trip up to Northern California, to San Jose—or Silicon Gulch—where the latest in electronic wizardry would be wheeled out for inspection—and possible barter.
    But first there had to be the de rigueur visit to Disneyland, which Bingo McKay had lied his way out of and turned over to his twenty-eight-year-old assistant, Dr. Eleanor Rhodes, whom he had hired fresh out of Johns Hopkins with the promise that “I can’t guarantee you anything except money and the fact that you’re gonna be close to the nut-cuttin’, if that’s the kinda stuff you’re interested in.”
    Since her doctoral dissertation had been entitled “Parameters of Deception in the Second Nixon Administration,” it was, indeed, the kind of stuff Eleanor Rhodes was interested in; and her quick mind and remarkable memory had for five years now helped Bingo nearly double his own political acumen, which was immense.
    Then, too, he was probably half in love with her, but he had never done anything about it because (1) she was too young and (2) she couldn’t remember World War II and (3) he suspected that she was one of the President’s occasional bed partners, which was something Bingo had decided to keep his mouth shut about unless the Guteater brought it up. The Guteater was Dominique McKay, the President’s one-quarter Choctaw wife.
    It was shortly after 5 P.M. (on the day that the man called Felix fell almost a mile into the sea) when the ten-car Libyan caravan, sprinkled with eighteen Wackenhut security men, returned to the Marriott from Disneyland. Members of the delegation immediately retired to their rooms to rest until dinner at eight, when their hosts would be executives of the McDonnell Douglas and Northrop corporations, joint developers of the new F-18a.
    At 6 P.M. the call came from Tripoli. The call was from Libya’s new ruler, Colonel Youssef Mourabet. It was taken by his Minister of Defense, Major Ali Arifi. They spoke for nineteen minutes in Maghribi, a Bedouin dialect.
    At 6:24 P.M ., Ali Arifi summoned Eleanor Rhodes to his suite. He spoke for five minutes without stopping or allowing questions. At 6:33 P.M. Eleanor Rhodes was knocking on Bingo McKay’s door.
    After Bingo opened the door, he started to say something sardonic about Disneyland, but changed his mind when he saw the grim expression on her face.
    â€œThere’s a problem,” she said once the door was closed.
    â€œHow bad?”
    â€œBad enough. They’re going to Vegas tonight—for gambling. You’ll notice I didn’t say they’d like to go. They’re going.”
    â€œWell, maybe I’d better go try and persuade ’em to change their minds.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t think I’d try, if I were you.”
    â€œLike that, huh?”
    â€œLike that. They’re leaving at eight.” She headed for the telephone. “We’re invited, but they’re going whether we do or not.” She picked up the phone.
    â€œYou calling the Wackenhut folks?”
    She shook her head again. “They don’t