“Amazing,” Kondo murmured.
McGarvey did not dwell on the military situation in the Sea of Japan or on the Japanese mainland, because the President was getting that information directly from his military advisers.
The leather-bound briefing folder was on the coffee table in front of Lindsay, but he hadn’t opened it yet.
“I don’t have very good news for you, Mr. President,” McGarvey said.
“I wasn’t expecting any,” Lindsay shot back. “But I don’t want to hear a lot of speculation. Won’t do me any good. What I need are hard facts.”
“Yes, sir,” McGarvey replied. “Fact: Tony Croft committed suicide because he thought he had no other option. He was selling White House policy information to Joseph Lee for a considerable amount of cash that wound up in your campaign fund, and he knew that he was about to be found out.”
The President went pale with anger, and Secor started to object, but he held his national security adviser off. “I’ve known and trusted both of those men for a long time. Tony was a close friend, and Joseph Lee still is. So you’d goddamned well better have some hard proof, Mr. McGarvey, or I’ll personally rip your fucking heart out.”
Secor and Murphy were both taken aback by the outburst, but McGarvey’s eyes never left the President’s.
“The money was funneled from Joseph Lee through the Far East Trade Association here in Washington. The FBI raided their offices last night and found money, documents and encrypted computer records showing payouts to your campaign manager though Croft, as well as to the campaign funds of a number of senators and congressmen.”
Lindsay didn’t blink, nor did he respond.
“In addition to the briefing Croft and his staff conducted for Lee here in the White House last week, the FBI also found documents and computer records in Far East’s files with Tony Croft’s name on them. We don’t know exactly how he passed them the information, except that the call girl he’d been having an affair with for the past six months had been supplied to him by Far East’s executive director, who the FBI have reason to believe once was Joseph Lee’s mistress in Hong Kong.”
“Is all of that included in the briefing?” Lindsay asked, glancing at the folder.
“Yes, sir.” McGarvey nodded. “Fact: Joseph Lee, who went to some trouble to go into hiding in Tokyo, works with or for the Japanese Ministry for International Trade and Industry. Whatever information he got from Croft went directly to them. It means the Japanese government has known about your policy toward it and region for at least the past six months.”
McGarvey could see connections and sudden understandings pop off behind Lindsay’s eyes.
“Those are the facts, Mr. President. The speculation is that Croft didn’t want me to become DDO because he thought, for some reason, that I would discover his nasty secret. So he asked Lee’s people to have me assassinated.”
“Pure fantasy,” Secor exploded.
“Since the Japanese knew your policies, they knew that you would send the Seventh Fleet into the region. It’s something they expected, and we have to assume it’s something they wanted.”
“Why?” the President demanded.
“That’s one answer I don’t even have a speculation for,” McGarvey admitted.
Kondo checked the safety catch on his long-barreled suppressed .22mm semiautomatic assault pistol to make certain it was ready to fire. He took aim on the guard by the tree, then reached up to his lapel mike with his free hand, hesitated a moment and sent the tone signal to start the attack.
Elizabeth was about ready to go back inside when she spotted one of Isaacson’s people beside a tree forty yards away. He was looking directly at her. She stepped out from beneath the overhang, waved and started around the pool. She wanted to have a few words with him, to see what he thought about all of this. She got ten feet when the guard seemed to take a couple of dance steps to the right and then crumpled to the ground.
For a split second she was confused, but suddenly she realized that he might have been shot. The attack they prepared for had just started.
“Ah, shit,” she said.
She pulled out her gun, thumbed the safety catch off and keeping low, darted to the left.
DGSE officer Albert Level thought he heard a movement behind him in the woods near the driveway. He stepped out of the deeper shadows beneath a tree, all of his senses heightened.
The setup here was okay as far as it went. But he wished they’d been equipped with night-vision equipment. Without it they were at a definite disadvantage.
He picked out his partner, Louis Maurois, about thirty meters away. Suddenly Louis fell forward, and before Level could react something very hot stung his neck, causing him an instantaneous wave of dizziness and nausea.
“Merde,” he swore falling back as a second bullet plowed into his shoulder.
He clawed for his M16 assault rifle slung over his shoulder as he dropped to the ground, arterial blood spurting from the neck wound. He keyed his lapel mike. “Control, we’re under attack,” he whispered urgently, remembering to speak in English. “Maurois is down, and I’m hit. We need help out here.”
“I’m calling for it now,” Isaacson came back immediately. “How many are there? And where the hell did they come from?”
“Je ne sais pas,” Level responded. “I don’t know.”
A figure dressed all in black appeared on his left, and before Level could bring his gun around to bear, a thunderclap exploded inside his head.
An angry Todd Van Buren was on his way downstairs, looking for Elizabeth, when he heard the distinctive pops of several M16 rifles on full automatic outside. It was as if a quart of adrenaline were suddenly pumped into his bloodstream. He bolted, drawing his.10 mm Colt as he ran.
“Liz?” he shouted. He raced into the kitchen past a horrified Kathleen McGarvey, Pat Dyer right behind him.
“Todd, stay away from the door,” Dyer shouted.
Van Buren ignored him. He tore open the kitchen door and barged outside.
Dyer switched off the kitchen lights behind him, and in the sudden darkness Van Buren couldn’t see a thing.
A short burst from an M16 came from the woods in front of the house at the same moment Van Buren spotted Liz crouched low on the far side of the pool. He took two steps forward when he was hit in the chest, and suddenly he was lying on his side, the patio tile cool on his cheek.
Van Buren was down behind her, and Elizabeth reacted in fury, firing five shots in rapid succession into the woods, hoping that any CIA officers left were well concealed.
Someone grunted like a pig, and there was another flurry of M16 fire from the front.
She raced around the end of the pool, firing two more shots over her shoulder into the woods. Whoever was still standing back there wasn’t returning her fire, but she refused to consider why, her concentration instead completely on Van Buren, who was struggling to sit up while firing into the woods.
There were twelve officers outside, and only Isaacson and Dyer inside now with Kathleen. Two others had gone back into town this evening because of personal problems, and Isaacson hadn’t considered it necessary to call for their replacements. It might have been a big mistake, Elizabeth had the fleeting thought as she hauled Van Buren to his feet.