they come out of it will be a measure of then strength.”
“You think Tarankov has a chance?”
“Let’s put it this way, my little devochka. He hasn’t one chance in a million of failure. The military is behind him, and so is the FSK.”
Elizabeth looked at her computer screen. “It’ll be worse than before.”
Toivich shrugged. “In that case we’ll deal with the situation just like we’ve dealt with every other crisis. We’ll play catch up.”
“Was it all a wasted effort?” she asked sincerely. There were so many things that she did not understand yet. She wished her father were here at her side to talk to. But he’d go ballistic when he found out his only daughter was working for the Company. She wanted to get into operations training at the Farm first, before she broke the news to him. She wanted him to be proud of her, something her mother never could be.
Toivich’s face darkened. “Don’t ever say that again,” he said harshly. “A lot of good people gave their lives to fight the bastards. And if you don’t understand that, you of all people, then you don’t belong here.”
Elizabeth was instantly contrite, though in a hidden compartment at the back of her head, she wanted to lash back. If we’d done such a hot job defending the faith, then why were there more troops under arms worldwide than at anytime since the Second World War? Why was everything going to hell in Russia? Why had the world become such a dangerous place? Who was kidding whom?
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
“Your daddy would take you over his knee if he heard you talking nonsense like that,” Toivich said. “Have you talked to anybody about this program?”
“Nobody other than you.”
“Well, shut it down for tonight. They want to talk to you upstairs right now.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, her stomach fluttered. “Who wants to see me, and about what?”
“Mr. Ryan’s secretary called, but she didn’t say why,” Toivich said.
Elizabeth’s temper flared, but Toivich held her off before she could blurt out anything.
“Ryan’s problem is with your father, not you. And that’s a subject you’re supposed to know nothing about, so keep your temper in check,” Toivich said. “If he tries to pull anything with you he will be stepped on, I promise you. Nonetheless he’s still Deputy Director of Operations. And if you ever want to get over there you’d better learn something your father never learned. Politics.”
“Bullshit,” Elizabeth said sharply.
“I’m from the old school, Elizabeth, which means I’m not very politically correct. Where I come from young ladies don’t use words like that. Maybe next time I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” He looked indulgently at her. “Would you like me to come up there with you?”
“No thanks, Mr. B. You might be from the old school, but I’m from the new. My dad taught me to fight my own battles.”
“I’ll be here when you’re finished if you want to talk.”
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said. She shut down her program, and took the elevator up to the sixth floor where she was directed by a civilian guard through the glass doors at the end of the corridor.
The Deputy Director of Operations’ secretary, a dowdy old woman, her silver gray hair up in a bun, looked up when Elizabeth came in.
“I’m Elizabeth McGarvey, Mr. Ryan sent for me?” “Yes, dear, just a moment please,” the older woman said, pleasantly. She got up and went into Ryan’s office. A moment later she came back. “You may go in now.”
Elizabeth nodded and as she passed, Ryan’s secretary whispered something to her that sounded like, “His bark is worse than his bite,” and then she was inside.
Howard Ryan and another older, more serious looking man got to ‘their feet, and Ryan came around his desk, a phony smile on his face.
“Ms. McGarvey, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Howard Ryan, Deputy Director of Operations.” They shook hands. “I’d like you to meet my assistant DDO, Tom Moore.”
“Sir,” Elizabeth said, shaking Moore’s hand. His grasp was like Ryan’s, limp and damp. Just like her father had told her.
Ryan motioned for them to have a seat, and he went back behind his desk. “I was absolutely delighted when I learned that we had a second generation McGarvey working for us,” he said. “What made you decide on the Agency as a career? It was your father’s doing I’ll bet. He must be very proud of you.”
“I’ve admired my father for as long as I can remember,” she said, careful to keep her tongue in check.
“Then you and he must have had long talks about his work for us.”
“Only in the most general of terms, Mr. Ryan. He believed very strongly in what he was doing. So do I.”
Ryan chuckled. “I guess we can skip the brainwashing sessions on this one, Tom,” he said to Moore. “She’s already been well indoctrinated.”
“How is your father these days?” Moore asked. “We understand that he’s back in Paris.”
“He’s doing fine,” Elizabeth said. She hadn’t talked to him in more than six months, in part because she didn’t want to let slip about her new job. But in part because she’d all but begged him to stay in the States eighteen months ago after all the air crashes. He’d had something to do with the investigation, she was certain of it, though he’d told her nothing about it. At the time she’d felt vulnerable, and wanted him nearby. When he left she’d been angry.
“Have you talked to him recently?” Ryan asked. “Has he come here to Washington to see you and your mother?”
“No.”
Again Ryan exchanged a look with Moore. “Good heavens, you haven’t had a falling out with your father, have you? That would be terrible. He isn’t upset that you’re working for us is he?” Ryan spread his hands. “I don’t mind telling you, since you’re one of us now, that your father and I have had differences of opinion. Some of that unfortunately came to an ugly head about a year and a half ago. But that in no way negates my sincerest admiration for the man and what he’s done for this agency. For his country. Even the President speaks of him fondly.”
“No, sir, there’s been nothing like that,” Elizabeth said, wondering where he was taking this. “We’re still pals.”
“Still pals,” Ryan said to Moore, who chuckled and looked approvingly at her.
She wanted to ask them if their parents had any children who’d lived, but she bit her tongue. Politics, Mr. B.,called it. Bullshit, she thought.
“Well, we’d like to talk to him, and we thought that you might help us.”
“Call him at his apartment in Paris.”
“We tried,” Moore said. “He’s gone. We thought maybe he’d contacted you in the past few days.”
Elizabeth’s stomach was hollow. Something was going on that had driven her father to ground, and it was important enough for the CIA to resort to this tactic.
“Mr. Ryan, my father did mention your name once or twice over the past few years, but like I said only in the most general of terms. But I know my father well enough, and I’ve worked for the CIA long enough, to understand that something is going on that you need this help for.” Elizabeth tried to read something from their expressions, but she couldn’t. Moore seemed vapid, and Ryan seemed calculating.
“That’s not quite the truth….”
“He’s gone to ground, you want to talk to him, but you can’t find him,” Elizabeth said. “And I suspect even if you did get a message to him there’s a good chance he’d ignore it. Especially if he’s working on something that he considers important.”
“You’re a very astute young woman,” Ryan said after a few moments of silence. “Actually it’s the French SDECE who would like to speak with your father.”
“About what, Mr. Ryan?”
“That’s not relevant to your purposes at the moment.”
“Bullshit,” Elizabeth said, unable to contain herself any longer. “You didn’t call me up here to chat about my health. You want me to find my father for you.”
Ryan closed his eyes. “Christ,” he said half under his breath. When he opened his eyes again his expression and body language were flatly neutral, as if he’d pulled on a new skin. “We want you to tell him that the French
