“It’s more sophisticated than your ordinary terrorist,” McGarvey said, his thoughts racing ahead.
“That’s what we thought,” Rudolph agreed. He shoved a file folder across to McGarvey. “What do you make of that?”
The folder contained a half-dozen photographs of McGarvey, some taken outside his apartment in Paris, and one showing him coming out of CIA headquarters in the Nissan Pathfinder. A single sheet of paper contained a partial transcript of a phone intercept from McGarvey’s apartment to Jake’s. Jacqueline had telephoned this morning to make the reservation.
“They knew you would be there,” Rudolph said. “We found this in their car. It would seem that the attack was meant for you. Can you tell us why?”
“No,” McGarvey said, and it was the truth, or almost the truth. The only thing that had changed for him in the past twenty-four hours leading to the attack was Murphy’s job offer. “Did you find the bug?”
Rudolph shook his head. “If there was one on your phone, or at the junction box under the street it was gone by the time we got to it this evening.” He held his peace for a few moments. “Do you still work for the CIA, Mr. McGarvey?”
“I don’t work for the CIA,” McGarvey said. “But they’ve offered me a job.”
“Doing what?”
“I can’t say.”
“Might this attack have something to do with that job offer?”
“I don’t know,” McGarvey said. There were no processing stamps on the back of the photographs, nothing on the single sheet of paper to give any clue who’d been watching him or why. The Paris pictures could have been taken anytime in the past year, but the photograph of him coming out of CIA headquarters had to have been taken in the past few days. He’d picked up the leased Nissan on Tuesday. And the transcript was from this morning. The list of those people who knew he was being offered the DDO wasn’t very long, but starting at the White House it contained some pretty powerful names. If, as Rudolph had asked, the attack was related to the job offer it raised some very disturbing possibilities. Like who had the most to lose if he became DDO? Was it something out of his past after all?
“What about their fingerprints? Have you found a match in your files?”
“Not yet. Our best guess is that we won’t. They’re probably foreign nationals. Possibly Japanese. We’re asking for their help.”
“Good luck,” McGarvey said.
“Goddammit, was this one of your fucking operations gone bad?” Kosiak yelled.
The agent’s outburst stunned them all.
“Get him out of here,” McGarvey said. He could feel his control slipping.
“What are you going to do, big man, pull my fucking face off?”
“The attack wasn’t my fault,” McGarvey said tiredly. “And I don’t want a confrontation with you. I’m not the enemy.”
“How the hell do we know that? You don’t have a recent background. No U.S. driver’s license, no voter registration card, no gun permit. Hell, you haven’t even filed an income tax return, that we can find, for the past ten years. Who the hell are you?”
“I’ve lived in Europe for a long time.”
“You’re a fucking cowboy.”
“That’s enough,” Rudolph cautioned mildly enough to make McGarvey wonder if they were setting him up. Good cop, bad cop. Rudolph made a show of shutting off the tape recorder. “We’ll need a detailed statement from you, of course. But then the question will be what do we do with you?” He shook his head. “You’ve committed a number of crimes which must be answered for. Murder, working out of your jurisdiction, discharging a firearm for which you have no permit, leaving the scene of a crime, actually of two crimes, failure to fully cooperate with a federal investigation.”
“I want to know what happened as much as you do,” McGarvey said.
“Tell me about Ms. Jacqueline Belleau. We found her purse. The French embassy is very interested in her. She was a friend?”
“Yes,” McGarvey said.
“Had you known her long? Was she a good friend?”
“We were close,” McGarvey said.
“You spooks stick together, is that it?” Kosiak said.
“Were you aware that Ms. Belleau was an employee of the French secret service?” Rudolph asked blandly. “The reason I mention this is because our counterespionage division has a file on her. There was an incident with a Canadian at the United Nations a few years ago. The boy committed suicide, and Ms. Belleau was asked to leave the United States. Were you aware of this?”
“Not all the details,” McGarvey replied cautiously. He had no idea where Rudolph was taking this.
“Yet three months ago she got a visa to return here apparently with no problem. Can you explain that?”
“No,” McGarvey said. “What’s your point?”
“Just this. There is an outstanding federal warrant for your arrest on unspecified charges. It was issued about four months ago. So far as we could tell the warrant was still valid this afternoon.” Rudolph’s eyes never left McGarvey’s. “Odd thing, but when I went to check on it for further details this evening, I was told that the warrant was a dead issue. It was no longer in force.”
McGarvey shrugged.
“Point is, Ms. Belleau’s name was also on that warrant,” Rudolph said. “Would you care to comment?”
“I can’t.”
“You and she were more than friends, you were working together on something that probably resulted in the attack at the restaurant this afternoon in which a lot of innocent people were hurt or killed.” Rudolph’s thin lips compressed. “That’s the part that gives me the most difficulty. Why didn’t you take your troubles elsewhere?”
“We weren’t working on anything,” McGarvey said.
“Well, the thing is, I don’t believe you,” Rudolph said. “The CIA is not cooperating with us on this one, so I’ve been given the authorization to take this investigation wherever it leads.” His beeper chirped, and he glanced at it then looked over at Salmon and Kosiak. “Take him downstairs and read him his rights this time. We’ll keep him here until morning when we can transfer him to the metropolitan police.” Rudolph got up. “I’m sorry about your friend, and about your daughter’s injuries, Mr. McGarvey. But there were other people at that restaurant whom you should have considered.” He gave McGarvey a last look then left.
“On your feet,” Kosiak said, with obvious relish.
McGarvey got up. “Do I get a phone call?”
“Depends on how well you behave yourself.” Kosiak turned McGarvey around and cuffed his hands behind his back.
He and Salmon led him back down the corridor to the elevator, where they had to wait for the car to come up from the first floor.
“Did the car rental agency in Baltimore say which one of the three rented the Mercedes?” McGarvey asked.
Kosiak gave him an elbow in the ribs.
“You’re going to learn to control your mouth, CIA boy,” Kosiak said.
The elevator door opened when Rudolph called to them from the end of the corridor. “Wait up.”
They turned as he and Tommy Doyle came down the hall. The FBI man was mad, and he seemed embarrassed. “Take the cuffs off him.”
“Sir?” Kosiak asked.
“I said take the handcuffs off Mr. McGarvey. There’s been a mistake.”
For a second Kosiak wasn’t going to comply, but then he hauled McGarvey around and did as he was told.
“Stop at the counter downstairs; your weapon will be returned to you,” Rudolph said.
“If you come up with anything, please let me know,” McGarvey said. “So far as I can, I’ll do the same for you.”
“I appreciate that,” Rudolph said tightly. “Now get the fuck out of here.”