The Kill Zone (22 page)
Authors: David Hagberg
“Christ, don't tell me that they got to him.”
“We don't think so. At least Louise doesn't think so. We'll find out when he turns up.”
“Okay, here comes the doctor,” Todd said. “Hang on a minute.”
Ms. Swanfeld came to the door. “Mr. Yemm is here. Can you see him now?”
McGarvey looked up and nodded. “Send him in.”
Yemm came in, and McGarvey motioned him to have a seat. Todd came back on the line.
“She's fine. Unless something develops today, or sometime overnight, she can get out of here first thing in the morning.”
“Good. I'll get Security on getting you back here. Does she know what happened to her?”
“If you mean about the bindings being rigged, no. I haven't told her yet.”
“That's okay for now. But she'll have to be debriefed when you get back. She might have heard or seen something.”
“I'll bring the phone to her,” Todd said.
Yemm was grim-lipped, as if he was the bearer of more bad news. There didn't seem to be any end to it.
Elizabeth came on the line. She sounded sleepy, distant; she was drifting. “Hello, Daddy. I want to come home now.”
If McGarvey could have reached through the telephone to cradle his baby in his arms and pull her back to him he would have done it. “You're coming home in the morning, sweetheart. How do you feel?”
“Achy,” she said. “And tired,” she added after a longish pause.
“Get some rest, Liz. Do what the doctor tells you to do, and you'll be home in the morning.”
The line was dead for a moment or two. “Daddy?” Elizabeth said in a tiny voice. “Oh, God, I'm so sorryâ”
“It's all right, sweetheart,” McGarvey soothed. “Everything will be okay, I promise you. Your mother and I love you very much. Don't forget that.”
“That's enough,” Todd came back on the line. He sounded matter-of-fact, not angry.
“Take care of her, Todd,” McGarvey said. “And yourself. We'll see you in the morning.”
“We're going to find out who did this.”
“Count on itâ”
“There'll be no trial, Dad,” Todd said, his voice harsh. “No trial.” He broke the connection, and McGarvey hung up.
“How are they doing, boss?” Yemm asked.
It took a moment for him to come back. “They'll be coming home in the morning. Send a Gulfstream.”
“We'll get it out there this afternoon so it'll be standing by when they're ready,” Yemm said. “I found Otto. Or at least I found out where he got himself off to. He went to France. Commandeered an Aurora and took off from Andrews yesterday afternoon. Late. He logged the flight to what he called Special Operation Spotlight. I checked. There is no such operation.”
The Aurora was the air force's new spy plane, replacing the SR71 Blackbird. It flew to the edge of space at Mach 7. Based in New Mexico, it had been a very black project. Damned few people knew that it existed or that it was operational.
“Where'd it land?”
“Pontoise. The French air force base outside of Paris,” Yemm said. “We're still trying to unravel how he got the clearances not only from the French, but from our own air force.”
“Is he still there?”
“The airplane is,” Yemm said. “The French don't know what to make of it, and I didn't think that it was such a good idea to make a fuss. It's better to go along with him for now.”
“I'll have Dave Whittaker call the Paris station to be on the lookout for him. Any idea what he's doing over there? Specifically?”
“Nikolayev's name comes to mind,” Yemm replied. He was having a hard time of it. Something was bothering him. “Otto got the Colorado search up and running. Chris Walker in the Ops Center logged Otto's heads-up last night. It looks like Otto initiated his own ExComms, under both Elizabeth's and Todd's work names. And he found them before Ops did. Then he phoned Mrs. M.”
McGarvey fought down his fear. It wasn't Otto who called the house. Nor had it been Otto in the computer center or in Dr. Stenzel's office. A different personality had taken up residence in Otto's body, and the implications that followed were nothing short of staggering.
“We've pulled his files,” Yemm was saying. “Leastways the ones he hasn't blocked out.” He averted his eyes. He was embarrassed. It was something new. “We've also looked at Stenzel's report. The whole file on Otto, which goes back about twenty years.”
“He's done a lot of good things for the CIA.”
“Yes, sir. But we think that he might be losing it. Stenzel agrees.” Yemm chose his words with care. “If that's the case, then he could be a danger. At
the very least he's got the DO's mainframe screwed up pretty good. And he's running some kind of a maverick operation on his own.”
the very least he's got the DO's mainframe screwed up pretty good. And he's running some kind of a maverick operation on his own.”
“The old KGB. Nikolayev and Department Viktor.”
“Yeah,” Yemm said. “The assassination squads.”
The whispering was there again. The nagging little voices at the back of McGarvey's consciousness. There was nothing he could put his finger on. Nothing concrete; all the more disturbing because of the vagueness. Was it a monster coming after them? In their midst? Coming to scratch at Katy's sanity. Coming to kill them all?
“Otto was wearing his seat belt,” Yemm said, before McGarvey could give voice to that one objection. “He never used it before, by his own admission.”
“He was worriedâ”
“I'm sorry, boss, but we gotta keep going on this one. Unless you order me to stop.”
McGarvey turned away and looked out the windows. Otto and Louise had been the only guests at the wedding except for Todd and Elizabeth. Kathleen had taken him aside and straightened his bow tie, then given him a kiss on a freshly scrubbed cheek. “He cleans up good,” Louise said. She was proud of him.
“Indeed he does,” Kathleen had replied. There was just a moment there, an instant when everything had been absolute perfection.
“Do it,” he told Yemm. He turned around. “But walk lightly, Dick. If he's done nothing wrong, I don't want him banged up. He's having a hard enough time as it is. And if he's guilty, he'll be watching for someone to come after him. He's capable of doing a lot of damage to the Agency. A
lot
of damage.”
lot
of damage.”
Yemm shook his head. “I think it stinks, too, boss. Big-time.”
HE KNEW WHAT HE WAS FIGHTING NOW. AND FOR WHOM. IT WAS AS IF A VEIL HAD BEEN LIFTED FROM HIS EYES.
WASHINGTON
T
he limousine that carried McGarvey into the city from fortress CIA in the woods was a soft gray leather and smoked glass cocoon. As one crossed the river on the Roosevelt Bridge the Lincoln Memorial was off to the right, and the massive granite pile of the State Department was to the left. One hundred fifty years ago Lincoln dealt with a divided nation. Today State dealt with a divided world, and the director of Central Intelligence was supposed to be the one with all the answers.
he limousine that carried McGarvey into the city from fortress CIA in the woods was a soft gray leather and smoked glass cocoon. As one crossed the river on the Roosevelt Bridge the Lincoln Memorial was off to the right, and the massive granite pile of the State Department was to the left. One hundred fifty years ago Lincoln dealt with a divided nation. Today State dealt with a divided world, and the director of Central Intelligence was supposed to be the one with all the answers.
Since a week ago Sunday his world had been turned upside down. They were under a siege mentality. Nothing was getting done. They were merely reacting to whatever came their way. And he was just as bad as everyone else.
In the old days he had picked up his tent and run.
In the past week he had surrounded his tent with what he hoped was an impregnable wall and hunkered down.
It was time to fight back.
McGarvey straightened up as they worked their way through traffic on Constitution Avenue, and he glanced over at Paterson, who was reading something. Murphy had set great stock by the Agency's new general counsel, and to this point McGarvey had not been disappointed with the man. But Paterson was an outsider, and that's how he wanted to keep it. At one point he'd explained to Murphy that defense attorneys work with killers, but didn't live their lives. “I'll help keep the CIA in compliance with the law, but I'll never be a spy.”
It struck McGarvey all at once that with Kathleen hospitalized he had no one to confide in. Larry Danielle, who'd worked his way all the way up from a job as a field officer with the OSS during World War II, to head the Directorate of Operations, and finally ended his long career as Deputy Director of Central Intelligence, had been McGarvey's rudder, a steady hand, an intelligent, sympathetic ear. Almost a father figure since McGarvey's parents were dead. He'd never once told McGarvey what to do, or even how to do it. But he'd always been there, waiting in the corridor, or getting in his car in the parking lot, or getting a sandwich in the Agency's cafeteria, to give a word of encouragement or advice.
Danielle's favorite lines were: Be careful what you wish for, you might get it. Slow down before and after an operation, but when you find yourself in the middle of the fray, my boy, then go hell-bent for leather. Very often it'll be the only way you can preserve your life. Develop the ability to surround yourself with friends and lovers, but trust no one. If you can't juggle that lot without driving yourself insane, then get out of the business. Better men than you have failed. And lesser men than you have succeeded brilliantly. It's often not a matter of intelligence, rather it's the peculiar mind-set of the spy.
Danielle had been a slow-moving, soft-spoken man for whom appearances belied the truth. In fact he was a man of rare intelligence and consummate good grace and old world manners. The last of the gentlemen spies, Murphy had said at Danielle's funeral.
McGarvey missed him. Missed the old generation that had created the CIA. And somehow that was amusing just now. He smiled.
“What in heaven's name are you thinking about, Mr. Director?” Paterson asked in amazement.
“I'm becoming old-fashioned,” McGarvey replied. Danielle would have called it something different.
“From where I sit you're the only one making any sense,” Paterson said.
“And you'll need to be pragmatic today, because Hammond sounded positively delighted on the phone. Whatever he's going to spring on us will be good. So good, in fact, I wasn't able to get so much as a hint from any of his people.”
“And you'll need to be pragmatic today, because Hammond sounded positively delighted on the phone. Whatever he's going to spring on us will be good. So good, in fact, I wasn't able to get so much as a hint from any of his people.”
“One of my old operations.”
“Maybe.” Paterson shrugged.
“If they're looking for more blood, they'll find it. There's not much we can do to sugarcoat the truth.”
They passed the National Gallery of Art and approached the Capitol itself, which was surrounded by the House and Senate office buildings, the Supreme Court and Library of Congress, and the Madison and Adams Buildings.
The stuff of government was done here by men and womenâsome of them average, some of them dedicated and brilliant; a few others saints or crooks, and still others so dim that they weren't qualified to write a grocery list let alone a law. Average Americans. But the system worked, McGarvey thought.
The crowd of journalists in front of the Hart Senate Office Building was larger than Thursday. Yemm had stayed behind to help direct the investigation into Rencke's background. The replacement driver and bodyguard hustled McGarvey and Paterson up the stairs through the mob.
“Mr. McGarvey, is it true that you're withdrawing your nomination?” one of the reporters shouted.
McGarvey didn't look up at that or any of the other similar questions thrown at him until they were safely inside the building. “That was Hammond's doing.”
Paterson nodded. “You're learning. Whatever he has, he thinks it's good.”
“Do you think that he and Madden are sleeping together?”
Paterson was startled. “I seriously doubt it, but I wouldn't be surprised.” He looked closer at McGarvey. “Have you heard something?”
McGarvey shook his head. “No. Just wondering.”
There were only a handful of onlookers in the hearing room, mostly assistants to the committee members, when McGarvey and Paterson came in and took their places. When the doors were closed, the clerk called the hearings to order and the six senators filed in. Hammond and Madden were beaming. The others seemed only mildly interested. Clawson gave McGarvey a sympathetic look, as if to say: Hear you're having some trouble, sorry about dragging you here today.
Hammond reminded McGarvey that he was still under oath.
“Yes, I understand, Senator,” McGarvey replied.
“Good. Then let's proceed.” He opened a file folder, read for a moment, then looked up. “A number of disturbing items were brought to my attention over the weekend. When we go over this new material I think that we'll all agree that Mr. McGarvey should withdraw his nomination.”
“I was asked that question by the media on the way in,” McGarvey said. “Evidently everyone knows what's going on except for me.”
A few people in the room sniggered.
“Is it true, Mr. McGarvey, that one of your top aides”âHammond consulted his fileâ“a man by the name of Otto Rencke, has been missing for the past thirty-six hours and possibly longer?”
“Where did you get that information, Senator?” It had to be someone inside the Agency. Either that, or Louise Horn had told them, though for the life of him he couldn't imagine her having any contact with Hammond.
“This committee's sources are not the issue,” Hammond shot back. “Is it true that Otto Rencke is missing?”
“No, it's not true,” McGarvey responded.
Hammond glanced at Madden. “You are under oath, Mr. McGarvey.”
“Mr. Rencke is in France at the moment on a matter of some importance to the CIA. I can't say anything more than that because it concerns an ongoing operation that's important to national security.”
Hammond didn't miss a beat. “But isn't it true that you placed Mr. Rencke on administrative leave after he underwent a psychological evaluation by an in-house psychologist?”
Paterson sat forward. “Senators, that is information from the personnel files of a CIA officer. It has nothing to do with the purpose of these proceedings, which are meant solely to determine Mr. McGarvey's qualifications to continue leading the Agency as its director.”
Hammond smiled faintly. “I'm glad that we agree on at least that much,” he said. “I brought up Mr. Rencke's name because he is a close personal friend of Mr. McGarvey's, and he was involved in a near-fatal automobile accident recently.” Hammond looked directly at McGarvey. “If it was an accident.”
“The accident is under investigation by us and by the Virginia Highway Patrol.”
“But in light of subsequent developments the current thinking at the CIA is that the incident with Mr. Rencke was probably not an accident. It fits with the assassination attempt against yourself, your wife and your bodyguard in the Virgin Islands over the weekend, and the nearly fatal attack on your
daughter and her husband at Vail, Colorado. Isn't that so, Mr. McGarvey?”
daughter and her husband at Vail, Colorado. Isn't that so, Mr. McGarvey?”
Paterson put a hand over the microphone and leaned toward McGarvey. “Where is he getting his information?”
“I don't know,” McGarvey said. “A few people in the building know the whole story. Fred Rudolph knows most of it.”
“How about the White House?”
“Not all of it,” McGarvey said.
“Mr. McGarvey?” Hammond prompted. He'd gotten the attention of the rest of the committee.
“What was the question?”
“Was an attempt made on your life over the weekend?”
“We're still investigating the incident. But, yes, it appears that someone tried to kill me.”
“What about your daughter and her husband?”
“We're also investigating that incident. But it appears that someone tried to kill my daughter.”
One of the Senate aides got up and started for the doors.
“Stop right there, Mark, and sit down,” Senator Clawson ordered. The aide looked at Hammond, but then sat down. “No one is leaving these chambers until we get some rules straight.”
“You're out of order,” Hammond said. He was enjoying himself.
“We're talking here about the safety of a very loyal and dedicated American, as well as the safety of his family,” Clawson shot back. “I don't know who your sources are, and I doubt if you'd tell me if I asked, but you're overstepping your bounds. Not to mention common decencyâ”
“Oh no you don't,” Hammond responded sharply. “If you'll hear me out I was about to make a valid and important point.”
“Everyone will have his or her say, John,” Brenda Madden broke in.
Clawson was frustrated. None of the other committee members were offering their support. Most of them owed political favors to Hammond and Madden, or were too junior to protest. “I intend bringing up the conduct of this hearing to the full Senate.”
“That certainly is your prerogative,” Hammond said benignly. He turned back to McGarvey. “I understand that your ordeal over the weekend, along with the news of the attack on your daughter, caused such a strain for your wife that she wasâ”
McGarvey raised his hand and pointed a finger at Hammond. “That's enough, you sonofabitch!”
Brenda Madden said something as an aside, Paterson put a restraining
hand on McGarvey's arm, and Hammond sat back smiling.
hand on McGarvey's arm, and Hammond sat back smiling.
“You
will
leave my wife out of this,” McGarvey said, barely in control of himself.
will
leave my wife out of this,” McGarvey said, barely in control of himself.
“Or what, Mr. McGarvey?”
“Or I
will
withdraw my nomination, which would make me a private citizen,” McGarvey said, steadying down somewhat. “That's something you don't want, Senator. Not that way.”
will
withdraw my nomination, which would make me a private citizen,” McGarvey said, steadying down somewhat. “That's something you don't want, Senator. Not that way.”
“See hereâ”Brenda Madden shouted, but Hammond held up a hand for her to be silent.
“Is it a fact, Mr. McGarvey, that at a recent staff meeting the Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, a career intelligence officer who has time and again demonstrated a
steady
hand on the helm while you were off shooting up the countrysideâhis name is Richard Adkinsâsuggested that you step down as director? Not only that, but take your family to a safe place until the real professionals at the CIA and the FBI find out who is trying to harm you, your family and your friends? Is that true?”
steady
hand on the helm while you were off shooting up the countrysideâhis name is Richard Adkinsâsuggested that you step down as director? Not only that, but take your family to a safe place until the real professionals at the CIA and the FBI find out who is trying to harm you, your family and your friends? Is that true?”
“Yes, that is true,” McGarvey said, settling down. He knew what he was fighting now. And for whom. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. “At that highly classified staff meeting we also decided that running away would do us no good. I'm needed to help find out what's going on. If I go into hiding, then the person or persons who are after me will simply hunker down and wait for me to come out of hiding.”
McGarvey pushed the microphone away and got to his feet.
“We're not finished here,” Hammond blustered.
“We'll find out who your source is inside the Agency,” McGarvey promised. “When we do, he or she will be prosecuted under the National Secrets Act, which carries with it a sentence of life imprisonment.”
“You
will
sit down, McGarvey,” Hammond shouted.
will
sit down, McGarvey,” Hammond shouted.
“Sorry, Senators, but I have work to do,” McGarvey told them. He turned, and with Paterson right behind him, left the hearing chamber. Hammond was banging his gavel, and Madden was shouting something in her nasal voice.
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