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Ryan had two children, but the young man who answered the door in a T-shirt and cutoffs came as another surprise. He was the spitting image of his father, but whereas Ryan almost always seemed to be scowling, his son, who McGarvey figured was fifteen or sixteen, had a big grin on his face.

“Mr. McGarvey?”

“Yes.”

“Dad’s in back.” The young Ryan led McGarvey through the pleasantly furnished house and through the big kitchen to the patio where the elder Ryan, dressed in swim trunks, was reclining in a chaise lounge next to the pool, while his twelve-year-old daughter was swimming. Ryan’s son raced the last few feet and jumped into the water next to his sister, swamping her.

Ryan’s wife, Evangeline, dressed in a tennis skirt and polo shirt, glanced nervously at McGarvey from where she was slipping steaks on the built-in grill. McGarvey got the impression that the scene had been staged for his benefit, to show him that Howard Ryan wasn’t such a bad guy after all. It was a Ryan insulation factor, one of the tricks he’d used to stay in power so long.

“Well, I never expected to see you as a guest in my home.” Ryan motioned McGarvey to the chaise lounge next to his. “Care for a drink?”

“A beer will be fine,” McGarvey said.

While Evangeline went into the kitchen to get the beer, McGarvey watched Ryan making a point of watching his children playing in the pool. Even in swim trunks the former Wall Street attorney looked like he was dressed in his habitual three-piece suits. As general counsel for the CIA he had been nothing short of brilliant, and for a few years the agency had enjoyed an unprecedented run of excellent relations with Congress and the White House. When he’d been made deputy director of Operations, however, he’d become a dangerous fool and had caused the agency almost as much harm as Aldrich Ames. After he was fired, he started up a consulting firm for congressional relations. His chief clients were the CIA and the National Security Agency. He was still well connected.

In a way, McGarvey figured his coming here was an exercise in futility. And seeing Ryan relaxing with his family in this setting was depressing. It brought home to McGarvey what he had given up in service to his country. His work, so far as he could see, had never made a difference, except that his ex-wife and daughter had been placed in harm’s way. No matter what kind of a fool Ryan was, he had this.

“I didn’t come here to make trouble,” McGarvey said. “We could have met on neutral grounds.”

Ryan turned a skeptical gaze to him. “The advantage would have been yours. I suppose congratulations would be in order, except for that horrible terrorist attack. Will your daughter recover?”

“Physically, yes.”

Ryan looked at his own children again. “I hope so,” he said wistfully. “I never meant for the situation in Russia to get so out of hand. Poor judgement on my part.” He shrugged. “I should never have become DDO. It was a mistake, I can see that now. I was out of my depth. But I don’t love my country any less than you do.”

Ryan had sent Liz into a situation in Europe in which she was way over her head, and it had almost cost her her life. General Murphy had finally fired him because of it, and had McGarvey been able to get to him at the time, he might have killed the man. Now it didn’t matter, though it had nothing to do with Ryan’s disingenuous admission.

“I don’t expect you do, which is why I’ve come to ask for your help.”

Ryan looked at him with genuine surprise and a little pleasure tinged with suspicion. “With what?”

“Somebody doesn’t want me to take the job.”

“You think the attack was meant for you and was directed by someone who knew there was a good chance you might escape unharmed. By killing a lot of innocent bystanders they hoped that pressure would be brought to bear to force you to step down. Is that what you’re intimating?”

“Something like that.”

Ryan looked startled. “Good heavens, you can’t possibly think that I had anything to do with it?” Ryan absently touched a scar on his cheek. He’d almost been killed by an assassin’s bullet meant for McGarvey a few years ago. “I may be a lot of things you don’t like, but not that.”

“I think you might try to cut me off at the knees legally or politically, but not that way,” McGarvey said. Ryan seemed genuinely relieved, but he was still suspicious.

Evangeline brought the beer, handed it to McGarvey without a word then went back to the grill. She seemed a little frightened. McGarvey figured his name probably wasn’t a household word, but it had been mentioned.

“You know a lot of people in town, I want to know what you’ve been hearing.”

“There’s a lot of turmoil in Russia, if that’s what you’re talking about. The Mafia is doing business as usual, but I don’t think they would make any effort to have you eliminated, though that kind of terrorism is right down their alley. They simply would have nothing to gain or lose by you becoming DDO. Nor would what’s left of Tarankov’s old regime. They’re trying to hang on until the dust settles. Nobody knows what’ll happen after the elections. Could just all be swept under the rug and forgotten, a course of action I’d certainly recommend.”

“Not the Russians,” McGarvey said. “I’m guessing it’s the Japanese again.”

“Because of that thing with Kamiya and Guerin Airplane Company?”

“Something else has come up. It hasn’t hit the media yet, but it will.”

Ryan looked over at Evangeline at the grill. “Pull the steaks off the heat for now, sweetheart. I won’t be long.” He got up, grabbed a terry cloth jacket and motioned for McGarvey to follow him back into the house.

They went into the study on the opposite side of the house from the pool, and Ryan closed the door. In addition to books, the walls were filled with framed photographs of Ryan with several presidents and congressional leaders, as well as a number of certificates of recognition and his law degree from Harvard.

“I used to make everyone sign the secrets act acknowledgement before I would brief them. Now that the tables are reversed all I can do is give you my word that anything said won’t leave this room unless we both agree to it first. But you have come to me for help.”

McGarvey nodded. “Fair enough, Howard.” He thought that Ryan wouldn’t dare cross him again. “The day before yesterday there was an underground nuclear explosion at an inactive power station on North Korea’s east coast.”

Ryan whistled long and low and sat back in his chair. “Was it the reactor? An accident?”

“One of our subs spotted a Japanese sub that probably put a party ashore. The explosion was most likely sabotage, but it wasn’t the reactor. It was probably a North Korean nuclear weapon. One of five.”

Ryan’s mind was going a thousand miles per hour, obvious from the look on his face. “What’s Pyongyang saying?”

“Nothing. Neither is Tokyo. But the Chinese are sending in a couple of submarines.”

“The North Koreans have said or done nothing?”

“So far.”

“All right, what does this have to do with you? Where are you seeing the connection, because frankly from what you’ve told me, this is nothing more than the Japanese taking a threat seriously enough to do something about it. What does your taking the DDO slot have to do with them?”

“Two of Kamiya’s people, who were in jail until recently, were spotted together near Sasebo, the base from which the submarine sailed. And the terrorists Friday were Asians. Lots of coincidences.”

“That part wasn’t in the papers either,” Ryan said. “Have they been identified?”

“Not yet. But the FBI thinks they were Japanese.”

Ryan thought it out. “You’ve gone up against the Japanese twice in the past four years, and they lost both times. As DDO you’d be an even bigger thorn in their side. Could it be that simple?”