The Eleventh Commandment (1998) (14 page)

‘The moment he surfaces, Mr President, we’ll find him, and then I’ll be able to supply the proof you’ve asked for.’

‘An innocent man shot in a back street in Johannesburg will not be enough proof for me,’ said Lawrence.

‘Nor me,’ said Dexter. ‘When I produce the man who was responsible for the assassination, there won’t be any doubt about who he was working for.’ There was a slight edge to her voice.

‘If you fail to do so,’ said the President, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if this tape’ - he tapped the recorder - ‘ended up in the hands of a certain reporter at the
Washington Post
who isn’t exactly known for his love of the CIA. We can leave it to him to decide if Herrera is covering himself, or simply telling the truth. Either way, you’re going to have to answer an awful lot of awkward questions.’

‘If that were ever to happen, you might have to answer one or two yourself, Mr President,’ said Dexter, not flinching.

Lawrence rose angrily from his chair and glared down at her. ‘Let me make it clear that I still require positive proof of the existence of your missing South African. And if you fail to produce it within twenty-eight days, I’ll expect both of your resignations on my desk. Now get out of my office.’

The Director and her Deputy rose to leave the room without another word. Neither of them spoke until they were seated in the back of Dexter’s car. Once they had been driven out of the grounds of the White House, she touched a button on her armrest and a smoked-glass window slid up so that the driver - a senior operative - was unable to hear the conversation taking place behind him.

‘Have you found out which company it was that interviewed Fitzgerald?’

‘Yes,’ replied Gutenburg.

‘Then you’re going to have to give their Chairman a call’

‘My name is Nick Gutenburg. I’m the Deputy Director of the CIA. You may wish to call me back. The switchboard number at the Agency is 703 482 1100. If you give the operator your name, she will put you straight through to my office.’ He put the phone down.

Gutenburg had found over the years that not only were such calls invariably returned, usually in under a minute, but that the little subterfuge nearly always gave him the upper hand.

He sat at his desk, waiting. Two minutes passed, but he wasn’t concerned. He knew that this particular gentleman would want to verify the number. Once he had confirmed that it was the CIA’s switchboard, Gutenburg would be in an even stronger position.

When the phone eventually rang three minutes later, Gutenburg let it continue for some time before answering it. ‘Good morning, Mr Thompson,’ he said, not waiting to hear who it was. ‘I’m grateful to you for calling back so promptly.’

‘My pleasure, Mr Gutenburg,’ said the Chairman of Washington Provident.

‘I fear it’s a delicate matter that I need to speak to you about, Mr Thompson. I wouldn’t be making such a call unless I felt it was in your best interests.’

‘I appreciate that,’ said Thompson. ‘How can I help?’

‘You have recently been interviewing candidates to head up your kidnap and ransom department. A post that demands the highest standards of integrity.’

‘Of course,’ said Thompson. ‘But I think we’ve found the ideal person for the position.’

‘I have no idea who you’ve selected for the job, but I should let you know that we are currently investigating one of the applicants, and should the case end up in court, it might not reflect too well on your firm. However, Mr Thompson, if you are confident that you have found the right man, the CIA certainly has no desire to stand in his way.’

‘Now wait a moment, Mr Gutenburg. If you’re aware of something I should know about, I’ll be only too happy to listen.’

Gutenburg paused before saying, ‘May I ask, in the strictest confidence, the name of the candidate to whom you are thinking of offering this position?’

‘You most certainly can, because I’m in no doubt about his reputation, background or propriety. We are about to sign a contract with a Mr Connor Fitzgerald.’ There was a long silence before Thompson said, ‘Are you still there, Mr Gutenburg?’

‘I am, Mr Thompson. I wonder if you could find the time to visit me at Langley? I think I should brief you more fully on the fraud investigation we are presently undertaking. You might also want to examine some confidential papers that have come into our possession.’

This time it was Thompson’s turn to remain silent. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that. I don’t think a visit will be necessary,’ said the Chairman quietly. ‘He seemed like such a good man.’

‘I’m equally distressed to have had to make this call in the first place, Mr Thompson. But you would have been more angry with me if I hadn’t, and the whole sorry affair had ended up on the front page of the
Washington Post.’

‘I can’t disagree with that,’ said Thompson.

‘May I add,’ said the Deputy Director, ‘though of course it’s not pertinent to the case we’re investigating, that I’ve been a policyholder with Washington Provident since the day I began working for the CIA.’

‘I’m glad to hear that, Mr Gutenburg. I’d just like to say how much I appreciate the thoroughness with which you people carry out your job.’

‘I only hope I’ve been of some service, Mr Thompson. Goodbye, sir.’

Gutenburg replaced the receiver, and immediately pressed ‘1’ on the phone nearest to him.

‘Yes?’ said a voice.

‘I don’t think Washington Provident will be offering Fitzgerald a job after all’

‘Good. Why don’t we leave it for three days, then
you
can tell him about his new assignment.’

‘Why wait three days?’

‘You’ve obviously never read Freud’s paper on maximum vulnerability.’

We are sorry to inform you …

Connor was reading the letter for the third time when the phone on his desk rang. He felt numb with disbelief. What could possibly have gone wrong? The dinner at the Thompsons’ home couldn’t have been more agreeable. When he and Maggie left a few minutes before midnight, Ben had suggested a round of golf at Burning Tree the following weekend, and Elizabeth Thompson had asked Maggie to drop by for coffee while the men were out chasing little white balls. The next day his lawyer had rung to say that the contract Washington Provident had sent for his approval needed no more than a few minor adjustments.

Connor picked up the phone.

‘Yes, Joan.’

‘I have the Deputy Director on the line.’

‘Put him through,’ he said wearily.

‘Connor?’ said a voice he had never trusted. ‘Something important has come up, and the Director’s asked me to brief you immediately.’

‘Of course,’ said Connor, not really taking in Gutenburg’s words.

‘Shall we make it three o’clock, the usual place?’

‘Of course,’ Connor repeated. He was still holding the phone long after he had heard the click. He read the letter for a fourth time, and decided not to tell Maggie about it until he had been shortlisted for another job.

Connor was the first to arrive in Lafayette Square. He sat down on a bench facing the White House. A few minutes later Nick Gutenburg took a seat on the other end of the bench. Connor took care not to even glance in his direction.

‘The President himself requested that you should take on this assignment,’ murmured Gutenburg, looking fixedly in the direction of the White House. ‘He wanted our best man.’

‘But I’m due to leave the Company in ten days’ time,’ said Connor.

‘Yes, the Director told him. But the President insisted that we do everything in our power to convince you to stay until this assignment has been completed.’

Connor remained silent.

‘Connor, the outcome of the elections in Russia could affect the future of the free world. If that lunatic Zerimski is elected, it would mean a return to the Cold War overnight. The President could forget his Arms Reduction Bill, and Congress would be demanding an increase in the defence budget that could bankrupt us.’

‘But Zerimski’s still way behind in the polls,’ said Connor. ‘Isn’t Chernopov expected to win comfortably?’

‘That’s how it may look right now,’ said Gutenburg. ‘But there are still three weeks to go, and the President’ - he emphasised the word while continuing to stare at the White House - ‘feels that with an electorate that volatile, anything could happen. He’d be a lot happier knowing you were out there, just in case your particular expertise is needed.’

Connor didn’t respond.

‘If it’s your new job you’re worrying about,’ continued Gutenburg, ‘I’d be happy to have a word with the Chairman of the company you’re joining and explain to him that it’s only a short-term assignment.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Connor. ‘But I’ll need a little time to think about it.’

‘Of course,’ said Gutenburg. ‘When you’ve made up your mind, please call the Director and let her know your decision.’ He rose and walked away in the direction of Farragut Square.

Three minutes later, Connor strolled off in the opposite direction.

Andy Lloyd picked up the red phone. This time he recognised the voice immediately.

‘I’m almost certain I know who carried out the assignment in Bogota,’ said Jackson.

Was he working for the CIA?’ Lloyd asked.

‘Yes, he was.’

‘Do you have enough proof to convince the Congressional Select Committees on Intelligence?’

‘No, I don’t. Almost all the evidence I have would be thrown out as circumstantial. But when it’s all put together, there are far too many coincidences for my liking.’