“You got it,” the cabbie said, and pulled away from the curb. “Some weather, huh?”
“Right,” McAllister said absently, his eyes riveted on the front page of the newspaper.
The photographs looked like standard Agency head shots out of their files, Stephanie’s more recent than his, but both of them very recognizable except for the fact that his hair was much shorter now, and he still wore the clear-lensed glasses Stephanie had bought for him. He quickly scanned the lengthy article with a growing disbelief. Innes and Reisberg had been killed outright. Quarmby was in critical condition at Bethseda Naval Hospital where he was not expected to live, and Highnote was in guarded condition, but was expected to recover.
Highnote was not Zebra One. He was not a part of the network after all.
Look to Washington. Look to Moscow.
The penetration agent was not Highnote. Whoever he was, the mole was still in place. Highnote had tried to help and he had nearly lost his life for his effort. Carrick and Maas had been killed in New York, then Sikorski in Reston, Ballinger in Washington, and Stephanie’s father here in Baltimore. Now Innes, Reisberg, and probably Quamnby. It was nearly beyond belief. The story had been released just a few hours ago by a spokesman for the FBI, who reported that the meeting had been called at the home of Paul Innes, associate deputy attorney general, because of the overnight slaying of James and Liam O’Haire at the federal penitentiary outside of Marion, Illinois. “See related story on page 2A.“McAllister turned the page. The O’Haires had been found very early this morning stabbed to death. There were no clues as to the identity of the murderers, but prison officials said they believed that there had been trouble between the two brothers and some of the other prisoners.
Back on page one, McAllister continued with the main article. “Neighbors of the McAllisters, in their posh Georgetown neighborhood, reported seeing McAllister and a woman matching the description of Stephanie Albright, leaving in a white Peugeot sedan registered to McAllister. Tire tracks at the scene of the multiple slayings matched those of the Peugeot.
“In addition to the four government officials, also killed were two FBI officers, as well as Caroline Innes, wife of the associate deputy attorney general.”
McAllister, the article went on, had been named in connection with four other recent murders; two in New York, one in Washington, and the fourth near Reston.
According to an “unnamed source within the CIA,” McAllister, who had recently returned from assignment in Moscow, had worked with the Russians as a source for the O’Haire’s spy network. It was believed that McAllister and Stephanie Albright were still at large in the Washington area, and were to be considered armed and extremely dangerous.
McAllister let the paper drop to his lap. There was no going back for either of them now. Whatever faint hope he had held for using Stephanie as a backup should he fail-having her approach Dexter Kingman with the entire story-was completely shattered now. According to the article, two weapons had been used in the massacre. The implication was that both McAllister and the woman had participated in the killings.
Stephanie, he thought, what in God’s name have I done to you?
The lobby of their hotel was mostly deserted, and no one paid the slightest attention to McAllister as he crossed to the elevator. He could not hide this from her, of course, but he had no idea how she was going to take the news that she was wanted for murder. If she folded on him it would make things impossible. Coming so soonon the heels of the shock of seeing her father’s mutilated body, however, he was worried about her.
Stephanie opened the door for him, her eyes going from his face to the overnight bags he was carrying, and then to the newspaper folded under his arm.
“You’ve seen it, then,” she said. She was pale and obviously frightened.
“Was it on the television?” he asked coming in and putting down the bags. But then he spotted the newspaper spread out on the bed and he turned on her. “Christ, I told you to stay in the room. I told you not to leave the hotel under any circumstances.”
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “But it was something I had to do.”
“What was so important?” he asked, raising his voice. “My father,” she replied, turning away. Her breathing was erratic, and she was holding her hands together to stop them from shaking.
“What about him?” McAllister snapped, realizing the moment the words escaped his lips how callous and insensitive he must sound to her. “Listen, Stephanie, I’m sorry…
“Don’t be, you were right. I shouldn’t have left the hotel. But I didn’t know about this.” She turned to face McAllister. “I couldn’t just leave him like that, David. I don’t know if you can understand, but he was alone, and when someone shows up at the house, I didn’t want them to see him like… that.”
McAllister fought to control his sudden fear. An Did you call someone?” She shook her head. “I was going to, but then I saw the paper. “What did you do?”
She told him in a halting voice, and his heart broke for her. But there was simply nothing he could do to make it any easier.
“I understand,” he said when she was finished. “I really do.” She looked at him, searching his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t patronizing her. He managed a slight wan smile and she came across the room to him. He took her in his arms and held her close, her entire body shaking.
“Where does it end, David?” she asked softly. “There were witnesses who say they saw us.”
“Either they were lying, or they were mistaken. Whoever did thekillings may have dressed up to look like us. They went to my house, took my car and went out to College Park.”
She looked up at him. “Highnote isn’t a part of it, then,” she said, her eyes wide and moist.
“No,” McAllister said.
“They’ll try again to kill him, won’t they?”
“Probably. But I’m sure he’s being closely guarded now. It won’t be so easy for them the next time. But now we’ve got an ally. Someone to trust.”
“If he recovers.”
“Yes,” McAllister said, his mind drawn for just a moment back to the years and years he and Highnote had been friends. To the good times and the bad. They’d accomplished so much together, had confided so often in each other; Highnote the mentor, Mac his brightest pupil. It hurt that he had ever doubted his friend.
“I’m sorry,” Stephanie said. “I was wrong about him from the beginning.”
“You were going on what you knew. On the apparent facts,” he said, trying to think it out.
“Did you know any of those people?”
McAllister focused on her. “Just Quarmby over at NSA. He was a good man.”
“I knew Alvan Reisberg from the old days. The question is, David, what were those four doing meeting together?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Think about it. The O’Haires were killed last night, and this morning those particular four men held a meeting. Whatever it was they were talking about had to involve us. And it had to be important enough for Zebra One to want to stop them and blame their deaths onus.”
“Now there’s an all-out manhunt for us.”
“But why kill Innes and the others unless Highnote was there to convince them that we were innocent?”
Suddenly McAllister did see it. “You’re right. Christ, it was staring me right in the face. Whoever arranged the killings has just proved Highnote wrong.”
“It’s another message.”
“It’s more than that,” McAllister said, suddenly seeing everything. “There is a common thread. Zebra One is someone highly enough placed so that he knows not only Highnote’s movements, but he also knew about Innes at the Justice Department, Reisberg at the FBI, and Quarmby at NSA.”