“Who is trying to kill me and why. It has something to do with your husband’s spying.”
“He’s dead, leave it alone,” she cried.
“There is a very good possibility that you’ll be next,” McAllister said.
“You’re insane.”
“No. But I think we can help each other. You can save my life, and I can protect yours.”
“From whom? Protect me from whom?”
“Whoever ran the network. Whoever it was gave your husband and the others their orders.”
“It was you.”
“No,” McAllister said. “Those are lies. Do you think if I were involved I would have come here like this? What would be the point? I’m just as much in the dark as you say you are. But if I’m right, they won’t stop until I’m dead, and now you’re involved more deeply than you can imagine.”
“Only because you came here.”
“Because of the call on your answering machine.”
“What call?” she shouted wildly. “For all I know you put the message there. Or one of your friends did it.”
“Listen to it, and you tell me.”
A car pulled into the driveway and the O’Haire woman stiffened, her mouth opening to cry out. McAllister pulled out his gun and motioned for her to keep silent. It could be Stephanie, but it also could be someone else.
“Were you expecting someone this evening?” he asked. She was staring at the door. “Yes,” she said woodenly. “Friends. My friends are coming over.” This time she was lying. She turned to him. “leave right now and I won’t say anything. You can get away. I promise.” They heard a car door open and close and someone came into the garage.
The O’Haire woman wanted to cry out, but she was watching the gun in McAllister’s hand.
“David?” Stephanie called out. “In here,” McAllister answered.
Kathleen O’Haire stepped back toward the stove, her hands going to her mouth, her entire body shaking. The kitchen door opened and Stephanie came in, her gun in her hand. She looked from Kathleen O’Haire to McAllister then closed the door. “Are you all right?”
McAllister relaxed and stuffed his gun in his belt. “So far,” he said. “Was there anybody out there?”
Stephanie pocketed her gun. “No, she’s clean. She went to a supermarket a half a dozen blocks from here and came directly back.”
“Could she have called someone from inside?”
“I followed her,” Stephanie said. She picked up the grocery bag Kathleen O’Haire had dropped and put it in the sink. Orange juice was leaking out of the bottom. The O’Haire woman was watching her warily, as she might watch a wild animal.
“We mean you no harm, Mrs. O’Haire,” Stephanie said gently. “Then get out of my house now. Both of you. leave me alone.”
“Someone called this afternoon and left a message for her on the answering machine,” McAllister said. “She hasn’t heard it yet.”
“About us?” Stephanie asked, her eyes bright. “Probably,” McAllister said. “Will you listen to it?” he asked the woman.
She had shrunk back against the stove. “Please leave me now.”
“I’ll set it up,” McAllister said. He went into the living room and advanced the message tape to the end of the fifth call. When he looked up Kathleen O’Haire was perched on the edge of the easy chair, Stephanie right behind her. She was very pale, and she clenched her hands together in her lap. Either she was a very good actress, or she was innocent.
McAllister hit the play button. “Mrs. O’Haire, I would like very much to talk to you as soon as possible. You don’t know me, but I assure you this is of the utmost importance to your safety… especially in view of what has recently happened in Washington and of course in Illinois. Please call me anytime day or night, but very soon. It’s extremely important that we talk. My extension is 273, and the number is 202-456-1414.” The connection was broken and McAllister shut off the machine. “That’s the area code for Washington,” Stephanie said. McAllister nodded. “Who was the man?” he asked the O’Haire woman, but she was shaking her head.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“One of your husband’s friends? Someone who might have called here before?”
“I’ve never heard that voice. I swear to God, I haven’t. You must believe me.”
“I have,” Stephanie said softly. “Or at least I think I have.”
“From where?” McAllister asked.
She shook her head, trying to think it out. “I don’t know, for sure. Somewhere.” She looked up. “How about you?”
“The same. It’s familiar and yet I can’t put my finger on it. But I do know the telephone number.”
“What is it?”
“The White House,” he said, watching for Kathleen O’Haire’s reaction.
But she was merely puzzled. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would someone from the White House be calling me… like that?”
“David,” Stephanie said urgently. “I do know that voice. I remember now.”
“Who is it?”
“I saw him at the Iran-contra hearings last year. He wasn’t a part of that, I don’t think, but he was speaking for the White House. His name is Donald Harman. He’s a special assistant to the President, for God’s sake.”
“Zebra One?” McAllister asked half under his breath. It would explain a lot of things. A man such as Harman would naturally be in a position to know what was going on in the intelligence community. He would be privy to reports from all the agencies; the CIA, the National Security Agency, the FBI, the military intelligence services, the Defense Intelligence Agency… all of them. He would have the confidence of key senators and congressmen on the Hill, the National Security Council, the President’s cabinet and the President himself. His power would be enormous; he would be even more important than the DCI himself.
Stephanie and Kathleen O’Haire were watching him. Everytime Highnote had done something, had made a move on behalf of McAllister and Albright, his report went to the DCI, who in turn included it in his twice-daily intelligence summaries to the President. Harman had evidently been privy to all those reports as well.
How to fight a man so powerfully entrenched as that? This was Philby, only ten thousand times worse.
“What are we going to do?” Stephanie asked. McAllister looked at her. “The only thing we can do,” he said. “She’s going to call him, find out what he wants.”
“No,” Kathleen O’Haire cried, the single word strangled in her throat.
“But why did he call her on an open line, and then hand out his telephone number, David?” Stephanie asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Because he thinks he’s above suspicion. Because he thinks, like we do, that she knows something. That she might have overheard something her husband said, something that might lead back to the network’s control officer.”
“Harman?”
“Either him, or someone he’s protecting.”
“I won’t do it,” the O’Haire woman said. “You can’t make me do it.”
“Is it true?” McAllister asked softly. “Did you hear something? Do you know who your husband’s control officer was?”
“I told you I don’t know anything,” Kathleen O’Haire screeched. “leave me alone! Get out of here!”
McAllister went across the room to her and looked into her eyes. “Don’t you understand what’s happening here, Mrs. O’Haire? Hasn’t it penetrated yet? Your husband and brother-in-law ran a very successful spy ring for years. Whoever they worked for takes his orders from the Russians. From the KGB. What do you think our chances are if that man is Donald Harman, someone in the White House, right next to the President? Or don’t you give a damn?”
“It’s not my fault,” she cried. “They’re dead. It’s done. I don’t know..
“I believe you, McAllister said. “But you’re going to telephone Harman and pretend that you do know
