“Nothing can ever come of it,” McGarvey said, gently.
“I know.”
“Khalil is here and he’s kidnapped my wife, and what I want you to do for me might help to save her life, and possibly stop the terrorists before they hit us.”
“My God, I’m sorry,” Liese said, and she was sincere. She wanted Kirk, but not that way. Not at the expense of his wife’s life. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
There was a short silence. “Will your badge get you into Prince Salman’s compound sometime today?”
Liese was startled. “Of course. There’s a house staff over there, including bodyguards, but they wouldn’t turn away a Swiss Federal cop. Getting in would be easy, but the instant I approach the gate my surveillance crew will pick up on it and inform Gertner.”
This time when he spoke, McGarvey sounded cautious. “Are you able to monitor conversations inside the house?”
“Yes. At least in most of the apartments,” Liese said. She could hear LeFevre rattling around in the kitchen. “Whatever I say or do once I’m in will be recorded here.”
“Good. Then there’ll be no mistakes. No one will rush in with guns blazing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I want you to get inside the compound, and hold Salman’s wife at gunpoint.”
A jolt of electricity shot through Liese’s body. “She’s not involved in any of this. I’m not going to hurt an innocent woman.”
“Listen to me, Liese. I don’t want anybody hurt. If something doesn’t go right, then get the hell out of there. Or put your pistol on the floor and raise your hands. Your people will bail you out. No matter what happens, there’ll be no shooting.”
All at once Liese understood what Kirk was trying to do. By taking Salman’s wife hostage, a possible trade could be made for Kathleen McGarvey. That was crystal clear, and it might work if nothing went wrong here. But what was also perfectly clear in Liese’s mind was just how deeply Kirk loved his wife. There was no hope after all. Liese closed her eyes again to squeeze away the tears. “When do you want me to do it?” she asked.
“Within the next few hours,” McGarvey said. “Call me when you’re in.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’m going after Khalil.”
“Kirk—”
“Yes?”
“Be careful,” she whispered. My darling.
McGarvey’s voice softened. “You too.”
“Oh, wow,” Rencke said, hopping back and forth. “Do you think she’ll pull it off? Do it, ya know?”
McGarvey was looking at his daughter, who had an odd, hurt expression on her face. “I think so.”
“If somebody gets hurt, especially the man’s wife or his kids, we’re going to be the bad guys.”
He didn’t know how he could live with himself if something did happen. But he didn’t know anything else that would get to a man such as Khalil, except by threatening his family. It was a universal language, the one point of commonality between the terrorists and us. Except that the terrorists were perfectly willing to target innocent women and children, while up until now the Americans were not.
“Were you in love with her?” Elizabeth asked. She was obviously having trouble saying the words.
McGarvey understood his daughter’s fear. He had left her once, and she didn’t want to lose him again. He shook his head. “No, I was never in love with any woman except your mother. Then or now,” he added.
Elizabeth took several seconds to digest her father’s answer. “Okay, Daddy, what do you want us to do?”
“Three things. First, I want a major surveillance operation on the Saudi Embassy started as soon as possible. Vans, cars, foot patrols, choppers, the whole works. I want to saturate the entire area one block out from the building, and I want them to know that we’re doing it.”
Rencke’s eyes narrowed. “The Bureau will want to know what’s going on, and the Saudis will start screaming bloody murder the moment they spot us,” he warned. “Won’t take long till someone over at the White House orders us to pull the pin.”
“Communications will be very bad this afternoon and tonight,” McGarvey said. “I’ll need just a few more hours, no longer. And as for the Saudis, I want them to start making noises as soon as possible. Maybe even create an incident. Maybe DC Metro would have to be called in, especially if there’s trouble on the streets outside Saudi territory.”
“I’ll call Todd; he can bring some people out from the Farm,” Elizabeth said. “What next?”
“I want you and Otto to find a way to get into the place. Maybe there’s a storm-sewer tunnel under the building, something that opens inside the compound. Maybe a cable and heating conduit. When you get it figured out, I want you to fax the information to me here at the house.”
Rencke caught on to McGarvey’s plan; it was plain by his expression, but Elizabeth was confused.
“We’ll have to sweep the phones first,” she said. “Make sure they’re secure. Hasn’t been done since before you left for Alaska.”
“Oh, boy, let’s hope that they’re dirty,” Rencke said. He was excited. “And even if there isn’t a way to get inside, I’ll make one up and fax the plans here.” He grinned. “Soon as you give me word, we’ll cut all the utilities to the building. Electricity, water, phones, and cable.”
Elizabeth objected. “They’ll lock that place up tighter than a drum,” she said. “They’ll know they’re under attack, and they’ll shoot at anything that moves.”
“That’s right,” Rencke said. He suddenly stopped hopping. “Mrs. M isn’t there, and neither will your father be.”
“But the Comcast van was spotted going into the embassy compound.”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” McGarvey told his daughter. “Exactly what Khalil wanted us to see. It’s why his people didn’t take you with them. They wanted you to yell bloody murder so that someone would look for the van. But it took time to organize the search. No one picked up the van until it showed up at the Saudi Embassy. Nobody actually followed it from Georgetown. It could have gone someplace else first, dropped your mother off, and then headed over to the embassy.”
Elizabeth saw it all at once. “She could be almost anywhere in the city.” Suddenly her eyes lit up. “Darby Yarnell’s old house. My God, they doubled back after I’d left.”
McGarvey nodded. He was seeing Khalil’s hands on Katy. He could see the man’s gun pointed at her head, and his jaw tightened.
“They don’t have diplomatic immunity over there,” Elizabeth said. “We can get a search warrant and let the Bureau handle it—”
“They might kill her first,” Rencke suggested, softly.
“No search warrant,” McGarvey said, and he shivered inside at the depth of his anger and resolve to take the fight to Khalil on the man’s own terms. “I’m going in. No one else. Just me.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
As Berndt headed for the Oval Office, the West Wing was a beehive of activity, even more than it usually was on a weekday morning. Rencke’s telephone call coming so close on the heels of his earlier visit was frightening. He clutched the CIA file close to his chest, as if he expected someone to grab the explosive material from him.
Kathleen McGarvey had been kidnapped and was being held hostage. By the Saudis.
At first Berndt had not wanted to believe Rencke. The implications were too stunning for him to take the story seriously. But the more he thought about it, the more it made a kind of twisted sense. McGarvey was the only man in town who believed Kahlil and Prince Salman were the same man. They had kidnapped McGarvey’s wife in an attempt to make him stop his pursuit.