together.”
“Maybe in a time machine?” McGarvey suggested.
She smiled and reached for her husband’s hand. “Only if I could take Todd with me.”
Peggy Vaccaro was sitting across from a sleeping Kathleen in the darkened hospital room when McGarvey and Elizabeth showed up. Otto and Yemm went to the waiting room. Todd went downstairs to speak with Dr.
Mattice, who was on his way over on McGarvey’s call to see about admitting Elizabeth at least overnight. “Good heavens, Liz, we were all so worried about you,” Peggy Vaccaro said in a soft voice, getting up. They hugged lightly. “How are you?” “I’ve been better,” Elizabeth said. “How’s my mother?” “A lot better.” Vaccaro looked over at McGarvey. “Dr. Love was in again this morning, and they did another test downstairs. An EKG, I think, and something else. We didn’t know exactly what time Liz was coming in, and the doctor wanted Mrs. M. to get some rest, so he gave her a light sedative.” “Did he say anything about her condition?” Elizabeth asked. Peggy Vaccaro smiled. “That’s the good news. She’s going to be okay.” Again she looked at McGarvey.
“She can go home tomorrow morning at the latest, Mr. Director. That’s really good news.” “Yes, it is,” McGarvey agreed. He watched the play of emotions across his daughter’s face. When he and Katy separated, Elizabeth had blamed herself for the divorce. She felt as if she hadn’t been a good enough daughter to keep them together. It was because of her that her parents no longer wanted to live together. The same expression of guilt creased her face now with lines of worry and doubt. It was because of her that her mother was here like this.
Elizabeth brushed a wisp of her mother’s hair off her forehead, then bent down and kissed her cheek. “She’s going to be really happy to see you,” Peggy Vaccaro said. “I’m not going anywhere, Peg,” Elizabeth said. She turned to her father. “I’ll stay here with Mom until she wakes up. Take Otto back to work.” “I’ll leave Todd here,” McGarvey said. “Yeah,” Elizabeth replied absently. She looked at her mother.
“He and I have some things to work out.”
McGarvey’s heart went out to his daughter. He wanted to cradle her in his arms for the rest of her life, to protect her from the demons and gremlins. But he couldn’t do it. Leastways not like that. “It’ll be okay, baby.” “I know it will, Daddy, because we’ll make it so.” She looked at him. She was crying again. “You’ll make it so.”
TWENTY-NINE
IT WAS AS IF HE WERE BEING TEASED BY SOME TRUTH, SOME SUDDEN INSIGHT THAT WOULD MAKE EVERYTHING CLEAR TO HIM.
McGarvey rode alone in the backseat out to Langley, Otto once again up front with Yemm, content to be alone for a little while with his thoughts. Idly he watched the traffic. In a way Washington was like Los Angeles. People were on the go, moving, always in a hurry. Nothing stayed the same. Everything was in a constant state of change.
Focusing on any one thing or person for very long was more difficult than ever. Cell phones and the Internet had not isolated people as many critics had predicted. The new technologies brought people together. But only superficially. These days you were far less likely to talk to a neighbor three houses away than you were to an anonymous chat room personality halfway around the world. And now there was terrorism. It was an issue of trust. McGarvey understood the concept at the gut level. But it was a forgotten muscle in his body, a gene that somehow had not been switched on at birth. And the harder he tried to trust people, the more he wanted it, the more he wanted to rely on someone, to go back-to-back with them for protection against the world, the more difficult it became. After Santiago he had run to Switzerland to lick his wounds. It was the most neutral place on earth that he could think of. The CIA had abandoned him, the Senate over site committee, one of whose key members was Darby Yarnell, had thrown him to the wolves, and even Katy had given him an ultimatum: “Me or the CIA.” So he had bailed out. The Swiss Federal Police knew who he was, of course, and his presence in Lausanne made them nervous. Not enough to kick him out of the country, but enough to send three cops to watch over him. One was Dortmund Fiielm, who became his partner in a bookstore. The second was a young woman who passed herself off as Fiielm’s daughter. She kept trying to get McGarvey to sleep with her.
And the third was Marta Fredricks, who shared his apartment, his bed and his life until the end, when he was recalled to Washington. She had fallen in love with him, and their parting had been difficult for both of them. “But I love you, Kirk. Doesn’t that mean something to you?” McGarvey lowered his head. Marta said that to him the day he walked out on her in Lausanne. And she said it to him again in Paris, where she had come looking for him. He rejected her both times because he was not able to trust her, not even a little. The first time her heart had been broken, and the second time in Paris, when he had sent her away, she was killed in the crash of a Swissair flight. He could never forget her last words, or the look on her face. They crossed the river and went down the Parkway to the CIA. The afternoon was clouding over. It looked like snow again. They were passed through the gate, and Yemm pulled up at the executive entrance. McGarvey let himself out and went inside. Otto and Yemm came right behind him. “I’ve got work to do,” Otto mumbled, and, head down, he hurried off to the computer center. “Are you going to need me, boss?” Yemm asked. “No.” Yemm hesitated just a moment. “Liz is going to be okay, and so is Mrs. M.
now that we know what’s going on.” McGarvey looked at his bodyguard curiously. “What’s going on?” “Somebody’s after you, and they’re not above going after your family to get to you.” Yemm shrugged pragmatically. “Except for the chopper pilot on Hans Lollick, nobody’s been killed.”
Scratching, nagging, worrying at the back of his head. He wanted to run. “Except for the baby,” McGarvey said, and he took the elevator upstairs leaving Dick Yemm standing flat-footed in the corridor. Ms.
Swanfeld was waiting for him when he barged through the outer office and into his office. She took his coat, hung it up, then got him a cup of coffee, into which she poured a healthy measure of brandy. “I thought that you could use this,” she said, setting it down on the desk. He smiled tiredly. “The boss isn’t supposed to be a drunk.”
She smiled faintly. “President Lincoln had the same problem with Grant.” “I wish it was that simple,” he said. “What’s on the schedule?” “You’re supposed to be on the Hill at two.” “Not today.”
“Very well. Mr. Paterson thought that might be the case. He would like a few minutes of your time this afternoon.” “Whenever he’s free.”
“Barry Willis of the New York Times is coming at five-thirty for a backgrounder on the Havana incident. But I suspect that he will actually ask you questions about the Virgin Islands.” “Reschedule him for sometime next week.” “Yes, sir,” she said. “In that case, except for Mr. Paterson, you are free for the remainder of the day.” “I want a staff meeting at five. I’d like to see the preliminary NIE and Watch Reports. I’d like to speak with Fred Rudolph at some point, and then the President.” McGarvey glanced at the door to Adkins’s office. “Is Dick here this afternoon?” “Yes, sir. But he had a terrible night of it. Mrs. Adkins is back in the hospital.” McGarvey felt terrible for him. “I’ve tried to force him to take a leave of absence. But he won’t do it.” “Neither would you, Mr. Director,” Ms. Swanfeld countered sternly. “But I’m-” “Indispensable?” she asked. He was going to say under fire, but he just shook his head. “Point well taken.” “How is Elizabeth?” “She won’t let go of the teddy bear. She says to tell everybody thanks.” Ms. Swanfeld smiled warmly.
“She’s black-and-blue, and her back hurts, but she wanted to come back to work this afternoon.”
“Good heavens. Pardon me, sir, but you are not going to allow that child to resume her duties this soon, are you?”
“No, they’re keeping her overnight at the hospital, and she’ll be out on sick leave for at least a week. Maybe longer. My wife will be returning home, probably tomorrow morning. I’ll see if I can’t convince Elizabeth to come home to help out. Her mother could use her.”
“Indeed,” Ms. Swanfeld said. Her manner brightened, as if a burden had been lifted. “I’ll go make your calls.”
“Give me a half hour.”
“Yes, Mr. Director.” Ms. Swanfeld went to the door. “I’m glad Elizabeth is back safe and sound.”
“So am I.”
