“Katherine? Is that you?” Jordan James asked.
“Yes, Jordan! And you don’t know how good it is to hear your voice… but where are you calling from?”
“I’m at home, using the secure line State installed last week.”
“No one else there?”
“No. Why?”
Once again she ran through the particulars of what had happened, ending with the potentially offensive question she couldn’t avoid. “Uncle Jordan, I hate to ask you this, but are you sure of whomever you talked to at Langley? Because someone intercepted everything I said to you.”
She heard him clear his throat.
“That’s why I’ve been frantic to reach you, Kat. There’s a very serious leak.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the problem isn’t Langley or my phones, the problem is at the Bureau. You can’t tell them anything until the leak is plugged.”
“That… that’s just… that doesn’t make sense.”
“Nevertheless, you’ve been targeted by someone, and all the information they needed originated with your call to Jake Rhoades.”
“He’s my boss, Jordan! Jake absolutely can’t be—”
“Of course Jake’s not involved. I would be flabbergasted if any real FBI agent is involved, but someone’s got access to the Bureau. You have to trust me now, Kat. Didn’t you just tell me the IDs of those guys in Honolulu were flawless?”
“Yes.”
“Most likely because they were genuine.”
“No! We don’t have any agents by those names—”
“Not the point, Kat. The IDs may well have been fabricated by the same office that prepared your ID. These people have found their way inside. Didn’t they know the language? Didn’t you say they sounded like your fellow FBI agents?”
“Yes.” She felt her head spinning, her resistance to this bizarre idea crumbling in the face of his authority and logic.
“Kat, the problem is deep. Whoever is running this show has access to everything they need to target you and your entourage. I can’t tell you how I know this, because it comes from a startling source, but my one hope is that it’s only a single mole at the Bureau, and most likely clerical.”
She said nothing for a few seconds as she sat with her pulse pounding in her ears, wondering just what was real.
“So what do I do, Jordan?”
“First and foremost, you cannot trust any of your compatriots at the Bureau until we know where the leak is. You have to assume that virtually every conversation goes right offshore to whoever is behind this operation.”
“Offshore? We’re sure of that?”
“Nothing else fits. Remember when I headed the CIA fifteen years ago? You don’t forget the earmarks.”
“You’ve had so many important jobs, Uncle Jordan, I forgot about CIA.”
“Well, trust me, Honey. Where are you headed right now?” he asked.
She thought quickly and decided one communication had been enough. “Jordan, I… don’t think I should speak the words on this line.”
“Of course. That’s a good precaution. But, did you tell Jake Rhoades?”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid of that. Okay, Kat, now listen to me. Whatever you do, do not get off that aircraft the normal way, or run any risk of being intercepted by, or going with, anyone purporting to be FBI agents. If you’ve told Jake, there will most certainly be a party waiting for you, but not the one you want.”
“But Jake will make certain that doesn’t happen again.”
“He got outfoxed in Honolulu, didn’t he? Whoever these people are, they’ll find a way to divert, contain, distract, or otherwise neutralize whomever Jake sends. We do not know what’s real here, and until I can get to the bottom of this — and by the way, I’m taking this to the White House in the morning — until we know where the leak is, you’re going to have to stay out in the cold and tell your own people nothing, because when you do, the information goes right to the enemy.”
“Jordan…”
“No questions, Katherine. Just do it. Your life depends on it. Understand?”
“Yes, but Jordan, I’m an FBI agent. How can I run from my own people?”
“If you don’t, Katherine, I’ll lose you, and we’ll lose those survivors you brought out with you. Look, before your dad died, I promised him I’d try to look after you as much as I could, and this is one where I can guarantee he’d say the same thing: Find a hole, take the others with you, and go hide in it. When you’re secure and certain that no one knows where you are, call me. But not at State. Only on this phone. We need time to ferret out who’s behind all this. And we will find them. Your responsibility is to protect yourself and the five people with you. Just concentrate on that.”
“Okay, Uncle Jordan. Thank you.”
“It’s going to be okay, Katherine.”
She disconnected and sat rubbing her forehead, more confused than ever, and aware that Robert was about to burst with questions.
“An uncle?” he asked, as tentatively as he dared.
She nodded, explaining who had been on the other end of the line.
“The Jordan James?” Robert asked, his eyes flaring as he sat forward. “You know him?”
She nodded. “Longtime friend of my dad’s and a Dutch uncle all my life.”
“I’m impressed, Kat! James is in the same league with John Foster Dulles, Clark Clifford, and Henry Kissinger. The perpetual presidential adviser.”
“That’s my Uncle Jordan.” Kat turned to look Robert in the eye. “Robert, wouldn’t Walter Carnegie have found a way to safeguard what he’d discovered and get it to you somehow?”
Robert nodded slowly. “If there was any way he could. I mean, I don’t know what scared him away or kept him away from our meeting. But he was the typical scientist, and he would have been obsessed with safeguarding whatever he’d found.”
“Then somewhere out there is a predeath message to you from Carnegie with the information we need, or at least clues on how to find it. You agree?”
“Yeah, but where? In a letter? In my E-mail? Stuffed under my doormat? I mean, the possibilities are endless.”
“Not to a panicked man, Robert. We have to think like he was thinking, and see only the options he would see, and we don’t have much time. I’ve got the sick feeling our murderous little terrorist group is getting ready to strike again somewhere, and whatever Carnegie was trying to pass you is the antidote.”
Robert MacCabe sighed. “Then let’s connect the laptop to this incredibly expensive seat back phone system and get busy.”
CHAPTER 34
For nearly two hours, Robert MacCabe had tried various ideas through the connection of his computer to the seat back phone system. Personal E-mail, his electronic mailbox at The Washington Post, a manual search by his secretary ordered by E-mail, and an hour’s worth of attempts to hack into Walter Carnegie’s E-mail account had turned up nothing. With the DC-10 beginning its descent for landing in Seattle, frustration was growing.
“Do you have any other Internet accounts or E-mail accounts?” Kat asked.
“No,” he replied, sitting in thought for a few seconds. “Wait a minute.” He entered a series of commands and the computer began dialing another number.
“What?” Kat asked.
“A brainstorm, and probably useless,” he replied. The logo of an Internet service appeared on the screen, and Robert waited with his fingers poised over the keyboard.