“We’ll get back to you tomorrow, when we see it in writing,”Allison says. “But as long as you accept my terms, I’m in.”
Irv Shiels is fuming. The others have left, leaving McCoyand Harrick to bear the brunt of his frustration.
“This woman,” Shiels says. “She’s well known?”
“Yes, sir,” McCoy says. “I read one of her novels. I thinkit was a bestseller.”
“That’s wonderful. Jesus H. So this will be a big story.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir.” Harrick clears his throat. “Sir,” he says, “we shouldbury this thing. Talk to the county attorney. Tell them to hold a pressconference, say the murder of Sam Dillon is unsolved, and make Larry Evans feelsafe. That makes more sense than going through with this whole charade.”
Shiels looks at McCoy, not Harrick, holds a stare on her.McCoy figures it’s one of two things. One, the boss is wondering what the hellHarrick is still doing in the room. Shiels is the SAC, and McCoy is runningthis operation. This isn’t a roundtable discussion. But Harrick is McCoy’spartner, and she’s made him her right hand on this operation, too. Jane hasbeen on the other side of this before and never appreciated being left out.
Or two, Shiels is insulted. Don’t you think that occurred tous, Agent Harrick?
“That doesn’t work.” Shiels flicks a hand like he’s swattinga fly. “One, we’d have to share a whole helluva lot with Elliot Raycroft tomake him do that. This is an election year. A huge homicide in hisjurisdiction, and he has a primary challenger, if you hadn’t noticed. And he’sa Republican, too, Agent Harrick, if you hadn’t noticed that, either, so it’snot exactly a waltz to reelection. He’ll be crucified if this comes back‘unsolved.’ ”
Harrick nods, too enthusiastically.
“And at any rate, this thing would boil for a while nomatter what. The county attorney has to investigate this somewhat-a lot-beforehe just walks up to a microphone and says, ‘We have no idea what happened.We’re folding up shop.’ And this whole time, Larry Evans is watching AllisonPagone, and he’s wondering, and if the CA is too eager in pronouncing this‘unsolved,’ he’ll wonder even more.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you think”-Shiels’s face is hot now-“you think ourfriends in Virginia are going to let us confide in a local prosecutor aboutthis?”
“Understood, sir.”
“To say nothing of Allison Pagone,” Shiels adds. “She’s indanger now, I think you’d agree, Agent?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How do you think we are most effective keeping her safe,Agent? Do we whisk her away to federal protective custody right now?”
Harrick, licking his wounds from the scolding, struggles forthe answer that will be least offensive.
“No, we can’t do that,” Shiels says, answering his ownquestion, “because the operation dies if Allison Pagone dies-or if they thinkshe dies. Doctor Lomas folds up shop, and there’s no formula, and there’s nochance to catch Muhsin al-Bakhari or whoever. So that’s not acceptable. You seethat, Agent?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So her being charged with murder is the best way to dothat. She’s a big news item. Anything happens to her now, it would receivetremendous scrutiny. Larry Evans is smart enough to recognize that. And if he’snot, Ram Haroon will remind him. A spotlight shining on Allison Pagone is thebest way to keep her alive and help us do what we need to do.”
Harrick, at this point, looks like one of those bobble-headdolls, he’s nodding so rapidly.
“So you see, Agent Harrick, where just telling Raycroft thatwe’re fighting an international terrorist operation, and could he please take apass on this high-profile murder, maybe isn’t such a hot idea.”
“You made your point, sir,” McCoy says, hoping to interruptthe tantrum. “Several times over. It’s been a long day for everyone.”
She waits a beat. On the scale of career moves, this onedidn’t rate a perfect ten. No, this one would fall slightly above kicking theboss in the balls.
“Okay.” Shiels runs a hand over his face. “Right.”
“We have to talk to Haroon, sir,” McCoy says. “He has to beclear on this.”
“I know. We need clearance.” Shiels sighs. “I have to callthe director.”
“I’ll meet with him, sir, if you’d like,” she says. “I’lltalk to Haroon.”
“No,” says Shiels. “He’s my guy. I’m the reason we have thisoperation.”
Normally, this operation would probably be handled by CIA orthe NSA, or some combination. But Shiels knows Haroon, from way back-he’s thereason Haroon pushed for this city as a locale-so Shiels is the logical choiceto communicate with Haroon.
“God.” Shiels shakes his head. “I haven’t seen him foryears.”
“He doesn’t know, does he?” McCoy asks. “He doesn’t knoweverything?”
Shiels closes his eyes, makes a face. “He doesn’t know, buthe probably suspects.”
That makes sense to McCoy. Haroon is basically the bagman.He gets the formula from Larry Evans, he pays Evans, and he delivers theformula for the poison to the Liberation Front. Surely, Haroon must suspectthat if he delivers the formula directly to a high-ranking member of theLibbies, the U.S. Special Forces will be ready to pounce. And he must know thathe could be caught in the crossfire. He must have known this the moment he wassent to this city by the Libbies, and he contacted the U.S. government to letthem know he was coming.
“All Ram Haroon knows,” says Shiels, “is that Doctor Lomasand Larry Evans will finish their formula, then give him a sample to verify thepoison works. Haroon will pretend to sample it and will tell Evans that it’sacceptable. Then he’ll transfer the twenty-five million to an account thatEvans specifies. Once the money transfer is made, Evans will deliver theformula for the poison to Haroon. Then Haroon will take the formula and modifyit-change it, so that no matter what else happens, it’s not really a formulafor poison-and he’ll deliver it to the Liberation Front. Haroon will be trustedenough to deliver it directly to one of the shura majlis. Directly to Muhsinal-Bakhari. We’ll nail Evans and put him away for life, we’ll catch DoctorLomas, and we’ll catch the brains and spirit behind the Liberation Front.”
Shiels works the kinks out of his neck. “So yeah, Haroon isprobably smart enough to know that this could end in an ambush. He knows hecould be giving up his life for this. He already has instructions, if he’scaught by U.S. Special Forces, to identify himself as ‘Zulfikar,’ his givenname, so they know he’s a friend. But in the midst of a gunfight to catchal-Bakhari, all bets are off. I’m sure he’s figured that out.”
“Haroon’s good,” McCoy says, more a request for confirmationthan a statement.
“He’s good.”
“He’ll fool Larry Evans, no question?”
“No question,” says Shiels. “He’s been fooling theLiberation Front for over a decade.”
ONE DAY EARLIER…
Jane McCoy, sitting in her car, looks at her watch. It isclose to one in the morning, Sunday, only forty-five minutes into a new day,and she prays that it is not as eventful as the Saturday that just passed.Normally, she would be asleep now. Instead, she is parked one street over fromthe home where Sam Dillon lives-lived-and where he was murdered only severalhours ago.
She closes her eyes as she listens to her instructionsthrough her cell phone. She still can’t believe that Dillon is dead. This isher fault. Her responsibility. She knew Dillon was at risk. She didn’t expectthis, though.
A fuck-up. A fuck-up times twelve. This thing has justgotten started, and already she’s lost a civilian.
“I will, sir,” she says into her cell phone to IrvingShiels. “You’ll be the first. Okay.”
She punches the cell phone off and looks at Harrick.“Jessica Pagone’s still at her mother’s house,” McCoy says. “I assume she’llspend the night.”
“So what do we do now?” Harrick asks.
