Will agreed, and said, “I think I know what this is all about. In 2005, Parker didn’t recruit a man he allegedly believed to be Gregori Shonin. Instead, Antaeus recruited Parker, who knew from the outset who he was dealing with. And that means Herald was right when he told you in Norway that there was a Russian spy at the Agency’s top table.” He looked away toward the exit while feeling overwhelming anger. “Ed Parker is being run by Antaeus, who’s using him to feed us information that will lead to the death of Cobalt. Ed Parker is the mole. And his code name is Ferryman.”
“The Russians hate terrorists like Cobalt just as much as we do,” Ellie said. “Maybe he’s using us because he knows that we’re the only ones who can kill Cobalt.”
“Maybe.” Will was frowning. “But Antaeus wouldn’t run an operation this elaborate and dangerous to help America. His career has been built around his primary objective to cripple the States.” A thought suddenly entered his head, and his eyes widened.
“Will?”
Will was silent.
“What is it?”
Will shook his head in disbelief as he muttered to himself, “Clever, clever Antaeus.”
“I don’t understand.”
Will looked directly at Ellie. “If I’m right about what’s really going on, when the United States of America drops its bomb on Cobalt, what will follow will be nothing short of a disaster.”
THIRTY-ONE
The Washington Marriott Wardman Park hotel lobby was buzzing with suited delegates who were attending an advertising conference. Ellie was glad the place was so busy; it meant she could get her things from her room, check out, and leave the place without being noticed.
Then she’d head to Mexico and wait for Will to find her.
She smiled as she walked along the sixth-floor corridor, swiped her key card through her room’s lock, and entered the room.
She switched on the light and froze.
A man was sitting in the armchair, staring at her with a smile on his face.
She was about to run, but someone else behind her thrust a thick plastic bag over her head, pulled the bag’s drawstrings tight around her throat, and locked her arms in a viselike grip.
She tried to gasp for oxygen inside the airtight bag. She thrashed her legs, but whoever was holding her was too strong and knew exactly what he was doing.
Something else was in the bag.
Cotton wool swabs.
They gave off a toxic odor.
One that made her light-headed.
Of course: a chemical compound that renders humans unconscious when inhaled.
Her legs felt incredibly heavy.
As she lost consciousness, her last thought was that thank goodness she’d met Will when she did.
Augustus looked at Elijah and grinned. “She’s out for the count.” Like his twin brother, he was wearing a smart suit and had his straight, shoulder-length black hair tied in a ponytail. Anyone looking at them as they’d entered the hotel earlier would no doubt have surmised that they were arty ad exec types.
Elijah got out of the seat and helped Augustus lift Ellie into a straight-backed desk chair and tie her to it with a rope. Then Augustus pulled out a military knife.
At 7:10 P.M., Ed Parker opened his refrigerator door with the intention of pouring himself a large glass of Chablis, but stopped when Catherine came rushing into the room, a look of deep concern on her face.
“Ed, there’s four men at the door. They’re FBI.”
“FBI?” Ed’s heart started racing.
“They’ve asked to speak to you. Said it was serious.” She gripped his arm.
Ed’s thoughts were in turmoil.
Because when Feds turned up at a spook’s home and said they wanted to speak about something serious, it usually had one outcome.
Arrest.
And a life sentence in a maximum-security prison.
“Jesus.” Ed’s mind was racing.
Catherine frowned. “Have you done something wrong?”
Ed couldn’t answer.
“Is this about Project Ferryman?”
Ed rubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know, can’t be sure, I…”
Catherine gripped him harder. “Ferryman is an Agency matter; the Bureau has no jurisdiction over it, and therefore no jurisdiction over your involvement. You’ve done nothing wrong and don’t need to tell them anything. Hold firm to that fact.”
She released her grip.
Ed nodded, inhaling deeply. He wished Catherine was right, but knew that the Bureau could stick its nose wherever it liked if it got the faintest whiff of treachery or corruption or worse. He grabbed a dish towel, used it to mop the sweat off his face, and allowed Catherine to tighten the knot on his tie and use her fingers to straighten his hair. “Where’s Crystal?”
“In her room, doing her homework.”
“Don’t let her come downstairs,” he said. He walked to the front door. The four men were all wearing blue FBI Windbreakers and baseball caps.
One of them said, “Mr. Parker?”
Ed nodded, his heart in his throat and his stomach in knots.
“We’ve been sent to speak to you.” He showed him his ID. “Seems you’ve been involved in something that’s going to get you in trouble.”
Ed tried to decide what to say. With no forethought, he blurted, “Trouble is, I don’t know what the trouble is.”
The agents laughed.
Probably to put him at ease and display the bizarre camaraderie that can sometimes be on show between an arresting officer and the perp he wants to put cuffs on.
“We won’t hold that against you.” The agent pointed at a black sedan that was parked across the street.
No doubt it was a Bureau car, the one they were going to take him away in.
The FBI officer said, “You’re going to see that day and night. Two of us will be in it at all times. We’ll work in twelve-hour shifts.” The agent smiled. “It’s just a precaution, but apparently you and a handful of other Agency folk need to be protected while Will Cochrane’s still loose. We’ll be following you to and from work, and when you’re home we’ll be sitting in our car outside, drinking coffee and watching over you. All we ask in return is that you stick to speed limits when driving and call us if you see anything suspicious.”
“Suspicious?”
“A man coming to kill you.”
Ed didn’t know if he felt total relief or abject fear. “Sure, sure. You want me to alert Agency security that you’ll be parked outside Langley while I’m at work?”
“That’s already taken care of.”
Ed glanced back toward his house. “Should we temporarily move someplace else? How serious is this threat?”
The agent patted his jacket. “Mr. Parker, we got enough armaments on us and in our vehicle to take down a gang of professional bank robbers, let alone a single guy. Plus, we got direct lines to D.C. SWAT and their helos. You’re going to be fine. Unless you need us, pretend we’re not here.” He nodded toward the interior of Ed’s home. “And please tell Mrs. Parker that we apologize if our presence at your home made her worry.”
“Seems to me that we’re in good hands.” Ed checked his watch. “I got to make some calls, and”—he smiled—“pour myself a large drink.”
Lindsay Sheridan poured brandy into two glasses and placed them on a side table between her husband and Senator Jellicoe, in front of the sumptuous living room’s roaring fire. “Is there anything else that you need from me, Charles?”
Charles Sheridan glanced at her with an expression of contempt. “No. Just don’t disturb us, okay? And if I hear that damn kitchen TV from in here, I’ll smash it on the floor.”
Lindsay smiled at Jellicoe to hide her embarrassment at Charles’s comment and to put the senator at ease. Not that Jellicoe seemed to care one hoot. He seemed as irritated with Lindsay’s presence in the room as her husband was.