“Then they’ll kill you,” she said. “You’ll make a mistake. You’ll be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’ll trust someone you shouldn’t. They won’t keep missing. Sooner or later they will succeed.”
“Then you go,” he said gently. What did he feel toward her? His sense of responsibility and obligation clouded his inner thoughts.
“I’m not leaving, David,” she said, using his given name for the first time. “I meant what I said last night. I love you. I won’t abandon you. Let’s get out of here. Far away. Now. Together. Please!”
“I… I can’t,” McAllister said, the words choking in his throat, a heavy feeling in his chest. “I can’t just leave it.”
“You must! You can’t win, not against all of them!”
“I have to try.”
“Why?” she shrieked. “What are you trying to prove?”
“Someone set me up, someone is trying to kill me.” He was seeing Miroshnikov’s face swimming in a mist in front of his eyes. The Russian interrogator was smiling.
We have made great progress together, you and I. I am so very proud of you, Mac, so very pleased.
How could he ever forget the pain and the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the Russians? Of one Russian in particular.
“They’ll keep trying, don’t you see that?” Stephanie cried. “It means I’m on the right track,” he said. Sweat popped out on his forehead.
Stephanie came across the room to him and hesitantly reached up and touched his face, his cheeks, his lips as if she were a blind person trying to learn what he looked like. “I had to try,” she said softly. “For you. For us. But I think I finally understand why you can’t turn your back on everything and run away. I could do it, but not you. It’s the Company. Your father. Your friends. Your obligations.. your wife.” McAllister closed his eyes. He could see Gloria’s face now, contorted into a mask of fury and hate, the gun in her hand. Traitor, she had screamed at him, and she had sincerely meant to kill him. The pain was almost beyond endurance. He had to know why. At least that much.
“I understand, darling, believe me I do,” Stephanie was saying. McAllister opened his eyes and reached for her, drawing her close. “Do you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, her heart beating against his chest. “Whatever you do I’ll stay with you. I won’t desert you, I promise.”
“And afterward?” he asked. “If there is an afterward?” She looked up at him. “That will be up to you,” she said. “But for now we have four names to follow up, four leads from the computer. It’s something.”
“Five,” McAllister said.
A look of confusion crossed her features. She glanced over at the computer printout on the table. “Four…,’ she started.
“There was something I didn’t tell you about last night,” McAllister said.
She looked up into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. She was shivering.
“The O’Haire file was restricted. Entry required a password. I tried zebra, spelled forward and backward, and I tried the word spies. Nothing worked. Finally, in desperation I used the only other word I could think of: Highnote.”
“That was the correct password?” McAllister nodded. “Oh, God.”
“Before I go after the other four, I’ve got to see him again.”
“No, David, I won’t allow that. Anything but that.”
“I must.”
“I can’t stand by and watch you commit suicide,” she said, pulling away. “Don’t you see that? It’s been Highnote all along. It has to be!”
“Then I’ll find that out.”
“No,” she cried.
“Yes. It’s the only way. Everything else would be meaningless. I must know.
Chapter 16
It was only a few minutes after six, yet it was already dark. Traffic on Langley’s Washington Parkway was heavy. The day shift at CIA headquarters had just let out. McAllister watched from where he was parked at the side of the highway three-quarters of a mile south of the Agency.
He was taking an enormous risk by being here like this. Stephanie had wanted to help, but in the end he convinced her that it would be much safer if he approached Highnote on his own. If anything went wrong, she would still be free. She could get to Dexter Kingman with the entire story. It was something at least.
Earlier when he had walked over to the parking ramp where they’d left the Chevrolet Celebrity they’d rented at Dulles in the name of Treffano Miglione, it had struck him that the city was decorated. Colored lights were strung across the streets, noel candles and brightly lit wreaths were hung on lightposts, and many of the store windows held elaborate displays. It was less than two weeks before Christmas. He’d forgotten completely about it, and with the realization came a sudden ache for something he’d never really had as an adult: a family, someone for whom Christmas would mean something.
At first he’d thought about telephoning Highnote, setting up another meeting like the one they’d had at the rest stop off the Interstate north of the city, but he suspected there would be monitors on all incoming calls now. Nor would it be safe to approach his old friend at home again. There was sure to be a surveillance team on duty out there.
Do the unexpected. His investigation had taken on a life of its own, sweeping him and Stephanie along, at times in an uncontrollable headlong rush; as if they were trapped in a small boat racing downstream toward a deadly waterfall.
He’d been watching in the rearview mirror as traffic from the northpassed beneath a tall sodium-vapor light a hundred yards back. A black Cadillac approached. McAllister looked up as it passed, recognizing Robert Highnote behind the wheel. He flipped on his headlights and pulled out into traffic, speeding up to get directly behind the Cadillac.
Highnote was alone. McAllister had counted on that, as he had counted on the fact that his old friend was a creature of habit who almost always took off work at six sharp and drove directly home. Despite the pressure the man had to be under because of recent events, he apparently was maintaining his schedule.
A couple of miles south, Highnote got off the Parkway at Arlingwood. McAllister held his position behind him for a half a mile until there was a break in traffic, then pulled out to pass.
As McAllister got alongside, he matched speed, glancing from the oncoming traffic over to Highnote, who after a moment, realizing that something was happening, looked over. His reaction, when it finally came, was one of incredulity.
McAllister smiled wanly, motioned for Highnote to follow him, then sped up, pulling in front of the Cadillac. His old friend had two choices now. He could either follow, or he could pull off at the nearest telephone and sound the alert. He knew the car now, and the license number.
The road split a mile later; south toward Arlington Heights, and east toward Falls Church. McAllister hung far enough back so that there was not enough gap between his and Highnote’s car for someone to pull between them. He turned east, Highnote remaining directly behind him, and he breathed his first sigh of relief. For now, at least, there was going to be no trouble. Highnote was apparently at least willing to listen.
The countryside here was hilly and very dark. Twenty minutes later it had begun to snow lightly as McAllister pulled into the parking lot of a small but elegant dinner club a couple of miles beyond Falls Church. The parking lot was half filled at this hour. It was just the sort of place he had been looking for, and had expected to find here. He parked in the back and got out of his car as Highnote pulled up and parked beside him.“I got your message,” McAllister said, as Highnote climbed out of his car. They stood facing each other.
“Where is Stephanie Albright?”
“Safe.”
“Then she is working with you?”
