The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series) (31 page)

Loftus closed his eyes. “Of course, sir.”

“Where did Lesko go?”

“Well, that's an odd thing, sir. He had an overnight
bag with him. He took it to the Beckwith Regency Ho
tel.”

“The Regency? That's quite expensive, isn't it? And
why would Lesko be staying at a hotel when he lives not
thirty minutes away?”

“Doug Poole says he didn't actually check in, sir.
There was an envelope with a room key waiting for
him.”

“So he's meeting someone.”

“I don't know, sir.”

“Bannerman, perhaps?”

“Sir, I don't think Lesko knows Bannerman. I don't
think he even knew Bannerman existed until last
night.”

“On what do you base that opinion?”

“Lesko's daughter called Bannerman after her fa
ther took her home. She told Bannerman that she had
finally told her father about him and that her father was
looking forward to meeting him.”

“That's all?”

“On that subject, yes, sir.’”

“Robert,” Palmer Reid's tone had an edge to it, “I
could just as easily conclude from that conversation that
the two men do in fact know each other and have kept
that knowledge from the daughter.”

“I've stated my impression, sir.” He closed his eyes
again. “But the tapes are on their way to you by courier.
With your superior experience, you may catch a nuance I missed.”

There was a brief silence over the line as Palmer
Reid pondered whether there might be insolence hid
den somewhere in that last remark. “I may indeed,” he
said finally. “What else did Bannerman and the girl talk
about?”

“There were some expressions of mutual affection.”
Loftus was stalling.

“What else?”

“Sir, Bannerman and the girl seem to be planning a
ski vacation together. There was a reference to the
amount of packing that has to be done by Friday. I
assume that's when they're leaving.”

“Their destination?”

“They didn't say. It's apparently going to be a trip of
some duration. She asked if two ski outfits would be
enough for ‘that many days' and whether she'd need
evening clothes. He answered that the only time they'd
dress for dinner was their one night on the train.”

“The train, you say.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That sounds like Europe.”

“Yes, sir. But,” he added pointedly, “it does sound to
me like a pleasure trip.”

Reid ignored the remark. “Bannerman makes trips
such as this at least annually, doesn't he? Sometimes to
the Austrian Tyrol. Most often to the Grisons in Switzer
land. And both are reached through Zurich.”

“Sir, he travels to a lot of places.”

“Zurich, Robert,” he said archly. “What is the signifi
cance of Zurich?”

“Sir,” Loftus gritted his teeth. “If you're referring to
Swiss bank accounts, I doubt very much whether
Bannerman has one or needs one. His funds are all
invested in Westport and they're just as out of reach as
they'd be in Zurich.”

“Those are
my
funds, Robert.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I will pass over the fact that there are others who have funds in Zurich, powerful private interests, criminals and even governments who might find it in
their interest to support Paul Bannerman's activities.”

Loftus had been afraid of this. If he asked what
activi
ties, there being no evidence of any whatsoever, Reid
would call him naive. He said nothing.

“I will pass over that question and get to one that is
even more intriguing. We have some reports that Elena
is in South America, and others that she is in. Europe. If
you were to begin looking for her in Europe, Robert, where would you start?”

Loftus closed his eyes again. “Probably Zurich, sir.”

“Why, Robert?”

Loftus didn't answer. The question was essentially
rhetorical. Elena had been born and raised in Zurich,
born of a Bolivian national who was then stranded there
when Bolivia declared war on Germany and Italy in
1943. She held dual citizenship
and her mother had
married into a large and wealthy Zurich family. Elena
had plenty of roots there, plenty of friends. It was, true
enough, where one would start looking for her, but if it
were up to Loftus they wouldn't bother. She wanted to
be out of it and she was. As far as he was concerned, that
was all Bannerman and Zivic and the rest of them
wanted as well.

He'd tried expressing that view to Palmer Reid and had been ridiculed for it. Reid saw conspiracies every
where. Every conversation had a hidden meaning, ev
ery meeting, a hidden agenda. You couldn't even ask
him if he was going to a Redskins game without Reid
wondering why you were trying to determine his
whereabouts on a given Sunday afternoon.

Not that he wasn't right occasionally. Law of aver
ages. And maybe the country needs a few professional
paranoids. Maybe they need to be in positions of power
because if they weren't, no one would listen to them.
Not that Palmer Reid ever told
anyone what he was doing. Certainly no one outside Operations. Certainly
no politically appointed director. Imagine telling any
thing important to a loose cannon like William Casey or
a gee-whiz type like George Bush. On the other hand,
the smart ones didn't even want to know what Reid was
doing.

“Robert?”
             

“Yes, sir?”

“What is Bannerman up to?”

“I don't know, sir. But I think we should keep in
mind the possibility that he's just going skiing with a lady friend.”

“The arrogance of the man.”

“Sir?”

“I'm agreeing with you, Robert. For the sake of argu
ment. Ba
n
nerman is, in a very real sense, a traitor to his
country. He is a mutineer who has expelled legitimate
authority from what is in fact a government facility.”

“U
m
, are you talking about Westport, sir?”

“I am.” Palmer Reid began to hiss. “He is a man who feels so secure in his treachery that he is free to travel as
he pleases, when he pleases, and has the gall to threaten
retaliation if he or his killers are interfered with in any
way. And now he has the effrontery to be taking off on a
carefree, extended ski trip to Switzerland with the
young lady of his choice.”

“Switzerland is just a guess, sir. We haven't con
firmed that.”

“
And
,”
Palmer Reid ignored the reminder, “that,
Robert, is the
best case
scenario. Do you realize that? Even allowing for the most charitable interpretation of
his behavior, even imputing no sinister motive whatso
ever, that behavior constitutes an utter outrage to every
decent American.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But we don't really believe in best-case scenarios,
do we?”

“Sir,” Loftus couldn't help himself, “I must tell you
that I lean strongly in that direction.”

“That's fine, Robert,” Reid said after a pause. “We must encourage alternative points of view. If we agree
all the time, then one of us is unnecessary. Isn't that so,
Robert?”

”Um, yes, sir.”

“Try this scenario.” Palmer Reid began reflecting
aloud, unevenly, as if assembling the pieces as he spoke.
“Bannerman has reached Elena. He has done it through
Lesko. Let's grant for the moment that the daughter is
merely a pawn and that Bannerman has used her to
reach Lesko. Elena has told Bannerman everything, all
about our relationship with her, in return for
...
money? No. Elena has far more of that than
Banner
man. For protection? For the use of Bannerman's killers
to further cover her tracks? Yes. Quite possibly for that.”

Loftus said nothing.

“Bannerman in turn has told Lesko . . . what? Cer
tainly about Westport. Possibly about all the other
Westports. Certainly of our association with Elena. Our
involvement in his partner's death. So that Lesko can take further revenge? Go public where Banner
man might not? Use his daughter to plant a story in the
New York Post?
Help me, Robert.”