Fox’s grip on the knife relaxed a bit as he smiled at Diamond and stroked his cheek.
“Why would you say something like that to me, Dick? You know how I feel about you. We’re a team. I was just going to say that, actually, Ronnie Wood is going to be okay. He’s on board.”
“A team,” Diamond reiterated, as he relaxed his grip on the pistol.
“We have much work to do in testing our theories. We’re talking changing history in a forever kind of way,” Fox said, his words dueling with his instinct to kill Diamond. He had suspected for several weeks now that Diamond was Ronnie Wood, but still lacked hard evidence.
“The Brothers of Babylon. The future. Eternal fame, like Churchill,” Diamond said.
“Our theory about attacks on the homeland demonstrated outcomes that would have been otherwise impossible to imagine. Who would have guessed that the American people would have con-tributed a billion and a half dollars to charities? That patriotism would have surged so much? That country music would be the clear winner?”
They shared a good chuckle about the country music. Fox lifted the stereo remote and increased the volume on the Bach.
“Yes, country music,” Diamond said.
Fox continued, “And who would have thought that our movement would become so powerful. We can just point the way, and they follow, like sheep.” Fox eyed Diamond as he prepared his response.
“Yes, like sheep,” Diamond said dreamily as he licked his lips.
“We have navigated the most challenging possible tests. For so many years, from our university and think-tank offices, we could only dream about eternal fame. Jeffrey Sachs got all the credit for bringing capitalism to Russia and Poland after the Cold War. Now, we will be famous for what we will do in the Middle East.”
“Famous,” Diamond said.
Chapter 104
It had been all Matt could do to heal and survive. Being pulled off the hospital ship Mercy that was by now situated somewhere in the Persian Gulf, in order to play the wheelchair-bound role as Father Sierra, was challenging.
He had heard about the big battle at Fort Magsaysay, and General Zater had flown to the Mercy to give him the news about Zachary’s death on the battlefield. Somehow, he had been able to push adrenaline through his body sufficiently to subdue the pain for one last mission. X-Ray, his protégé, had told him that there were no others who could speak Japanese as well as he or play the role required. It wasn’t so much an order as it was a request, his friend had said.
There was never any doubt that he would perform the mission, Matt knew. But the only way to do it was in tandem with Macrini as Father Xavier and Matt playing the feeble priest. Besides, the fact that there were two of them presented the Japanese commanders a new variable, and they had been able to parlay the confusion to good effect for the country. And while the doctors had all said no, all Matt had to do was think of Zach, and he said, “Yes — make it work.”
A full week after Zachary’s funeral and a complete debriefing from Meredith on the Rolling Stones, Matt thought he had pieced it together.
Stone and his cronies were fanning the flames of insurgency in an awkward move to derail the building momentum to fight in Iraq. Create a war to stop a war? He thought about Iran-Contra and wondered what this would be called: China-Abu Sayyaf?
But when young men and women were putting their lives on the line, Matt believed, the proffer of academic theorems by amateur political appointees about simplifying warfare were best rejected and left in the rough drafts of the professors’ dissertations and class notes. Where and why you went to war mattered, Matt thought. Intelligence is central to the whole discussion. And we damn sure didn’t need to manufacture a war in the Philippines. That thought had dropped another tumbler into place on figuring out the true identity of Ronnie Wood.
Every time I’m close, I’m moved.
Matt walked through the E-ring of the Pentagon and passed a man who looked the other way as they approached one another. Matt immediately recog-nized him as a journalist for the Washington Post. The book on him was that he was shady at best; dishonest, even up for grabs, at worst. Matt strode confidently past the man and now the final tumbler of the lock fell into place in his mind. He had solved the mystery.
Energized, he stopped in front of Latisha’s desk directly outside of Secretary Stone’s office.
“You’re up next, Mr. Garrett.” Latisha smiled.
“Thank you.”
Matt was dressed in his usual garb: olive cargo pants, basic tan button-down cotton shirt, and dark windbreaker. His arm was out of the sling, and he could walk with minimal pain.
“Matt, come in,” Stone said.
Matt followed Stone into his office and sat on a blue leather sofa. In front of him was a small coffee table with an assortment of magazines and newspapers that were current but unread.
“How can I help you?”
Matt tossed the manila folder on the table. “Read it. Then we’ll talk.”
He watched Stone pick up the file and skim through the pages. Matt had to hand it to Stone; the man’s expression never changed. But he guessed that anyone who could pull off the kind of charade that Stone had must have the deadened sense of morality that allowed him to appear unfazed by shocking information. Stone closed the folder and placed it back on the table.
“Okay,” Stone said.
“All of this was some game?” Matt asked.
“Everything had its purposes, yes,” Stone said.
“Do the people who die matter?”
“Everyone dies eventually, Matt,” Stone said.
Matt stiffened at Stone’s insensitive comment and said, “Your compassion is overwhelming.”
“You’re not here to discuss my compassion. I agreed to see you based upon what you’ve been through. What we put you through. You know about everything now, and I would ask that you keep confidential your knowledge of Ronnie Wood.”
“But why?” Matt asked. He leaned back into the sofa, curious.
“I’ll appeal to your sense of patriotism. This is a great country, and we need to avoid further embar-rassment.”
“I could argue that exposing Mr. Wood would help us greatly in that regard.”
“Perhaps, but the short-term pain might be debilitating. We’re in a very vulnerable place right now.”
“He’s just another bureaucrat, but I’ll think about it,” Matt offered.
“Speaking of vulnerabilities, have you heard about the tragic deaths of my deputy Saul Fox and Dick Diamond?”
“Not even sure I know who they are,” Matt said, staring directly into Stone’s liquid eyes.
Stone seemed to consider his comment and nodded.
“Yes. You’re CIA, and a field agent at that. There would be no reason for you to know them.”
“No reason,” Matt replied. “But there is this.”
He pulled a small tape recorder out of his windbreaker pocket and placed it on the table as he punched the play button:
“This was all so very exciting. So close to Arma-geddon in Los Angeles …”
Matt let the recording play where the two lovers disclosed all the bits of the conspiracy to include Stone’s participation, albeit coerced.