Removal (20 page)

He kissed her. ‘It’s OK.’

‘Then by some miracle, our back-up came. The bad guys heard the sirens and took off. Two minutes later and it would have been over. I was amazed it wasn’t over anyway. If they’d rushed us, we wouldn’t have had a chance. By the time the back-up got inside the factory, Tina was gone. They sent me on leave for four months. I went down to Mexico, Cancun. Linda took some leave and came with me for the first two weeks. She slept with me every night, and every night I would wake up screaming. She just held me and held me, for hours. I wouldn’t have made it without her. I still get the nightmares sometimes. It doesn’t happen so often now, but you need to know that it will, once in a while.’

Jeff kissed her forehead.

‘I blamed myself for not getting out of there sooner. We had all the evidence we needed to get the middle men. But I wanted to nail a couple of capos. Thought I could do it for sure if I had another week or so. Once I’d lain on the beach in Cancun for a couple of weeks and my mind came back, I was sure it was my fault Joe and Tina were dead. I was ready to quit. And then, for whatever reason, Lazenby called and rescued me.’

They were silent for several minutes.

‘I get them too, sometimes,’ Jeff said.

‘About Susan?’

‘Yeah. Being at the hospital when she died. I wake up in the early hours, panicking, feeling lost.’

She kissed him.

‘I don’t know whether I scream or not. There’s never been anyone there to tell me.’

She held him as tight as she could.

‘There is now,’ she said.

F
ROM
HIS
VANTAGE
point in the control tower, George Carlson took in the scene in the compound’s training ground below with satisfaction. Using binoculars, he could see every detail of the action. They were getting better all the time. The assault drill had been carried out to near perfection, the results of his training, based on his experience in nameless military campaigns in Africa. Carlson considered himself an expert. But he could not do everything himself. He had hand-picked a small group of men to be his officers, and drove them hard until they had mastered the techniques of fast, mobile warfare. When they were ready, Carlson placed the officers in charge of the newer recruits. The practical training was continually reinforced by indoctrination sessions, offering the recruits a new vision. A new United States, free from corrupt liberal politicians interested only in feathering their own nests, a country relieved of the curse of racial degradation. A message to stir the blood of right-thinking men. And now it was beginning to pay off. Carlson had a fully-formed fighting force, a force ready to liberate America from its own corrupted institutions.

Dan Rogers was running up the last few steps of the rough metal staircase to join his commander in the control tower. His fatigues were covered with dust and his face was bathed in sweat. Despite his exertions, Rogers was breathing only slightly faster than usual. He was in good spirits. Carlson turned around and smiled appreciatively.

‘Nice work, Dan. It was looking good down there.’

‘It could still be faster. But it’s coming along, George. The guys have been working their asses off. They’re up for it. They’re ready for the real thing. I can feel it.’

Carlson lit a cigarette.

‘Good. So am I. Did the supplies arrive?’

‘Yeah. Peters took care of them. All neatly stacked away.’

‘How about the new guy, what’s his name, Seager?’

Rogers accepted a light for a cigarette.

‘The signals guy? Yeah, he’s here. I was going to bring him up to see you, but we ran out of time. He arrived just as the drill was starting, so I sat him down to watch. He was pretty damned impressed.’

‘He should be. Where is he now?’

‘Down below. I told him to wait until I’d reported to you. You want to see him now or later?’

‘Why don’t you bring him up now. You’re sure he checks out, Dan, right?’

‘His references were good. Benson vouched for him.’

‘All right. Let’s take a look at him.’

Rogers picked up the field telephone and flicked the rotating dial. ‘Henderson?’

‘Sir,’ a voice answered.

‘Bring Captain Seager up to the tower right away.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ the voice answered smartly.

Rogers hung up. He and Carlson were silent, smoking, looking out over the tarmac where some of their soldiers were cleaning up after the assault drill and returning equipment to storage. After a few moments a man in his late thirties in clean fatigues joined them on the deck of the tower. He stood briefly to attention, gave a salute which ended almost as soon as it began, and finally stood at ease.

Carlson returned the salute.

‘Captain Seager? I’m Commander George Carlson. You’ve met my XO, Commander Rogers.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

Carlson extended his hand. ‘You come highly recommended. I’m glad to have you aboard.’

‘Thank you, Sir. I’m glad to be here.’

Carlson offered Seager a cigarette.

‘No, thank you, Sir.’

‘We’re pretty informal here, Captain. We keep up salutes and ranks in front of the men, but amongst ourselves it can be first names.’

‘OK,’ Seager said.

Carlson exhaled from his cigarette.

‘What did you think of our little show?’

‘Very impressive.’

‘You should know. You were in The Congo, I’m told.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Brazzaville?’

‘Among other places.’

‘Was that the Lightning Bolt Campaign?’

Seager seemed hesitant.

‘Not many people know about that campaign. It was kept kind of quiet.’

‘We’re pretty well informed here, Jim. Among the people we associate with, it’s something of a legend. From what I hear, it was downright ugly.’

Carlson and Rogers exchanged smiles.

‘You don’t want to believe everything you hear,’ Seager said impassively. ‘It was a good chance to improve my skills. I’m looking forward to putting them to use in a good cause. Commander… Dan… was telling me it may not be long.’

Carlson extinguished his cigarette.

‘Who knows? I try not to talk about it around the men. They tend to get excited about it, and you can’t keep them on the boil all the time. Are you familiar with your duties?’

‘In general terms.’

Carlson lit another cigarette.

‘Well, let’s get a little more specific. First, we have a lot of men who have no experience of working with a signals officer. It will be your job to train them, show them what will be happening once we’re in the field. You’ll be a part of all our exercises from now on. Also, I need you to identify two or three men who you think can handle the job and teach them everything you know.’

‘No problem,’ Seager said. ‘And second?’

‘Second,’ Carlson said, ‘you’ll take over communications with a number of sources.’

‘Sources?’

‘We depend a lot on information. Most of it is public record. We monitor press and TV reports, and a full range of websites, for all political and military content. But we also rely on some inside information, which we analyze and pass on to other groups we expect to join with us when the time comes. The volume of intelligence is constantly increasing, and I don’t have time to deal with it all myself any more. Besides, this stuff is what you do. You’ll be a lot faster than I am.’

‘I assume you mean encryption?’

‘Always. The sources are in vulnerable situations. We have to protect them. You’ll have access to the code book, and you’ll encrypt and decrypt. I don’t want to see anything except the finished product. Except in one case.’

Seager looked at Carlson questioningly.

‘We have one source in a very high place. His code name is Fox. He deals with me only. His terms. You give me the message encrypted and I read it myself. Same with outgoing. No one knows this except the three of us. We don’t even use the name ‘Fox’ when anyone other than the three of us is present. No exceptions. Understood?’

Seager shrugged.

‘Sure.’

‘Good,’ Carlson said. ‘You got your schedule worked out?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And you’ve seen your office?’

‘From a distance. The drill was about to start. I haven’t been inside yet.’

‘OK. Well, you better go get yourself settled in. Come by my office later. We’ll have a beer and talk about old campaigns.’

‘Thanks, I will.’

* * *

It was after midnight before Seager could excuse himself from Carlson’s office and drive quietly out of the compound to his apartment in a shabby suburb of Portland, where he was known to the landlord by the name of Baker. He removed his fatigues, poured himself a glass of whisky, and placed a phone call. It was very late where he was calling, and it took Kelly Smith some time to disentangle herself sleepily from Jeff Morris’ arms and pick up.

‘Kelly, Phil Hammond,’ he said.

Kelly was awake immediately.

‘Phil, are you OK? How did it go?’

‘So far, so good. Tell the Agency they did a nice job with my legend. It looks like I’m a Sons of the Flag poster child.’

‘Thank God for that,’ Kelly replied. ‘What’s the situation?’

‘Too early to tell. They’re gearing up for action, that I can tell you. They ran a pretty slick assault drill to keep me amused this afternoon. But what they may be planning, where and when, it will probably take me a while to find out. They have a pretty hectic schedule planned for me. I won’t be able to get away as often as I’d like to, so don’t panic if you don’t hear from me for a day or two.’

‘OK,’ Kelly said. ‘Is there anything we can do for you right now?’

‘Yes,’ Hammond replied. ‘There is one thing you can check out for me.’

‘Hold on.’

Kelly jumped out of bed and grabbed a pen and notepad from her desk.

‘OK. Shoot.’

‘It seems the Sons of the Flag have a pretty good network of information going. Carlson said they have sources that they need to protect. So they’re using codes. The information is encrypted, ingoing and outgoing. They want me to handle communications with the sources, so they’re going to give me access to almost all of the information. I’ll fill you in as I go along.’

‘That’s a good break,’ Kelly observed.

‘Yeah. But there’s one source who deals only with Carlson. Carlson says he’s, quote, in a very high place, unquote. I assume that means Washington. Code name is Fox. I’m not going to see any of his stuff decrypted. I thought you might run a check with our people and the Agency and see if you can come up with a match for the name.’

‘You got it,’ Kelly said.

‘Thanks, Kelly. I guess that’s about it for now.’

‘How’s the place they found you to stay in?’

Hammond laughed.

‘Let me put it this way. You guys owe me big time. Next assignment, I get to spend time in the big house with you and the boss.’

‘I’ll see what I can arrange,’ Kelly promised, smiling.

Suddenly her smile disappeared. ‘Phil?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Be careful, OK? Remember what the Director said. If there’s any sign of trouble, any sign at all, get out of there. Don’t walk, run.’

‘Don’t worry about it, I will,’ Phil Hammond said. ‘I’ll call tomorrow if I can. Sleep tight.’

‘You too, Phil… Oh, Phil?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did Carlson tell you how long he has been dealing with Fox?’

‘No. Would that help?’

‘It might. It occurred to me that we might be able to link him to some other scenario, where we have more information.’

‘OK, I’ll see what I can do.’

‘I
APPRECIATE
YOUR
seeing me this morning, Gerry. I know you have a busy schedule,’ Congressman George Stanley said, extending his hand as the secretary ushered him into the office.

Stanley looked around him. For all the times he had stood in the same place, he was still in awe of the sheer dimensions of the office. So much bigger than the Oval Office at the White House. So much more impressive in every way. The very length of the room, for one thing; enough space for two separate conference areas. The feeling of elegance, for another; the high vaulted ceiling, the handsome dark wood of the walls and door, the elegant mouldings atop the walls. It all served to emphasize the importance and power of the man whose office it was. The room would have been worthy of a national president. It was not the President’s office, however, a fact which always reminded Stanley of the reality of where so much of the power resided.

‘For you, George, any time, you know that. Come and take a seat.’

The House Majority Leader, jacketless, his tie loose around his neck, smiled amiably as he stood and accepted Stanley’s handshake.

‘Coffee?’

‘That would be good.’

Gerry Parkinson nodded to his secretary, who had turned back inquiringly on her way out.

‘Two, Jenny, please.’

George Stanley sat uncomfortably in a large armchair in front of Parkinson’s desk. The Majority Leader’s office was one of the very few places he found intimidating.

‘Phyllis well?’ Parkinson was asking, to make conversation as Jenny brought in the coffee.

‘She’s very well, Gerry, thank you. Up to her neck in good works as always.’

‘She’s going to visit us in Washington again soon, I hope.’

‘She’s planning on next month.’

‘Good. You must both drop by for a drink.’

‘Yes, of course.’

Stanley hesitated, feeling nervous.

‘I was sorry to hear about Margaret,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I hope…’

Parkinson shrugged.

‘Who knows?’ he said quietly. ‘They say the treatments are getting better, they’re coming up with new remedies every day. We just don’t know whether it will come in time. Still, you have to hand it to the doctors, don’t you? They can perform miracles these days.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Stanley said, sipping his coffee. ‘Look, if there’s ever anything Phyllis and I can do, Gerry, you only have to…’

His voice trailed away as Jenny left the room.

‘Yes, thank you, George. Very kind. I’ll be sure and bear it in mind.’

He resumed his business-like manner.

‘Now, George, to the point. I’ve read your memo.’