“That’s a weak guess, Bob,” Kingman said.
Highnote slammed the palm of his hand on the table top. “We don’t have anything else to go on, goddamnit. I’m trying to save lives, don’t fight me.”
“If he’s after something or someone connected with the O’Haire network, let’s give it to him,” Kingman said.
“Bait?”
“Exactly. If he responds we’ll know for sure what he’s up to.”
“What have you got in mind? Any ideas?”
“We’ll get a message to him.”
“How?”
“There is only one way to make sure that we get his attention,” Kingman said. “We let it leak to the press that we’re on the verge of arresting the O’Haires’ control officer. We’ll even go so far as to name him as a former Agency officer: David McAllister.”
“You’re nuts,” Foster said. “Every cop in the country would be gunning for”
Kingman shook his head. “We give a bogus description. Something not even close. Different age, height, hair. McAllister will know that we’re trying to reach him, and why.”
“So will the Russians.”
“And they’ll go gunning for him, because they know what he really looks like. In the meantime we’ll be watching them. Sooner or later they’ll lead us to”
“If they get to him first they’ll kill him,” Foster said. “It’s the chance we all agreed to take when we raised our right hands, Dennis.”
“You must have taken a different oath than I took,” Foster said.
“I for one want no further part of these proceedings, and I suggest that this entire case be turned over to the Bureau. It’s in their baIliwick. let them handle it.”
The telephone at the head of the table burred softly. Everyone stopped as Highnote picked it up. They’d all heard him instruct his secretary that there were to be no interruptions of this meeting, except in an emergency. “I see,” Highnote said softly, the expression on his face impossible to read. Foster had gotten to his feet and was halfway to the door. Even he hesitated.
“This morning?” Highnote asked. “Yes, I see, thank you.” He hung up. For a long time he sat stock-still, staring at the telephone.
“What is it, Bob?” Kingman asked, the first to break the suddenly ominous silence.
Highnote looked up. “It was Janos Sikorski,” he said. “He was found tortured to death at his home outside of Reston this morning.”
“Good lord,” Foster said.
“Any witnesses?” Kingman asked, his eyes bright. Highnote shook his head. “It’s not all straightened out yet, but the killers evidently came in two cars. They left one behind. There was a lot of blood… “Any idea who the car belongs to?”
“It was a rental unit. Out of Baltimore.”
“A name?”
“Stephanie Albright.”
“Oh, Christ,” Kingman said. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”
Chapter 15
Live a hundred years, learn a hundred years, still you die a fool. Better to turn back than lose your way. A bad compromise is better than a good battle. The proverbs were a Russian litany; the response, survival. The man in the charcoal-gray overcoat and dove-gray fedora crushed out his cigarette in the Mercedes’s ashtray and attempted to settle back in his seat and relax. But he was tense. So much had gone wrong that it was becoming increasingly difficult to see how the situation could possibly turn out for the best.
He looked up as a car came around the corner and slowly passed him, his heart quickening until he realized it was not for him.
So much history here, he thought, far and near. Since coming to Washington he had steeped himself in the city’s heritage. So goes Washington, so goes the nation. The irony of meeting in the parking ramp of the Watergate Hotel was not lost on him. A president had been toppled by events that had happened here. An entire government had very nearly fallen. Was it possible again? He shuddered to think of it.
McAllister was still alive, and now he had help. They had learned nothing from Sikorski, and what’s more his carefully nurtured contacts among the underworld in New Jersey were threatening to pull out unless their fee was substantially increased.
“We’re talking about my country here,” the heavily accented Italian voice had screamed at him over the telephone. “It’s gonna cost you, and cost you plenty.”
Coming up with the extra money, though not impossible would be difficult. “I have accountability too,” he’d said.
“Breaks of the game. But the price of poker has just gone up, gumba. Twenty-four hours.”
McAllister was the key. He had been released from the Lubyanka
by whom? Someone had to have signed the release order. Someonehigh up within the Komitet. But who? And why? It simply made no sense from where he sat.
The door at the far side of the ramp opened and the Russian turned his head in time to see his American counterpart emerge from the stairwell. He watched how the man walked, holding himself close as if he were in pain, as well indeed he might be considering the circumstances. Stem the tide. They had to not only stop McAllister, but they had to learn who was directing him and why.
The American reached the Mercedes and got in on the passenger side. He was visibly distressed, his complexion pale, his hand shaking as he lit a cigarette. “It’s time we thought about pulling out, unless you can tell me what the hell is going on here,” the nature of his words stronger than the tone of his voice.
“What are you talking about?”
“McAllister is getting help.”
“Yes, this woman.
“No, I’m talking about outside help. Somebody is feeding him information. They must be, he can’t be that good.”
The Russian studied the American for a long moment or two. How much did he know that he wasn’t telling? How many secrets had they kept from each other over the years? There was so much at stake here. They could not pull out, of course. Besides, there was nowhere on this earth for them to run and be safe. Nowhere. “Then it is up to us to stop him before he goes too far.” The American shook his head. “You don’t understand, Gennadi, how far he has taken it already.”
“Then you will tell me, and together we will see what must be done.” The Russian forced a calmness into his voice that he did not feel. He had worked with this one for enough years to understand that when he was upset it was for good cause.
“Someone must be feeding him information.”
“From where?”
“Moscow.”
“How? Where is his pipeline? Who does he see? Where do they meet?” With care, he thought.
“You’re in a better position to find that out than I.”
“There has been nothing, trust me when I tell you this,” the Russian said. “I have made… inquiries. If McAllister is getting information it is coming from somewhere here in Washington, or very nearby. And by the way, that was an inspired guess on your part that he would actually break into CIA headquarters.”
“He was after the O’Haire files.”
“Did he get them?”
“I don’t know. But we’re going to have to assume that he did. And you know what that could mean.”
“They’ve received their instructions. I think we can assume that they are safely out of harm’s way for the moment.”
“He broke into headquarters, for God’s sake, Gennadi,” the American shouted. “Do you think Marion is going to be any more difficult for him?” The Russian shook his head. “I asked you once if McAllister was a god, and you told me he was not. He was just an ordinary man with extraordinary abilities. What has changed your mind?”