“Allegedly, McAllister worked with Soviets in Moscow to learn which areas of SDI technology the Russians most needed. It was his job, the Bureau spokesman said, to relay these questions back to the O’Haires. When the information had been gathered here in the U.S., it was transmitted to McAllister who had been stationed with the Central Intelligence Agency at the American Embassy in Moscow.
“The CIA refused to comment this morning, except to say that it was their understanding an arrest was imminent.
“McAllister was recently recalled to Washington for questioning, but disappeared two weeks ago from New York City. It is believed, however, that now he is in the Washington area. In other news.
“It’s not your picture,” Stephanie said.
McAllister had been staring at the television screen. “No,” he said absently.
“It’s your message, though,” she said breathlessly. “But what are they trying to tell you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. His head was spinning. He had expected anything but this. They’d obviously insulated the public from anyinvolvement. There would be no chance passerby spotting him and turning his description over to the police. But what else was going on here? Was it possible they were trying to lull him into a false sense of security? Not likely, he thought. The drawing was so obviously wrong, and had been supplied by someone who obviously should know what he looked like, that there had to be some meaning to it.
“The Russians know your face, and so does the Mafia,” Stephanie was saying. “They’ll see this, and they’ll know that it’s open season on you.” Was that it? Was that the message? Perhaps it wasn’t meant for him. Perhaps it was meant for those trying to stop him. Go ahead and catch McAllister, we won’t interfere. Was that what it meant?
“let’s get out, Mac. Before it’s too late for both of us.” Stephanie looked up at him, her eyes wide.
It was tempting, considering everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks. Yet he wondered if there was anyplace they could run that would be very safe for long. If the CIA or KGB wanted you badly enough, they would find you. Their networks were simply too extensive worldwide for anyone to hide from them. Sooner or later someone would come. For the rest of their lives they would be constantly looking over their shoulders, constantly tensing their muscles waiting for the bullet from a sniper’s rifle.
“I’ve spent my life working for the Company. I can’t give it up now.”
“What has it gotten you?” she cried. “I won’t turn my back on it, Stephanie.”
“Then they’ll kill you,” she said. “You’ll make a mistake. You’ll be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’ll trust someone you shouldn’t. They won’t keep missing. Sooner or later they will succeed.”
“Then you go,” he said gently. What did he feel toward her? His sense of responsibility and obligation clouded his inner thoughts.
“I’m not leaving, David,” she said, using his given name for the first time. “I meant what I said last night. I love you. I won’t abandon you. Let’s get out of here. Far away. Now. Together. Please!”
“I… I can’t,” McAllister said, the words choking in his throat, a heavy feeling in his chest. “I can’t just leave it.”
“You must! You can’t win, not against all of them!”
“I have to try.”
“Why?” she shrieked. “What are you trying to prove?”
“Someone set me up, someone is trying to kill me.” He was seeing Miroshnikov’s face swimming in a mist in front of his eyes. The Russian interrogator was smiling.
We have made great progress together, you and I. I am so very proud of you, Mac, so very pleased.
How could he ever forget the pain and the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the Russians? Of one Russian in particular.
“They’ll keep trying, don’t you see that?” Stephanie cried. “It means I’m on the right track,” he said. Sweat popped out on his forehead.
Stephanie came across the room to him and hesitantly reached up and touched his face, his cheeks, his lips as if she were a blind person trying to learn what he looked like. “I had to try,” she said softly. “For you. For us. But I think I finally understand why you can’t turn your back on everything and run away. I could do it, but not you. It’s the Company. Your father. Your friends. Your obligations.. your wife.” McAllister closed his eyes. He could see Gloria’s face now, contorted into a mask of fury and hate, the gun in her hand. Traitor, she had screamed at him, and she had sincerely meant to kill him. The pain was almost beyond endurance. He had to know why. At least that much.
“I understand, darling, believe me I do,” Stephanie was saying. McAllister opened his eyes and reached for her, drawing her close. “Do you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, her heart beating against his chest. “Whatever you do I’ll stay with you. I won’t desert you, I promise.”
“And afterward?” he asked. “If there is an afterward?” She looked up at him. “That will be up to you,” she said. “But for now we have four names to follow up, four leads from the computer. It’s something.”
“Five,” McAllister said.
A look of confusion crossed her features. She glanced over at the computer printout on the table. “Four…,’ she started.
“There was something I didn’t tell you about last night,” McAllister said.
She looked up into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. She was shivering.
“The O’Haire file was restricted. Entry required a password. I tried zebra, spelled forward and backward, and I tried the word spies. Nothing worked. Finally, in desperation I used the only other word I could think of: Highnote.”
“That was the correct password?” McAllister nodded. “Oh, God.”
“Before I go after the other four, I’ve got to see him again.”
“No, David, I won’t allow that. Anything but that.”
“I must.”
“I can’t stand by and watch you commit suicide,” she said, pulling away. “Don’t you see that? It’s been Highnote all along. It has to be!”
“Then I’ll find that out.”
“No,” she cried.
“Yes. It’s the only way. Everything else would be meaningless. I must know.
Chapter 16
It was only a few minutes after six, yet it was already dark. Traffic on Langley’s Washington Parkway was heavy. The day shift at CIA headquarters had just let out. McAllister watched from where he was parked at the side of the highway three-quarters of a mile south of the Agency.
He was taking an enormous risk by being here like this. Stephanie had wanted to help, but in the end he convinced her that it would be much safer if he approached Highnote on his own. If anything went wrong, she would still be free. She could get to Dexter Kingman with the entire story. It was something at least.
Earlier when he had walked over to the parking ramp where they’d left the Chevrolet Celebrity they’d rented at Dulles in the name of Treffano Miglione, it had struck him that the city was decorated. Colored lights were strung across the streets, noel candles and brightly lit wreaths were hung on lightposts, and many of the store windows held elaborate displays. It was less than two weeks before Christmas. He’d forgotten completely about it, and with the realization came a sudden ache for something he’d never really had as an adult: a family, someone for whom Christmas would mean something.
At first he’d thought about telephoning Highnote, setting up another meeting like the one they’d had at the rest stop off the Interstate north of the city, but he suspected there would be monitors on all incoming calls now. Nor would it be safe to approach his old friend at home again. There was sure to be a surveillance team on duty out there.