McGarvey stared out the windows at the deepening gloom as he finished his coffee. Then he went next door to his DDCI’s office. Adkins, in shirtsleeves, was just sitting down at his desk as the outer door from his office closed. “Who was that?” McGarvey asked. Adkins looked up, startled. “Oh, hello, Mac. Elizabeth got back okay?” McGarvey nodded. “She’s going to spend the night in the hospital. We’ll see tomorrow. But it’s good to have her back.” He glanced at the door.
“That was Bob Johnson, he had a final report on Otto’s accident.
Somebody did tamper with the wheel bearing. Curious though, whoever did it wasn’t a mechanic. They just jacked up the car, took the wheel off and dug around in the wheel bearing well with a screwdriver, or something.” “So it could have been Otto himself.” Adkins nodded glumly. “But whoever did it wasn’t trying to fix anything. They were trying to sabotage the wheel so that it would come off.” “I was told that Ruth’s back in the hospital. What happened, Dick?” “She had another relapse,” Adkins said, looking down at his hands. “This time she was puking up a lot of blood. But there are no bleeders. Nothing they can fix.” “Ulcers-” “She’s riddled with cancer. It’s everywhere in her body. She’s disintegrating from the inside out.” McGarvey was disturbed. “I can’t believe that you came in today. Get the hell out of here. You need to be with your family.”
“The girls arrived last night, they’re with their mother.” He shook his head again. “There’s nothing I can do for her that makes any sense. She’s in intensive care, and ”
“And nothing, Dick.” McGarvey softened his tone. “I mean it, you have to get back to the hospital, if for no other reason than your daughters.” “They don’t want me.”
“Bullshit, and you know it. I’m placing you on sick leave right now.
Dave Whittaker can help take up the slack for the time being.”
Adkins’s mood, which seemed terribly matter-of-fact, did not match the situation. It was denial. This wasn’t happening to him. By throwing himself into work he could forget for a few hours what was really going on around him. And yet there was something else. Another layer of meaning in Adkins’s gestures and words. As if he were hiding something so terrible that he had to watch his every movement lest he give himself away. “I’m ordering you out of here,” McGarvey said. He gestured to the pile of folders on the desk. “Are those the NIE and Watch Report?” Adkins nodded. “Give them to me, then put on your coat, tell your secretary that you’ll be gone until further notice, get in your car and drive over to the hospital.” Adkins reluctantly handed the thick file folders to McGarvey. “There’ve been no substantive developments in the past five days.” “Call me when you can. Let me know what’s happening,” McGarvey said. “Tell Ruth that… we’re thinking of her.” McGarvey went to the door. “I hate to leave like this, Mac.” “I know,” McGarvey said, and he walked back into his own office. He sat down at his desk and forced himself to flip through the reports. No matter what else happened to them individually, the business of the world and therefore the CIA, continued. Adkins came to the door a few minutes later, his coat on. “I’m gone then,” he said.
“If you need us, we’re here for you, Dick,” McGarvey said. Adkins nodded. “I know,” he said. “Good luck.” He turned and walked out.
McGarvey was about to call after him, to tell him that no matter how long it took he would be welcomed back with open arms, when his secretary buzzed. “What is it?” “It hasn’t been a half hour, but Fred Rudolph is on one for you. Do you want to take it, or should I ask him to call back?”
“I’ll take it,” McGarvey said. He punched one. “Fred, what do you have for me?” “We’re having no luck tracking down Nikolayev in France, and now Dmitri Runkov has disappeared.” “What are you talking about, disappeared? Did he return to Moscow?” “Not on any flight out of Washington or New York,” the FBI supervisor said. “He’s apparently not at home, and he’s not available at the embassy.” “What about his family? Are they still in Washington?” “His wife and kids are at the house, living like they normally have. Grocery store, the dry cleaners, the bank, gas station, liquor store, little league hockey.
But no Dmitri.” “Has this happened before? Has he disappeared like this, I mean?” “He’s played games with us, but never like this. Never for so long. Hours usually, never days.” Mysteries within mysteries.
Nothing was as it seemed to be. The one idea that would solidify everything danced at the edges of McGarvey’s understanding. It was as if he were being teased by some truth, some sudden insight that would make everything clear to him. “If he hasn’t managed to slip out of the country under our noses, then it means he’s gone to ground for some reason,” Rudolph suggested. “That doesn’t make him guilty of anything,” McGarvey countered, working it out. “Maybe he’s just a cautious man.” “You might be right, Mac. But if that’s the case, if he’s just ducked into the nearest bunker, it means that he’s expecting an explosion. Soon.” “It would seem so,” McGarvey said. “Dmitri knows something that we don’t.” “We’ll keep trying to dig him out,” Rudolph promised. “In the meantime, maybe you should take his example and keep your head down, too.” “The thought has occurred to me,” McGarvey said.
“Keep in touch.” “You too.” McGarvey had Ms. Swanfeld call the White House. They got Anthony Lang, the President’s chief of staff.
“He’s on an extremely tight schedule today, Mr. Director,” Lang told McGarvey. “I need a minute of his time,” McGarvey insisted, “He’ll call you from Ottawa. His helicopter is here ” Lang was interrupted.
“Just a minute.” The President came on. “You’ve certainly put a burr under Hammond’s saddle. If he could arrange for a firing squad, you’d be against the wall before sundown.” “He has an inside source here at the Agency,” McGarvey told the President. “When we run him down, I’m going to nail Hammond publicly.” “Not such a good idea,” the President disagreed. “You and I are in a tough spot right now. I have a vote on my armed forces modernization bill coming up that Hammond and Madden are going to pull out all the stops to oppose. And some nut with a grudge is out there gunning for you and your family. “Now, I’m not willing to kiss Hammond’s ass, just like you’re not going to surround yourself with the National Guard. When you find your leak, you can hang him or her. They’ll deserve it. But not publicly. We’re going to give Hammond that round. In return he’s going to give us your nomination, and he’s going to roll over and play at least neutral if not dead on my bill. It’s two for one. Not a bad return.” “Until the next time ”
“Tom Hammond is an elected representative of the people.
He’s not going away anytime soon, and I wouldn’t want him to. He serves a very useful purpose. He’s part of the system, and we’ll live with him. In the meantime, give me what I want, and Hammond will give us what we want, which should clear the way for you to find out who’s after you.” “No further hearings.” “Not until you’re in the clear.”
McGarvey could hear the deal maker in the President. Haynes was famous for it. Someone trying to harm the director of the Central Intelligence Agency was a big deal. But not as big a deal as arms limitation talks, or world trade agreements, or terrorist attacks in Washington and New York. Every event had its own perspective against the backdrop of the world’s problems. One man, even one as important as a DCI, could not swing the balance of millions of lives in jeopardy.
It was a fact of life. Reality. “Have a good trip, Mr. President,”
McGarvey said. “You’ll find out what’s happening. You always do,” the President said. “But stay safe.” Lawrence Haynes was the most popular president since Reagan because he was an honorable man with a squeaky clean past and a picture-perfect wife and daughter whom the American public had adopted from the beginning of his campaign in New Hampshire.
But he had retained his popularity because he kept his administration simple. Simplicity had become the White House watchword. The most complex and perplexing problems were broken into their constituent parts, each much simpler and easier to deal with than the whole. His staff found the new way of thinking a breeze. And so did the public.
McGarvey got up and went to the windows that looked over the Virginia countryside toward the Potomac River. Snow was falling in delicate, almost weightless flakes. The whispering nagging was there at the back of his head, but he was beginning to understand the why of someone coming after him, and he felt that Nikolayev might have the answers to the how. It was something psychological. Keep it simple. Always simple. When he had the answers to the first two elements the why and the how he would have two legs of an isosceles triangle, and the third would be a fait accompli.
THIRTY
