fountains.
Three men were seated around a glass-topped wrought-iron table.
On the left was Paul Innes, who got to his feet when Highnote entered. “Thanks for coming this morning on such short notice,” Innes said shaking hands. He was a thick-waisted man with pitch-black hair and heavy eyebrows. His grip was firm. Like Highnote he had come out of Harvard, serving with a prestigious New York law firm before becoming assistant district attorney for New York State. He’d served on the bench as a federal judge in the Seventh Circuit before being called to the Justice Department during Reagan’s first year in office. The man was a survivor. He’d been one of the few who had somehow managed the juggling act of appearing to support his boss Edwin Meese while maintaining a very low profile with the news media. Introductions were unnecessary. Highnote knew the other two men very well. Across from Innes was Alvan Reisberg, deputy associate director of the FBI, and during the past six months also acting assistant director of the Bureau’s Special Investigative Division-two hats which he wore exceedingly well. With his nearly obese figure and bottlethick glasses, which gave him a permanently bemused air, he was often mistaken for an academic, when in reality he was the nation’s top investigative officer. He looked up and nodded.
To Innes’s left, opposite the empty chair, was Melvin Quarmby, general counsel for the National Security Agency, and former assistant dean of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Quarmby was almost Spanish in his aristocratic bearing and manner. In addition to his law degree he held Phd’s in physics and chemistry and was said to be a competent electronics engineer and computer expert. He half stood up, holding his napkin in his lap with his left hand, while reaching across the table with his right to shake Highnote’s hand.
“Have you eaten?” Innes asked as they sat down. “Just coffee,” Highnote said, and Quarmby passed the sterling server.
“I’ll be brief, as I expect you gentlemen will be,” Innes began. “I spoke with the President at five o’clock this morning. It was he who suggested this initial meeting.”
“What exactly are we talking about here?” Highnote asked. Innes looked at him cooly. “Before we get started, I want it stated for the record that this meeting is being taped. I want no doubt of that afterward in anyone’s mind.” He turned to Reisberg. “Alvan?”
“Alvan Reisberg, FBI, I understand.”
“Melvin Quarmby, National Security Agency, so advised.” Innes turned again to Highnote.
“Robert Highnote, CIA. I understand these proceedings are being recorded, but I have not yet been advised of the nature of this meeting.”
“Thank you,” Innes said. “This morning the President appointed me as special prosecutor in the matter of David McAllister, a man whom in a manner of speaking you are all familiar with… in Bob’s case, intimately.”
Highnote was stunned. “This has been an internal matter, and it’s a damned sight premature to be talking about prosecution.”
“I can’t agree,” Innes said. “Especially in light of what happened last night.”
“You’ve obviously seen my report. We damned near had him. But I think he showed remarkable restraint under the circumstances in avoiding any civilian casualties.”
“We’ll certainly get back to that, Bob. But for now I’m speaking about another incident.” Innes glanced at the NSA man, Quarmby. “This will probably not come as a surprise to you.”
“Like the others, I’m here and I’m listening,” Quarmby said. “Last night James and Liam O’Haire were murdered at the federal penitentiary at Marion, Illinois. Their bodies were found in a trash container ready for shipment off prison grounds. They’d been stabbed at least one hundred times.” Quarmby’s eyebrows rose. “If you understand the significance that act has for the NSA, then I commend you on your range of information.”
“The President handed me everything this morning. There will be no secrets among us in this room. I can’t stress the importance of this business too strongly.”
“None of us expected the O’Haires to last very long in a generalpopulation prison,” Highnote said. “But evidently I’m missing something of significance.”
“Yesterday afternoon a National Security Agency communications intercept unit at Fort Meade recorded a high-speed burst transmission emanating from Moscow and directed to an as yet unknown location here in the Washington area,” Innes said.
“Our guess, of course, would be the Soviet Embassy,” Quarmby added.
“A portion of that message was decoded last night. Unfortunately it came too late to be of any use. Two names showed up in the message: McAllister and O’Haire.”
“McAllister couldn’t have killed them, if that’s what you’re driving at,” Highnote said.
“That’s right,” Innes said. “But the message does prove, or at least strongly suggest, a connection.”
“You’ve no doubt read all my reports. You must know our assessment.”
“You’re talking about his arrest and incarceration at the KGB’s Lubyanka center?”
“They had him for more than a month, Paul. God only knows what they did to him there, how they… altered him.”
Innes nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve spoken with him twice. Face-to-face. You tell me how he appeared to you. Was he deranged?”
“He’s driven, I can tell you that much. And yes, he is changed.
At the very least they gave him massive doses of drugs, and possibly some torture. He admitted just about everything to them. William Lacey, our charge d’affaires in Moscow, was given a copy of his confession. There was a lot of fallout.”
“Fallout?” Innes asked. “What exactly is meant by that?”
“McAllister named a lot of names. Many of them were still active behind the Iron Curtain. There wasn’t much we could do to help them, because of the timing. The Russians had the information, at least some of it, for weeks before we were given a chance to see his confession.”
“There were arrests?”
Highnote nodded. “Arrests, trials, and in some cases executions.
In other instances there were… accidents.” Innes’s eyes narrowed. “Our people were simply assassinated?”
“Yes,” Highnote said.
“And what are we doing about this?”
Highnote sat back in his chair and looked at the others. “There hasn’t been much we could do about it. As I said, by the time we got this information, it was already too late.”
“But surely once McAllister had been arrested by the KGB, you must have suspected that they would get that information from him. Certainly you are aware of their methods, of that technology. You must have known that McAllister could not have held anything back. Why weren’t your networks rescued, or at the very least warned off”
Again Highnote hesitated for a moment, his thoughts ranging far afield. “I think we’re getting into an area here that I don’t have the authorization to speak about. There are certain sensitive ongoing projects.”
“I appreciate that,” Innes said. “But as I’ve told you, I have the President’s complete confidence in this matter. Nothing is to be held back. Nothing.”
“I’m sorry, but some of what you are asking this morning has no bearing on McAllister.”
“The President is waiting for your call,” Innes said without blinking. “Any of you may speak with him before we proceed.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“I do,” Innes said. “I will not be lied to, nor will I be sidestepped.
If need be you will be subpoenaed to appear in camera before the Senate Intelligence Committee.”
“Perhaps that would be for the best,” Highnote said, starting to rise.
“I think you wouldn’t find it so.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?” Highnote asked coldly. “From what I understand, McAllister is your close personal friend. Has been for some years now. I would hate to think that you would seriously consider obstructing justice here.”
“I won’t stand for this,” Highnote roared. “My service record is there for anyone to see.”
“Then cooperate with this investigation.”
“To what end? This continues to be an internal matter.”
