“No, I don’t want to bother him. He’s got his hands full with the VI and Vail investigations, and I just need someone who understands alarm systems.
But I don’t want just anyone. I need someone I can trust.” “Yes, sir,” Johnson replied cautiously. “What can I do for you?”
“Something’s not right with the system here. Could be that someone’s tampered with it. I just don’t know. Can you come out here tonight.
Say around eight to take a look?” “I could come right now.” “No, later. I don’t want to make a production out of this, in case someone has sabotaged the system. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir. Perfectly.
I’ll be there at eight.” “Good man. See you then.” “Let your security people know that I’m coming.” “Oh, don’t worry about them.
That’s why I want the alarm system checked.” Next he called Fred Rudolph at his office in FBI headquarters. “I need a favor, no questions asked.” “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rudolph said. He was straitlaced. He did everything by the book. Or at least he tried to do it that way. He and McGarvey were opposites, but they respected each other. “What can I do for you, Mac?” “Put me on your medium security website,” McGarvey told him. “I want it to look as if someone released a confidential memo by mistake.” “What memo?” “You’re concerned that the DCI is out here with little or no security because he’s pigheaded. The Bureau needs some direction.” “Who am I supposedly sending this memo to?” “Senator Hammond. But you’re not really going to send it. It’s a draft memo. But I want it on the website.” “So the Russians can see it,” Rudolph said. “If it’s them, they’ll come out guns blazing. Shootout at the OK Corral. That’s your style.”
“Post it a few minutes after six tonight. It’ll look like a shift change error.” “Tell me that you’re not really sending your security away,” Rudolph said. “No questions, Fred, remember?” “All right. I can do that for you. Against my better judgment. But in the meantime, I’m going to double the surveillance on the Russians, and on Senator Hammond’s office because there’s a good chance he’ll see it, too.”
“Your call. But if someone heads out this way I don’t want your people to interfere with them.” “Can we at least give you a heads-up?” “I’d appreciate it.” Rudolph was silent for a moment. “Do you think it’ll go down tonight?” “I hope so.” “Did your people find Nikolayev?”
“He’s here in Washington.” “Okay then, good luck,” Rudolph said.
“Just watch your ass, will you?” “Sure thing,” McGarvey promised. He went down the hall through the garden room so that he could look out a back window. Katy and Liz had built five small snowmen and were working on a sixth. The figures’ heads were larger than their bodies, and they seemed to be leaning backward, looking up at the sky. They all faced the same direction, toward the east, McGarvey realized, and the scene was somehow disturbing. Gloria Sanchez and one of the outside security people stood by watching. McGarvey returned to the study, where he telephoned Adkins’s house. A young woman answered.
Her voice was soft. Barely a whisper. “Hello.” “This is Kirk McGarvey. I’d like to speak with Dick Adkins.” “Yes,” she said. Her voice was innectionless, like a zombie’s. “Father,” she called away from the phone. “It’s Mr. McGarvey.” Adkins came on almost immediately. “Hi, Mac.” He had already talked to Whittaker twice about coming back to work. McGarvey could only imagine what was going on at his house with his daughters.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t call sooner,” McGarvey said. “I couldn’t believe the news when David told me. I’m really sorry, Dick.”
“She hid it the whole time. She was driving up to a cancer clinic in Baltimore for the past year. Sometimes the girls took her. I never knew.”
McGarvey didn’t know what to say that was appropriate. Katy would know, but he hadn’t told her. “Ruth was a strong woman.”
“That she was.”
“Will there be a memorial service?”
“On Saturday at Grace Lutheran. But of course we don’t expect you or Kathleen to be there, under the circumstances.”
“We’ll be there, Dick. This other business will be settled by then.”
“Oh?”
“I hate to ask this, but can you come out here tonight?”
“Cropley? Sure. What time?”
“Eight,” McGarvey said. Adkins had practically jumped at the invitation. Whatever was going on at the house could not be pleasant for him.
“Let security know I’m coming.”
“That won’t be a problem. Just drive up to the house. I’ll see you then.”
Adkins wanted to say something else. McGarvey could hear it in his hesitation. “Okay,” he said at last. “See you then.”
When McGarvey came into the dining room Grassinger was looking out the bow windows toward the horse barn and riding arena. His hands were clasped behind his back and he rocked on his heels as if he was thinking about something in time with a beat. He was alone. “I’ve been asking myself what does it mean by ‘forcing the issue.” I can think of a dozen different possibilities, not one of them with a shred of common sense to it. And needing my cooperation, my ‘full cooperation,” is something even more worrisome to me. I’m saying to myself that since we can’t go back to business as usual until the operator or operators are bagged we need to do something really creative to get the job done. Offer them bait. I think that’s what the director is suggesting. The bait being himself, of course. Now, that’s not acceptable, not within my charter. So what to do? Maybe reason and logic?” “They have all the time in the world, Jim,”
McGarvey said. “But that’s a luxury we don’t have. As long as I stay in the bunker they’ll bide their time.” Grassinger turned around. He wasn’t a happy man. “So we just open the doors to the keep for them, Mr. Director? Is that what you’re asking me to do?” “Something like that.” “Then they’ll waltz in here and kill you and your family. They will have won.” McGarvey smiled faintly. “It might not be all that easy for them.” “No offense intended, sir,” Grassinger apologized.
“None taken. I’m not suggesting that we lower our guards and turn our backs. But it has to look that way, and it has to be convincing.”
Grassinger was somewhat mollified. He nodded. “Well, sir, what do you have in mind?” “Who’s with Nikolayev at Andrews?” “I sent young Chris Bartholomew. She knows what she’s doing.” “I want him brought out here tonight around seven. Find a place along the highway so that he can see someone coming from the city. He’ll have to be hidden, but near enough so that he can identify whoever is in the car coming down the driveway.” Grassinger nodded. “I know a couple of spots that might work. Is Chris to stay with him?” “No, I want you there. You might have to move your people in a big hurry.” “Who are you expecting, sir?” Grassinger asked. He had a sour look on his broad face, as if he knew that he was going to hear something disagreeable.
“Dick Adkins, Otto Rencke, my son-in-law and Bob Johnson from Technical Services.” “I know them all.” “They’ll be the ones coming in the open, but there might be someone else in the first batch who won’t want to be seen.” “Russians, maybe? That’s why we have our own Russian watchdog?” “That, but there’s more,” McGarvey said. This wasn’t easy.