“They’re watching, all right. But I don’t think they’re expecting anyone, Kirk. They’re sloppy. Our advantage.”
Trotter had found them a top-floor apartment in the eight-story building; it was just tall enough for them to have a clear line of sight to Yarnell’s house and Wisconsin Avenue beyond, yet it wasn’t so far away that they couldn’t make out a reasonable amount of detail with optics. The only disadvantage was that they had no clear view of the garage behind the house where the cars were kept. The first they would know that Yarnell or anyone else was on the move would be when a car came around the corner of the house and emerged from the gate directly onto Scott Place and then 32nd Street. But by then the angle would be all wrong for them to see inside the car. Yarnell could come and go as he pleased unless they permanently stationed a man down on the street, which at best was dangerous, no matter how lax Yarnell’s people seemed to be. But if anyone showed up they would know it. And they had a clear view into at least six rooms of the house.
“We couldn’t get much closer, in all good conscience, Kirk,” Trotter explained. “I don’t want his people picking us out. He’d go to ground immediately.”
McGarvey straightened up and lit a cigarette. From here they would begin their surveillance of Yarnell. For better or worse, whether the man picked them out of the crowd or not (and McGarvey suspected he would), he wanted to see what Yarnell was up to, what his routine was. He wanted a measure of the man’s daily habits; his comings and goings; the time the electric meter reader came by; the time the postman delivered the mail; the grocery runs, the emergencies, if any. McGarvey wanted it all. Once a base had been built, then they would find the weak link in the man’s armor.
“Have you got good people for me, John? Anyone I know? Experts?”
Trotter had to smile. “You know two of them from Lausanne. They’re professionals, believe me. They’ll do the job for you.”
McGarvey glanced again out the window toward Yarnell’s fortress. Yes, he thought, there was a job to be done here. But that was only a part of it. He himself had watched Yarnell while poor Janos was being shot to death at some service station beside the highway, his body stuffed unceremoniously in a men’s room. Yarnell had his army. But was he the king … or was he merely a general?
The apartment was large and well furnished. It contained two bedrooms, an efficiency kitchen, two bathrooms, and a long living room — dining room combination in which the surveillance equipment had been set up.
“They’ll be back within the hour,” Trotter said. “I sent them away for the afternoon. I wanted to have a little chat with you before they got started. Ground rules.”
McGarvey didn’t feel like showing his old friend much mercy. “You want me to kill Yarnell for you, but you don’t want your crew to know about it.”
Trotter’s jaw tightened. “We’ve gone a long way for you, Kirk. We’ve bent over backward to accommodate your needs. Don’t push us too far.”
“Then I’ll quit and return to Switzerland.”
This time Trotter did not react the way he had before. This time McGarvey had Janos’s murder on his conscience. It was a psychological weapon Trotter was going to be using regularly from now on. McGarvey could see the entire plan, and it saddened him in a way. Nothing had changed, it seemed, in the five years he’d been out of the fold. There was no honor here, as someone at the Farm had once told him about the spy business. “We’re dealing in what is fundamentally one of the most dishonest occupations in the world; that of inducing perfectly ordinary people to betray their country, to go back on their principles and ideals. Don’t expect any honorable men in the profession,” he’d been told. “And don’t expect to keep your honor intact for very long, not if you want to be very good at your job.” But then, assassins were not to be treated with honor in any event; respect, of course, but not honor.
“Build the case for them, Kirk. Tell them all the little bits you want — of course, they already understand that a surveillance operation on our Mr. Yarnell has been ordered. Tell them, if you’d like, how you were recruited, or why, and that you’ve been brought in as an outsider to prove Yarnell’s guilt. But leave out the part about the prosecution, will you? It’s all we’re asking. Not much.”
“If I don’t?”
“They will be withdrawn.”
“By then it would be too late. If they know what might happen and it actually does, they will come forward during the investigation that will follow.”
“No they won’t, Kirk.”
Again McGarvey glanced out the window. “I won’t take that risk, John.”
“Under the circumstances I don’t think you have much choice.”
McGarvey turned back. There was an odd light in Trotter’s eyes. “What circumstances?”
Trotter puffed up a little. “We had to have our insurance, too. You must understand that. You would not be welcomed back in Switzerland, that part of your life is over with. There is simply nothing left there for you to go back to. And, from what I understand, Kathleen will probably marry Phillip Brent.”
“What are you getting at?” McGarvey asked softly.
“Do you know this man? Have you heard of him?”
“He wants to sue me for an increase in Kathleen’s alimony. Harassment …” Another chilling thought suddenly struck McGarvey. “Who is he, John? What does he have to do with this?”
“It wasn’t up to me,” Trotter said. “I mean, I knew nothing about it until after the fact.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t catch it. But then you were out of the country so long that the name couldn’t have meant anything to you. And these past couple of days have been hectic at best … confusing.”
McGarvey was having a very bad premonition about this.
“Phillip Brent is one of Darby Yarnell’s closest friends and associates. They do a lot of business together. In fact, Kathleen and Elizabeth have been frequent houseguests—”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” McGarvey swore softly. “Down there?” he demanded, pointing toward Yarnell’s fortress.
“There. Yes.”
A wave of anger and disbelief washed over McGarvey. That and fear, not only for what was and had been happening, but fear for what he might do.
“How long has it been going on?” he asked.
Trotter said nothing.
“How long, John?”
“A year. Maybe a little longer.”
“My ex-wife and daughter and Phillip Brent have been pals with Darby Yarnell for more than a year?”
Trotter nodded.
McGarvey could feel his blood pressure rising. The old meanness was coming back. Only this time he felt dangerous. “Not only didn’t you mention this in Lausanne, it was the very reason you came to me in the first place, wasn’t it? Whose idea was it, yours or Leonard Day’s? The joke was on me the whole time, wasn’t it? You must have had quite a few laughs.”
“No one is laughing about this, Kirk. On that you must believe me. Yarnell was and is a very dangerous man—”
“Who is involved with my ex-wife and daughter!”
“He must be eliminated.”
“And I am the only man for the job, is that it? Can’t miss with Kirk. He has a personal stake in this.”
“If you warn her and she suddenly withdraws, Yarnell will become suspicious. It would be extremely dangerous for her, Kirk. Surely you can see that.”
“You don’t involve families, John. Don’t you remember the old score?” McGarvey was sick at heart. He realized now that he knew absolutely nothing about dishonor. He’d never really known about it.