single digits, unusual for Washington.
Yemm, riding shotgun in the front seat, issued a steady stream of orders and instructions on the encrypted radio link with headquarters to make sure that there were no holes in the security arrangements.
He’d spent a good deal of time on the radio aboard the Gulfstream setting up their arrival. Washington seemed like a strange, alien place to McGarvey now. He felt like a boxer who was backed against the ropes. He had the necessary skills to defend himself, but he didn’t have the room, not with Kathleen and Elizabeth and the baby to worry about. But he had turned some kind of a corner. He no longer wanted to run. He wanted to stay and meet the enemy head-on; in fact, he looked forward to it. Yet there was the same nagging, scratchy feeling at the back of his head, warning him that this time the situation was different. This was something that he’d never faced before. The downstairs lights were on when they pulled into the driveway. Security had gone over the house and grounds, including all eighteen holes of the golf course, with infrared and electronics emissions equipment.
Motion detectors had been installed, and rapid response monitors had been placed in every room of the house. If anything, no matter how slight, seemed to be out of the ordinary, night or day, a rapid response team would be on-site within minutes. Noises, power surges, unexplained heat or electronic sources, even airborne chemical odors of explosives would trigger the devices. Yemm got out first and spoke with the watch commander parked in a van at the end of the driveway, then went up to the house. The front door opened as he reached the porch, and a young woman in blue jeans and a GO NAVY sweatshirt was standing there. Yemm said something to her, then came back to the limo. “We’ve arranged for you to have a couple of houseguests,” he told McGarvey. “They’ll act as internal security, and they’ll help with the cooking and housework until we get through this.” Kathleen was an intensely private person, and McGarvey didn’t know how she was going to react. But it would be useless to argue because Yemm was right. This was part and parcel of being DCI. He didn’t think that a lot of DCIs before him much cared for the lack of privacy either. But the help would be welcome. There was no possible way that a housekeeper was going to be vetted before the situation was resolved. And Kathleen was not up to keeping the house running. Not now. She was indifferent toward the two Office of Security agents, both women about Elizabeth’s age. They introduced themselves as Peggy Vaccaro and Janis Westlake.
Vaccaro was short, voluptuous and homely, but she had an incandescent smile. Westlake was tall, thin and boyishly attractive. They seemed competent and sympathetic.
They gave McGarvey a reassuring smile and took Kathleen in hand, clucking and cooing over her as they led her upstairs for a nice soak, a cup of tea and fresh sheets on the bed.
Yemm had an earpiece comms unit that picked up his voice from the vibrations in his jawbone. He was speaking softly as he followed McGarvey into the study.
“Security would like to know if you’ll make your scheduled appearance on the Hill tomorrow morning.”
McGarvey shook his head. “Not tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday. They can put out the word that we’re handling the India-Pakistan problem.”
Yemm relayed the instructions as McGarvey poured a couple of brandies.
The workmen had finished over the weekend, and the soft woods of the desk, bookcases and manuscript cabinet gleamed in the soft light from the front hall. McGarvey handed one of the brandies to Yemm. They drank in silence; watching each other for the effects of what they’d gone through on the island.
“That one was close, Dick,” McGarvey said after a long moment.
Yemm nodded. “Mrs. M. saved our lives.” He looked at his drink.
“They’re not going to give up.”
“No, sir, not even if you withdraw your nomination,” Yemm agreed.
“Somebody wants you.”
“Somebody on the inside,” McGarvey said, fully aware of where such an idea would take him. When you start suspecting your own people, you might as well give up the fight from the git-go. Jim Angleton had finally figured that out; after practically emasculating the CIA with his paranoia. “Somebody who knew about the VI trip.”
This time around the list was way too short for comfort. And giving up wasn’t an option, if it had ever been.
McGarvey got a couple hours of troubled sleep on the couch in the den, while Yemm, a pistol in his lap, dozed in a chair across the room. They couldn’t settle down. The andrenaline from the near miss was still pumping.
McGarvey opened his eyes when Peggy Vaccaro touched his shoulder.
Somebody had thrown a blanket over him. Light streamed in the windows; the morning sky was a brilliant blue.
“Mr. Director, it’s eight o’clock, and Dr. Stenzel is here.” He shoved the blanket aside and sat up. Peggy Vaccaro handed him a cup of coffee. “Is my wife awake yet?” “Yes, sir. The doctor would like to have a word with you before he goes up to see her.” “Where is he?”
“In your study.” “Where’s Dick?” “He couldn’t sleep. He’s in the kitchen making breakfast. Oh, and we’ve laid out some clothes and your shower things in the spare bedroom upstairs. Actually it was Mrs.
M.“s idea. She’s worried about you.” I’ll go up and see her-” “No, sir. Mrs. M. asked if we would take care of you until she’s seen the doctor.” McGarvey mustered a smile and nodded. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had several women fussing over me at the same time.” Peggy Vaccaro lit up like a sunrise. “Our pleasure, Mr. Director.”
McGarvey took his coffee across to his study, where Dr. Stenzel, dressed in corduroys, a battered bulky knit sweater and a scarf around his neck, was studying the spines of the books on the shelves. “Thanks for coming out on a Sunday,” McGarvey said. “Coffee?” Stenzel turned and gave McGarvey a critical once-over. He shook his head. “No. Is someone making a run on the Agency?” “Otto was an accident, I’m the target,” he told the psychiatrist. “But my wife isn’t holding up very well.” “I know. I talked to the navy doctors in San Juan this morning. They faxed me their preliminaries, and frankly I’m just as surprised as they are that your wife didn’t suffer a total nervous breakdown. She must be a remarkably strong woman.” “That she is.”
Stenzel held his silence for a few moments. “I may have to hospitalize her.” McGarvey was afraid of this. But he was resigned. “Whatever it takes. But give us a little lead time, would you. We have some security considerations.” Stenzel nodded. “I understand.” “She’s had some difficult times because of my job.” “I’ll bet she has,” the Company psychiatrist said. “Does she want you to quit?”
McGarvey shook his head. “No. At least I don’t think she does.”
Stenzel smiled reassuringly. “I’ll go up and talk to her now. We’ll decide what to do afterward.” One of the girls took the doctor up to see Kathleen. McGarvey checked with Yemm in the kitchen, refilled his coffee cup and went up to the spare bedroom, where he showered, shaved and dressed in the slacks, sweater and tweed sport coat laid out for him. The assassins had made a big mistake by trying but missing. If there was a next time, and he suspected there would be, he would nail them. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d been down this path before, a lot of times in his twenty-five-year career. He knew the moves and counter moves the feelings, the impatience, the anxiousness and sometimes the fear. And his family had been involved before too. This time he was sticking it out. He would make his stand here on his home ground. He wasn’t going to run in an attempt to lead them away. But now that he had what he really wanted, now that he was exactly where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to be doing, and loving and being loved by the woman he’d always admired, he was truly afraid of losing it all. The muscles in his jaw tightened. One last fight. One last confrontation. One last time. God help the bastards when he caught up with them. Stenzel was already finished when McGarvey went downstairs. He was in the kitchen with Yemm. “How is she?” McGarvey asked. “Better,” Stenzel said. He seemed perplexed.
“But she’s at her limit, I can tell you that much. If something else happens, I think she’ll break.” McGarvey glanced at Yemm, who pursed his lips. The fight was just starting. Stenzel caught the exchange.
“Either send her away or keep her isolated. I’m telling you that her brain is working overtime right now. Probably has been for a while.
And from what I can gather, reading all the reports from San Juan and talking to her just now, the helicopter explosion was a damned close thing.” “She saved our lives,” McGarvey said. He explained what had happened on the island. “She probably noticed something, maybe even smelled something wrong,” Stenzel said. He shook his head. “We used to call it women’s in tuition. But that’s nothing more than a heightened sense of awareness. Her mind, as I said, is working super fast “She won’t leave,” McGarvey said. “And trying to keep her isolated might be impossible.” He was trying to work out the logistics of keeping Katy safe. But sending her away would not work. It’d be nothing more than another form of his own running away. “Nevertheless, it’ll have to be done,” Stenzel insisted.
