“They’re located down there, aren’t they?”
“Maybe you’re more on the ball than I thought. But the only thing the Bureau dug up locally was the name of a Mexican takeout where Mansur was stuffing burritos for a while. Taco Rojo.”
“The Red Taco?”
“All I got. It’s all the Bureau had, too, if that’s any comfort, and he no longer works there.”
“Why would they ever put him out in public like that?”
“No idea. Unless he was being used as some kind of bait. Which could also explain why the Bureau would back off — to keep from fucking up somebody else’s mousetrap.”
“Then who’s the mouse?”
“Good question. But it tells me that Mansur is findable for anyone with the means, motive, and opportunity.”
They continued walking in silence until they reached the edge of the property. Bickell stopped, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and looked straight at Cole.
“If you do happen to find him, don’t waste your breath asking about Wade Castle. He was using a cryptonym over there. Hector. Like the Greek warrior.”
“The dead Greek warrior. I saw the movie.”
“And Castle read the book. But I guess he doesn’t believe in jinxes. Another word of advice. The moment you hit the trail I’m supposed to give the Agency a heads-up. They want a fix on your departure time, a starting point for further tracking. I can fudge it by maybe twenty minutes to give you a head start, but anything more and I’m playing with fire. So don’t stop for lunch, don’t stop for gas, and by all means avoid the toll roads. Too many cameras rolling at the collection booths.”
More little Predators, Cole thought, parked and waiting.
“Thanks.”
“Obviously I won’t tell them I mentioned Mansur, much less Hector. But if you head down to Baltimore, watch yourself. Just because the Bureau says they never found him doesn’t mean they don’t know where he is. For all I know they’ve staked him out with another goddamn beacon in his pocket, trolling him in the water to see who comes sneaking up from behind. Turn up on their radar and you’ll be seen as a potential member of the competition, and you don’t want the Agency or the Bureau thinking of you that way.”
“Now if I just knew one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Whether you’re really trying to help me, or baiting a trap.”
Bickell smiled. “Welcome to my world, Captain Cole. The way things work in this business, I could sincerely be intending to do you a favor while really doing the opposite, and neither of us would be the wiser.”
“Great.”
“You get used to it, believe it or not. If you’re good at it.”
“And how do you get good at it?”
“By keeping your own counsel, trusting only yourself. A cliché, yes, but only because it’s good advice. The moment somebody tells you he’s on your side, you better start looking for reasons he’d want to do you in.”
“Sounds like a recipe for ending up alone.”
“Guilty as charged.” Bickell spread his arms to encompass the empty lawn. “My wife moved out seven years ago.” He walked a few more feet in silence, a crust of ice crunching beneath his feet. “Back when I bought this place I figured someday all I’d be doing is hunting, fishing, tooling around on the water. But look at that boat of mine — falling apart, stem to stern. I haven’t taken it out since August. Still, the life has its rewards. You’ll see.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when they take me in for questioning.”
Bickell chuckled, but Cole didn’t join in. Bickell turned back toward the house, signaling that he was ready to bring this to a close. Cole had one more question.
“So what’s your theory on Castle, then? You lived and breathed this stuff right there with him. Where do you think he’s gone?”
Bickell stopped. He stroked his chin and looked hard at Cole, as if mulling whether to say anything more.
“Knowing him, and knowing how many players eventually dipped their fingers into this pie at one time or another, I’d say he’s here.”
“Back in the States?”
Bickell nodded grimly.
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t about what happened over there anymore. It’s about what’s happening here. Right now. And he’s determined to be part of it.”
“For which side?”
“His own.”
“Is that the same as the Agency’s?”
“You tell me. No one in Langley will. Why the hell else would I be talking to you?” He looked down at his watch. “I’d say it’s time you got moving. And seeing as how the clock just started, you’d be best advised to walk straight around the house. Stay as far to the right of the drive as you can so you won’t trip the sensor. The alarm will show up on the recording, and the next sound I want them to hear is me coming back through the front door, twenty minutes from now.”
“Much obliged to you.”
“Hey. I never said shit. That’s your version to anyone who asks. And the clock is ticking, Captain Cole.”
Cole nodded and left at double time. By the time he reached the front yard he was sprinting.
CHAPTER NINE
Cole slid onto the passenger seat, out of breath.
“Well?” Steve asked.
“We need to get moving.”
“What did he say?”
“It can wait. We need to go now, and stay off the toll roads.”
“Never should’ve let you read that fortune cookie. You have any idea how long that’ll take?”
“Bickell’s advice. He was expecting me, okay? He had a whole taping system. The Agency set it up for him yesterday on the off chance I’d show up.”
“Holy shit. Yesterday?”
“Said he’s giving me a twenty-minute head start, then he’s phoning in to report my departure.”
“Fuck!” Steve cranked the engine and threw it into gear, spraying gravel from the shoulder. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
“Go easy,” Cole said. “Last thing we need is to get pulled over by some local cop.”
“But he’s phoning this in? To the CIA?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Sorry, I’ll risk the ticket, at least till we’re back to civilization.”
Steve floored it up the dirt road, raising a dust cloud you could’ve seen for miles. Cole checked the map.
“How much gas we got?” Cole asked.
“Enough for a couple hundred miles.”
“Enough to reach Logan, then. And the bus station for me.”
“Was he any help?”
“He thinks this all started with homing beacons, for targeting Predator strikes. Castle paid some guy named Mansur to place them, then got outbid by black hats or privateers, which led to a bunch of fuckups. Like Sandar Khosh, probably. Now everybody’s looking for Castle and Mansur.”
“Castle’s missing?”
“Bickell’s heard he’s back in the States. Thinks he’s caught in the middle of some Agency power struggle.”
“But he’s still official? Still employed?”
“Maybe. Just not at any level he knows of.”
“What about this guy Mansur?”
“You’ll like his last known whereabouts. Baltimore.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
“Bickell seems to think there’s an IntelPro connection, although he never actually said so.”
Steve furrowed his brow.
“Doubtful, from what they’ve been telling me.” He shook his head. “But they could be lying. Or Bickell could be full of it. Maybe neither of them knows what the fuck they’re talking about. What a mess.”
“Why else would Mansur be in Baltimore?”
“Family, maybe? Or a Washington connection, somebody who wants to keep him stashed forty miles down the road. Close, but not too close. Where in Baltimore?”