Outside Santiago when he killed the Butcher of Chile and his wife.
Again in the flooding tunnels beneath a castle in Portugal.
In Japan.
In Moscow.
In San Francisco.
Even here in Washington.
“Are you going back to the office this afternoon, sir?” Julien asked.
“Should I stick around?”
“No, I won’t be needing you today,” McGarvey said, getting out. “In fact, you’re being reassigned. I expect Dick Adkins will be needing you. As of now he’s the new DCI.”
Julien nodded tightly; his round face and serious eyes displayed no surprise. “It’s true then; you’ve resigned?”
McGarvey wasn’t surprised either. “It’s a hell of a note if even the CIA can’t keep a secret.”
“Yes, sir,” Julien said. He cracked a slight smile. “Good hunting, Mr. Director.”
“Thanks,” McGarvey told him. They shook hands, and he looked his bodyguard in the eye. “Be careful over the next few days about who you mention that to. Some serious shit is probably going to come down around our heads.”
Julien nodded again. “Like I said, Mr. Director, good hunting. We’ll take care of the shop for you while you’re gone.”
The chief of security had notified the house detail of McGarvey’s new status, so no one was surprised when he showed up at home early, least of all Kathleen. She came to the head of the stairs when he walked in and reset the alarm. He looked up at her. She seemed brittle.
“I’ve started to pack for you, but I need to know where you’re jetting off to before I can finish,” she said, sharply. “Switzerland, for starters, I’m assuming.”
McGarvey hadn’t expected this coolness from her. She’d been moody during her pregnancy, but never sharp-tongued like in the old days. But suddenly it connected in his mind. His leaving all of a sudden and possibly going to Switzerland. She had admitted that she’d had an affair with Prince Salman, the man her husband suspected of being a terrorist. And now he was rushing off to Switzerland to be with a woman from the old days who had been in love with him. Rekindling an old flame? He’d even asked himself that same question last night. How far would he go to track down Khalil?
All the way, he’d decided. And Katy had evidently sensed something of that resolution in him. This morning she was jealous.
“I suppose it’s only fair,” Katy said. “Or is it just a part of the business that husbands don’t discuss with their wives?”
The Company shrink, Dr. Norman Stenzel, once told McGarvey that the divorce rate among CIA field officers was the highest of any profession. What spouse could hope to compete with a mate who kept odd hours, had questionable friends, and lied every day as a matter of course. It was hard on everybody, especially the wives who sooner or later developed inferiority complexes; low self-esteem made normally reasonable people sometimes say and do horrific things. The suicide rate among agents and their spouses was nineteen times the national average. Much higher even than among cops. “Don’t do this now, Katy …”
“Your tradecraft was a trifle weak,” Katy said. “Her name is Liese Fuelm. She called you when we were on the cruise, but Otto picked it up and talked to her. Of course, you know all that. The problem is Otto wasn’t quick enough, because the entire conversation was recorded on the machine in your study. It was actually quite sweet, her calling you at home instead of your office. She’s obviously concerned about you.”
McGarvey had listened to Otto’s recording of the brief conversation, and he too had heard the concern in her voice. But like Otto he’d also heard Liese’s anger and frustration. Her people were using her friendship, and possibly even love, for the CIA director to get information they thought they wouldn’t otherwise get because the prince had been a good and useful friend to the last three administrations. But in the aftermath of the kidnapping attempt and then the bin Laden tape, McGarvey had forgotten to check his answering machine.
Katy’s voice was rising. “She said to say hello. Give you a hug. How sweet is that? But she mentioned Darby and the old days.”
McGarvey started up the stairs to her.
“Goodness gracious, I’m beginning to wonder how many people don’t know about Darby and the prince and … me.” She stepped back, as if she wanted to distance herself from her husband. She looked frightened and angry and ashamed all at once.
McGarvey reached the head of the stairs and gathered her in his arms. For just a moment she resisted, but then she melted into him. “It’s not like that, Katy,” he said, stroking her hair. “It never was.”
“She sounded young.”
“She is. And she was in love with me, or thought she was. And she might still be in love with me, which the Swiss police are using to make her come to me for help.”
Katy looked up into his eyes. It was clear that she wanted to believe him, but she was frightened. She was pregnant, and she did not want to be alone again.
“Otto picked up on it, from how she sounded. You must have heard it too.”
“I sent you out of my life once; I won’t allow it to happen again.”
McGarvey wanted to turn his back on everything and simply run away with her. He’d lived for a short while on the Greek island of Serifos; he could easily live there again. He and Katy could have a simple life, happy together, in peace.
“I’m afraid, Kirk. Alaska was nothing compared to this.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how it can turn out for us … for everybody.”
“I’m not going to Switzerland. At least not now.”
“But you are leaving?”
“I’m going to Monaco.”
Katy studied his face. “He’ll be there, and you’re going to confront him. Is that it?” Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “You’re going to find him and kill him. Is that what you’re going to do?” She glanced down the hall toward the front bedroom where their security detail had set up its operational center. “You resigned and they weren’t surprised. And they’re not going away.” She turned back. “How did you find out he’d be in Monaco?”
“The Swiss are investigating him. I talked to Liese this morning. She told me where he’d be.”
Katy flared again. “Two spies exchanging secrets, or was it chums catching up on the good old days?”
There was nothing McGarvey could say.
Katy started to cry. “Well, get your story straight, because your daughter called a half hour ago all upset, wanting to know what the hell was going on. You’ll have to tell her something. She and Todd are coming for dinner again. Unless you’re leaving this afternoon.”
“Not until morning.”
“That’s something, at least.”
“I’m reassigning them to watch you,” McGarvey said. “If I miss the prince, there’s a good chance he’ll come after you again.”
Her mood suddenly swung the other way, and she almost laughed out loud. “There’s not much chance of you missing him, is there? I saw you in action on the boat.” She shook her head. “Oh no, darling, you’ll get him.”
He brushed a kiss on her cheek. “Let me help you pack. I’ll need my tux—”
“I’ll finish it,” Katy said. “Go get yourself a drink, and then gather up whatever else you’re going to need.”
“You won’t be able to reach me, so don’t try,” McGarvey told her. “If something comes up that Liz orTodd can’t handle, go to Otto; he’ll know how to get to me.”
She suddenly looked like a deer caught in some headlights. “You’re getting a second chance, Kirk. And I think this might be the most important thing you’ve ever had to do. So go … do it, and when it’s over come back to me in one piece.”