“I take it your natives are restless, Old Pro.”
Steve, unable to hear him over the din, leaned closer.
“What’s that?”
“I said, I take it your natives are restless.” He was practically shouting.
“Why shouldn’t they be?” Steve shouted back. “You fucked us over in not telling us about Mansur.”
His use of Mansur’s name was an intentional breach of protocol, for shock value, although the Source took it in stride.
“Did what about Mansur?”
“Fucked us over!”
The Source smiled and leaned back, mouthing “Moi?” as he spread his arms wide. Steve was about to answer when the waitress arrived with the Scotch and a bowl of nuts. She disappeared before taking Steve’s order.
“Yes, you,” Steve prodded. “How ’bout an explanation?”
“A what?”
“You heard me.”
The Source leaned across the table.
“You know how it works between us, Old Pro. Give some to get some. A two-way street.”
This was another ground rule, one that Steve had never dared mention to Barb and Keira. As part of the arrangement, Steve provided updates on the progress of their investigation, including a summary of what his colleagues were up to. It made him uneasy, but it was the only way the Source would agree to keep talking.
“Not much to report, other than the arrival of the pilot,” Steve said. “B ran the tags on your vehicle. That’s how we learned it was your guys holding Mansur.”
“We were transporting him, not holding him. Important distinction.”
“And now you’ve moved him. K checked this morning and the whole place was cleared out, furniture and everything. They even left the door ajar.”
“Of course we moved him. You’d compromised his safety.”
“So a reporter can scare him away, but not the FBI?”
“They know where to find him.”
“That’s not what we heard.”
“Use your head, Old Pro. It would hardly be a secure arrangement if the Bureau wasn’t in on it.”
“Secure from what?”
“From whom would be the better question.”
“Our main man?”
“It’s all right. These drunks will never notice if you use his name.” He grinned smugly. “Even his real one. Wade Castle.”
So the Source had known the name all along. It rankled, but it would be useless to complain, so Steve instead pushed for more.
“An Agency source of ours doesn’t seem to think Mansur is being held for his own protection. And he’s pretty certain the Bureau doesn’t know about it.”
The reference to Bickell’s information was also supposed to raise an eyebrow, but the Source again took it in stride.
“What makes you so sure the Agency really wants to find Mansur, much less old Wade Castle? Tell me, on your little visit to Lake Woggawogga, or whatever they call it up in New Hampshire, did your friend with the dirty fishing boat surprise you by being more helpful than expected?”
Who had told him all this? Somewhere there was a leak, either among themselves or among their sources.
“How do you know about that?”
“I know all sorts of things. The hidden ball trick. How to smash a trachea with a rolled-up newspaper.”
“Then why should I tell you anything?”
“Because that’s our arrangement. You haven’t answered my question.”
“Yes, he was helpful.”
“Which should tell you what?”
“Disinformation?”
“Eureka. You begin to see the light. People like him are very squeamish and virginal about people like me. He probably ranted on and on about green badgers and blue badgers, didn’t he?”
True enough. But Bickell’s info on Mansur had certainly been more helpful than any recent offerings from the Source. The problem, Steve supposed, was that both men might have good reason to lead a trio of journalists astray. The Source leaned forward again, this time until their foreheads were almost touching. The music rose to a throb, and there was an explosion of laughter from the bar.
“I can see that you’re conflicted, Old Pro. Totally at sea. Let me clarify the situation. The story is the same as it’s been from the beginning. Wade Castle has gone rogue, and his employers are still covering for him. So please get your partners — carnal or not — into line on that as soon as possible.”
“My colleagues will pursue any line of inquiry they choose, and we’re not fucking.”
“You should freshen your drink, Old Pro. You get testy when you fall behind.”
“Stop calling me Old Pro. And the waitress never took my order.”
The Source frowned.
“My goodness. You’re absolutely right.”
He held aloft his right hand and nodded.
“It’s not important,” Steve said, but she was already on her way.
“A beer for this gentleman, please. Something worthy and on tap.”
She smiled and disappeared.
“Bickell said Castle’s in-country,” Steve said.
“So even they’re admitting it, now? Interesting.”
“You knew that?”
The Source shrugged.
“We hear things. Sometimes it’s hard to know what to believe.”
“He seems to think Castle’s been misunderstood, that he’s a whistleblower on a crusade.”
“More damage control.”
“Bickell didn’t seem like the type to spout the company line.”
“It’s part of his charm. The wronged man, so therefore he must be telling the truth. And to his mind I’m sure it feels that way.”
“A lot of it adds up.”
“Cover stories usually do. Tell me, when’s the last time you heard of an Agency asset — a legitimate one — working a domestic operation?”
“Point taken.”
“Point taken? I believe that’s what is commonly known as news. You should be doing backflips of joy. It’s illegal as hell, what he’s up to. The fucking cherry on top of your story, unless you wait so long that someone else eats it, or the whole thing melts away. Which is what will happen if you let those two women lead you down a false trail. What’s the matter — worried that if you don’t play along they’ll fuck the pilot first?”
“Go to hell.”
The waitress arrived with his beer. Steve slid it away, sloshing foam down the sides of the glass.
“Calm yourself, Old Pro. Your instincts are sound, always have been. Look, does my shop stand to make a tidier sum if certain people who don’t like us dirty their reputations? Well of course. But that doesn’t change the basic facts.”
“Give me something fresh, then. Something we can use.”
“How ’bout asking a question first?”
“All right. What do you know about other ops he screwed up, yours included?”
“What’s the matter, thirteen lives aren’t enough for you? Plus those other bodies your friend B says she saw?”
“Why hold out on me unless he interfered with something you weren’t supposed to be doing?”
“Sounds like a Bickell theory. Muddying the water again.”
“Then clear it up for me, starting with who his handlers were, who’s covering for him, and why. Names, dates, and places, the more the better. Proof. Proof and verification. Because we can’t just go with a hunch like you guys.”
The Source looked thrown off his stride for the first time, and he sipped his Scotch before answering.
“I can’t do your job for you.”
“Then what about those ex-Agency jocks working at your training facility? B says there are two of them, and they were both connected to Castle.”
“And she wants access?”
“Of course.”
He gave it some thought. Nodded.