Marsha forgot about slapping Sheridan. Instead, she wanted to pull out her sidearm and shoot him. But she remembered what Alistair had said to her, and instead breathed deeply and kept her powder dry.
SEVENTEEN
Ellie Hallowes introduced herself to the security guards in the foyer of CIA headquarters in Langley and scrutinized her surroundings, because her deep-cover role made her feel exposed within the prominent high temple of espionage. “You should have me down for a pass. Director Parker’s expecting me.”
The guard made a phone call, got her to sign paperwork, and gave her an electronic swipe card that had the inscription TEMPORARY. “Wait here. Someone’s coming to get you.”
That someone arrived five minutes later, all smiles and handshakes. Ellie had no idea who he was, and didn’t care.
“Come with me. Been a while since you were here, right?”
“A while. Yes.”
“Nothing’s changed.” The man’s smile broadened. “Coffee’s still lousy.”
Just like the lame jokes. She followed him through the security gates, keeping her gaze low while desperately hoping she didn’t bump into someone who might shout out something like, “Ellie Hallowes, as I live and breathe!”
But no one took any notice of her as she rode an elevator and was guided along corridors that contained rooms with initials and number codes designating which teams they belonged to. She wondered if hostile intelligence agencies knew what these codes meant, because everyone in Langley did, and that meant there’d be a good chance someone had leaked their meaning. Langley was anything but deep cover — too many people, only one set of loose lips needed to damage the place. That said, there was a part of Langley that was a steel-plated fortress of secrecy.
She was ushered into a spacious room containing a large desk, computer, conference table and chairs, walls containing framed photos of Presidents Obama, Bush junior, Clinton, and Bush senior, and windows overlooking part of Langley’s manicured grounds. Ed Parker stood from behind his desk, walked to her, and shook her hand. “Great to see you in one piece, Ellie. That was a shitty deal in Norway.”
Senator Jellicoe didn’t get up, smile, or offer any greeting. He just stared at her from his seat at the conference table.
Parker pulled out a chair at the table and gestured toward it. “Can we get you anything?”
“No.” Ellie sat, wishing she could be a few feet farther away from Jellicoe — actually, wishing she weren’t in the same room as him.
Jellicoe kept his eyes on her. The scent of his pungent cologne was mixed with sweat.
Parker sat next to her so that they were both opposite Jellicoe. Ellie knew it was Parker’s way of saying that he was on her side. It was bullshit.
Parker asked, “Did Welfare visit you at your hotel?”
Ellie nodded.
“Much use?”
“I hadn’t realized the Agency’s Welfare Department had gone all amateur psychologist. Seems they want everyone to have PTSD so that they can sit down, have a chat, and share the horrors. All that kind of stuff. Not much use when life’s a little more complicated than that. I preferred it when they came over with a bag of groceries and a bottle of Scotch.”
Parker laughed. “Me too. Sorry. I just wanted them to check you were okay during your week off. Before you came here.”
“Make sure I wasn’t losing my mind? Put me on suicide watch?”
“Just check you were okay.”
“I’m fine, and I’m here. Reporting for duty. Sir.”
Jellicoe took out a pink silk handkerchief and began twining it around his flabby fingers. “You being sarcastic, girl?”
She glanced at Parker. “Is the senator cleared to speak to me?”
Parker nodded.
“About specifics? Norway?”
“He is.”
Jellicoe wrapped the handkerchief tight around a finger. “What do you think happened in Norway?”
“Russians killed my asset and tried to kill me.”
“How do you know they were Russians?”
“They spoke Russian, looked Russian, and after all, we had advance intel that Herald was under threat from the Russians. You telling me I got it wrong?”
“No. Just wanted to hear what you thought happened.”
“Well, that’s it in a nutshell.”
“Not quite.”
Ellie was silent.
“More to it than that.”
Ellie held Jellicoe’s gaze.
“You did the right thing telling Sheridan what Cochrane had done.” Jellicoe yanked hard on the scarf as if he was attempting to strangle his finger. “But I want to know what Cochrane then told you.”
She shrugged. “He said that a senior Russian spy had ordered the hit; that Cochrane had disobeyed Agency orders by killing his men; and that he wasn’t going to comply with Sheridan’s instruction to give himself up to the U.S. or U.K. embassies in Oslo. Then he left.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
Ellie darted a look of incredulity at Parker before returning her attention to Jellicoe. “Should I have fought him? Not that easy, given I’m just”—she smiled—“a girl.” Her smile vanished. “But I did tell him to comply with Sheridan’s orders. And just so you know that I’m giving you a balanced account, I also thanked him for saving my life.”
Parker responded, “That’s understandable.”
Jellicoe removed the handkerchief from his fingers and patted his jowls. “You curious as to why we had orders in place for Cochrane not to open fire on the Russian spy and his team?”
“Of course I’m damn curious! Those orders would have had me dead! Are you going to tell me what they’re about?”
“Nope.”
“Thought not.”
“Cochrane give the Russian spy or our orders a name?”
Antaeus. Ferryman.
“No,” Ellie lied.
“Say where he was going?”
Ellie had predicted this question, and days ago had decided on an answer that she thought the Agency might swallow. “He seemed confused. I asked him what he’d do, and he’d told me that he had to go someplace safe. My guess is he’s laying low for the time being, trying to decide what to do. Probably Europe or Middle East. But I could be wrong. Maybe he’s trying to get as far away from Norway and the States as he can. Don’t blame him.”
“You feel compassion toward Cochrane?”
“A bit. Yes.”
“Damsel in distress rescued by knight in shining armor?”
Regardless of the events in Norway, Ellie hated the idea of being viewed as a damsel in distress. Then again, Will Cochrane was the first man to have saved her life. She recalled the way he gave her Herald’s coat. The memory made her feel wanted, even though the sensation seemed strange. She feigned annoyance. “I told him to give himself up and that in return I’d put in a good word for him.”
“You’d take a polygraph test so that we can check your version of events?”
“Sure.” Ellie meant what she’d said. Polygraph tests were wholly unreliable and she’d proven in the past that she could easily manipulate them. “I can do it today if you like.”
“We’ll let you know.”
Ellie drummed her fingers. This was the moment she’d been leading up to. “No denying, at first I was major league pissed that you were willing to sacrifice me for something I’m not cleared to know about. But I’ve had a week to get my thinking straight. I get it. Doesn’t mean I like it, but hey, it’s a game I’ve played as well. What bothers me now is why Herald was killed and why a senior Russian spy turned up in person to oversee it being done.”
“Could be any number of reasons.”