But she promised that she would call you.” “Not yet, but she will,”
Kathleen said brightly. Her dark mood of last night and this morning seemed to have dissipated. They kissed, and he sat down at the counter as she stirred a pot on the stove. “Smells good whatever it is.”
“Spaghetti. Is that okay?” “More than okay, I’m starved.” She gave him a smile. “What’ll it be, a double or a triple?” “How about a beer?” She laughed as she got him his beer. “Tom Hammond must be slipping.” “Did you watch any of it?”
She shook her head. “Between that arrogant prick, and that tight-assed Madden broad I didn’t dare. I might have been tempted to storm down there and rip out their tongues.” McGarvey was shocked. He’d never heard his wife talk like that. “Close your mouth, dear,” she said sweetly. “There are times when only a certain kind of language seems appropriate.” “It’s a good thing that you didn’t watch.” “That bad?”
He nodded. “Yeah. But from their standpoint they’re right.” “Oh, for goodness sake, think about what you’re saying.” “When we get into the closed sessions there’ll be a lot of… incidents out of my past laid on the table.” He looked inward for the flash of an instant. The image that remained in his mind’s eye, like a sunspot on his retina, was of a hell in which dozens of people were falling back in slow motion; blood splashing in every direction; rivers of blood; people screaming in terror, their hands out in supplication. He flinched.
Kathleen poured a glass of wine. She put it down and came around the counter to him, a look of deep concern on her face. “What’s the matter, Kirk?” For a moment longer McGarvey couldn’t speak. He shook his head and looked up into her eyes. “I’ve done the right things, haven’t I?” She took him in her arms. “Not always, my darling. None of us ever do, didn’t you know that?” She looked down at him and offered a small reassuring smile. “But on balance you’ve always been headed in the right direction. That’s a lot more than most people can say.” “They were bad.” “Yes, they were. And if you didn’t have a conscience, if you didn’t feel remorse almost all the time, you would be no different than they were. Nothing more than mindless, immoral thugs.”
WEDNESDAY
ELEVEN
MAYBE IT WAS HIS PAST CATCHING UP WITH HIM.
McGarvey arrived at the Hart Senate Office Building a few minutes before 10:00 A.M. wearing a dark blue suit with side vents, a pale blue shirt and plain matching tie. Kathleen had laid out the clothes for him, as she did most mornings. If Hammond and the others were going to shoot him down, at least he’d crash in style. Two dozen newspaper and television reporters were waiting in front of the Capitol as McGarveys limousine pulled up. Yemm headed a phalanx of four bodyguards, who escorted McGarvey and Paterson across the sidewalk and up the broad marble stairs, keeping the media at arm’s length. The extra muscle was the Office of Security’s idea, and though McGarvey initially objected Paterson convinced him to go along with it. “Hell, if nothing else a little extra show of force right now might put a burr under Hammond’s saddle.”
McGarvey had to smile. He was being manipulated. But it was for his own good, though it was still another thing he was having trouble getting used to. “Well then, I guess it’s the least we can do.”
McGarvey’s name had never been exactly a household word, but after yesterday’s televised hearing and the front-page stories in the Washington Post and New Tork Times, in which he was characterized as having drawn the battle line in the sand, he was becoming fair game for the crazies. Before they left Langley Yemm insisted that McGarvey wear body armor under his shirt. “You’re a tempting target now, boss,” Yemm said, trying to keep it light. But he was deadly serious. “If they know what they’re doing, they’ll go for a head shot “Nothing we can do about that, but even guys like Begin would have come out alive if they’d been wearing.” The vest was light, and not noticeable, but it was hot. McGarvey figured that it was going to be a bitch of a day on more than one account. But at least the process had begun. There would be no more waiting for the other shoe to fall, no more wondering if he should take the job or even if he was going to be confirmed.
Like yesterday the hearing chamber was packed. Capitol security officers at the tall double doors were turning people away. As McGarvey and Paterson worked their way to the witness table, McGarvey scanned the crowd for any sign of Dmitri Runkov, the SVR rezident. But he didn’t spot the Russian, who would have been sitting with the other foreign service officers. “Can we get a list of who was here yesterday and today?” McGarvey asked Paterson as they took their seats. “Sure,”
Paterson said. “Do you have a reason?” “I’ll tell you about it later.” Almost immediately the clerk of the hearings came in and announced the committee members. Opening the sessions this way was Hammond’s idea. He’d been a circuit court judge in St. Paul before being elected to the Senate. He thought that the clerk added dignity to the proceedings. The senators filed in, and when they’d taken their places and the audience was settled, Hammond reminded McGarvey that he was still under oath. “I had hoped to be further along then we are,”
Senator Hammond said. “But it seems as if there is even more material to cover than I first supposed.” He gave Paterson a stern look. “I would hope that we can keep today’s session on a more businesslike basis in the interest of saving time.” “If that is your hope, Senator, it’s our hope as well,” Paterson said with a straight face. “Mr.
McGarvey has a very full schedule at Langley, as you can well imagine.”
“Mr. McGarvey is not the Agency’s director yet,” Brenda Madden interjected. “He is working as interim director, Madam Senator,”
Paterson said. “And has been for some time now.” “Surely the intelligence professionals at the CIA are used to the comings and goings of political appointees and are capable of doing their jobs unsupervised by a titular director for the time being.” “On the contrary, Senator Madden, as you well know, Mr. McGarvey is a twenty-five-year veteran with the Central Intelligence Agency. He has earned the respect and loyalty of everyone out there.” “Including you, sir?” she gibed. It was well-known that Paterson had only reluctantly left his New York law practice to help straighen out the sometimes sticky legal positions that the CIA found itself in. Because it was a challenge, and because the previous president had asked him to do it, he had agreed. He had no love for the world of the spy, like his predecessor Howard Ryan had, but he was doing a good job. “Yes, including me,” he said. Madden’s expression darkened. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted. Hammond glanced over and gave her a questioning look. She shrugged and sat back. Hammond turned to the first of the fat files piled in front of him. “I think we can dispense with the usual examination of Mr. McGarvey’s personal data. Let it be noted in the record that Kirk Cullough McGarvey was born October 9, 1950 in Garden City, Kansas. Parents were Herbert Cullough and Claire Elizabeth, both deceased. Attended Garden City elementary, middle and high schools, graduating cum laude in 1966. He attended Kansas State University, graduating in 1970, also cum laude. Two bachelors of science, one in mathematics the other in political science.” Hammond looked up. “That is an unusual combination.” “Is that a question, Senator?” McGarvey asked. Kathleen said to push back, and he was already starting to feel irascible. His desk was piled with work.