“Okay, how about I read just a couple of key sentences? The shrink wrote, ‘I feel I should point out that the candidate template you describe is a man without conscience, or at least one who has the ability to repress emotions that many believe are key to a healthy, well-adjusted human being. It’s my feeling that such individuals, depending on their training, could become extremely dangerous.’ ”
Harrington said, “See there? That’s the kind of man they wanted.” He told me that, in the same letter, the psychiatrist used the phrase ‘cold-blooded analysts’ to describe an ideal candidate, which caused the diplomat to chuckle. “Somehow, that doesn’t sound like the man who wrestled around with his conscience before taking my daughter to bed. Maybe you’ve matured, Commander Ford. Or softened up a little.”
He was enjoying this too much. I wondered why. As for me, I was tired of the implicit drama that he seemed to be prolonging. I was tired of waiting, tired of the low-grade anxiety I felt while he continued to avoid the obvious: Had he or had he not found my name in those files?
It was time to put an end to it. I said, “Why are telling me this? Are you suggesting that I was somehow a part of some kind of illegal army? Or whatever the hell you would call something like that?”
He laughed. “Haven’t you been listening? Of course I am! Are you denying it?”
“You found my name in one of those files? Because, if you did find my name, there must be-”
“Relax, Ford. That’s what you’ve been worried about the whole time. I’m sorry. I was being cruel. The obvious question: Are you mentioned by name? I think you’ll be relieved. Nope, you are not mentioned. There are no names in the file. The administrators did a superb job of protecting their people. Your code number’s in there and your code name. Lots of other bits of telltale information that helped me pick you out. But no, the name Marion W. Ford is not included, which is why I’ve never had to pass the files along to my superiors. If we don’t know who you and your teammates are, there’s no one to prosecute. And you could be prosecuted-there’s no statue of limitations on murder, as I’m sure you know.”
I felt a sense of relief so great that, when I noticed one of the Sanibel guides, Alex Payne, waving at me through the Temptation’s window, I grinned mightily and waved back. I said to Harrington, “Names or no names, I don’t know why you’re bothering me with all this cloak-and-dagger business. Aren’t we supposed to be discussing Lindsey?”
“You’d be a pretty fair poker player, Ford. You just did a good job of hiding the new little bounce that’s in your voice. And relief. You’re one of them, alright. The people in your team have become a very private and personal hobby of mine. Very impressive. They cross-trained you with every branch of Special Operations-the SEALs, Green Berets, Marine Recon, passing you off as members of Studies and Observations or the real NSA, but you belong to neither the military nor the Department of Defense. Ingenious, because who’s going to know? You guys certainly aren’t going to talk-there were fewer than, what? Two dozen of you?”
I had no idea how many of us there were. I’d met only the six men I trained with. But I said, “How do you come up with crazy ideas like this, Hal? Comic books? Late-night television?”
“About you? One thing that tipped me off is your profession, a marine biologist. But wait-the way I first made the connection was, I get a report that the guy who saved my daughter apparently has all kinds of surprising combat skills, but he refuses to take credit for what he did. I thought, That’s weird. He won’t admit he’s a hero?
“Then they tell me that even the FBI computers can’t find any information on you. Even weirder is, they tell me you clearly hate the idea of media attention. No interest at all in having your fifteen minutes of fame or doing the talk show circuit or signing a big book deal. These days, people will do anything to make money or get attention, but not you. It made no sense. So a little light went on in my head. Could you be one of The Negotiators? That’s where the marine biologist part comes in.
“What I did was, I went through all the bios. The FBI told me a local marine biologist had saved my girl, and I knew there was a biologist in The Negotiator files somewhere. I’d read them all, but I went back through them again last night. There you were. Assignments all over the world. Central America, Africa, Asia. Always under the guise of research. Extended stays and very deep cover.”
I said, “I didn’t realize I was so well-traveled,” giving it a facetious touch.
“Oh yes. All of you covered a lot of ground but traveled in very different circles. You’re part of an eclectic bunch for a reason-a doctorate and a real profession are great cover, and the President wanted his little group to drop real deep roots. There’re a couple of CPAs, a couple of attorneys, one journalist, three physicians, several computer experts, a politician, even an actor. Plus you, the marine biologist. You can go anywhere in the world to study fish, mix with the scientific community, do your real intelligence work on the sly, then come home. That’s how I made the connection, Ford. That’s how I knew you’re one of them. Something else you should be aware of?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“In your file, I also read about a mission that was assigned to you several years back. Something your anonymous superior called a ‘Blue Light’ mission. As in the last thing a person sees before he dies is a blue light, correct? It wasn’t your first, but”-He began to chuckle-“I find it ironic that the target is now, apparently, a friend of yours. He was with you during your interview with the FBI. I found it shocking, I have to admit, but amusing, too. Sighurdhr Tomlinson-did I pronounce his name correctly?”
I said, “You seem to be threatening me with events I know nothing about.”
“Really? I don’t need your name to prove it’s you in that file. There are all kinds of ways. What I haven’t told you yet is that I’ve discovered the identity of another one of your teammates. He’s become a very rich and powerful man. He’d be a real headline-grabber. It’s quite a fun hobby, your little group. Prove one of you exists, it’s an oddity. Prove there are two of you, the Attorney General’s Office might decide they’ve got a case. I’d hate to have to make those files public, then have to give them all the other information I’ve collected.”
I said, “Is this more of what you call diplomacy?”
“No. This is the way I ask favors.”
“Let me guess. The favor has something to do with you being an obsessive, overly protective father.”
He chuckled. “And revenge, too. Don’t forget revenge.”
It didn’t take Harrington long to detail what he wanted me to do and exactly how he expected me to do it.
He wanted to use me as bait, plain and simple. He wanted to use me to lure in the men who’d attacked his daughter. He couldn’t be certain they’d come after me, but there was a chance, and a chance was all he wanted. When I asked him, “Why not let law enforcement handle it?” he said, “Oh, I plan to. You think I’m suggesting vigilante justice?” He laughed. “That’s more your department, isn’t it? No, I just want to speed up the procedure, that’s all. Find the bastards and put them behind bars now.”
Why didn’t I believe him?
He went on. “I’m not certain who targeted Lindsey, but I’ve got a pretty good idea. If it’s the guy I think it is, he’s beyond dangerous. He’s a sociopath. Which is why I want to nail him as quick as I can.”
I said, “Whoever planned Lindsey’s kidnapping was no idiot. They did their homework; it was a very professional job.”
“I didn’t say he was stupid, I said he was a sociopath. I think it’s a guy by the name of Edgar Cordero. Edgar, in my estimation, is one of the most ruthless men in Colombia. You want an example? A few years ago, one of Edgar’s young lieutenants began to deal marijuana on the side. Not in any big-time way. Just to make a little extra cash and probably with his sights set on going into business for himself one day down the road. Edgar found out and went berserk. Literally.