THIRTY-NINE
SHE MAKES US BLINDLY PLAY HER TERRIBLE GAME, AND WE NEVER SEE BENEATH THE CARDS. FATE. LUCK. CHANCE. DESTINY. VOLTAIRE HAD BELIEVED IN ALL OF THAT, BUT McGARVEY WASN’T SURE THAT HE DID.
From the windows in several upstairs rooms McGarvey checked the front and back areas around the house. It was 7:30 P.M. and already dark.
Lights from the downstairs windows spilled yellow patches on the snow.
Blatnik’s and Grassinger’s people had withdrawn to the highway and behind the house in the woods. The only ones left in the house besides McGarvey were his wife and daughter. A radio played downstairs in the kitchen, but the silence in the house was oppressive. Nothing he could see moved out there, so he went downstairs. At the keypad in the front stair hall he switched off the house alarms. The sensors in the woods behind the house would remain on, but the defensive measures between the house and the highway had been disabled. If Nikolayev was right, the assassin would arrive in the first batch, the assassin’s control officer later. They couldn’t be sure until then.
McGarvey took out his pistol, checked the action and returned it to the holster at the small of his back. The question that had been pressing him all day intruded again. If it came to it, could he pull the trigger on a friend? Presumably the assassin had been brainwashed. He was sick. Shooting him would be like killing a cancer patient when the cure was readily available. Yet the assassin would be dangerous.
Elizabeth came down the hall from the kitchen, rolling down her sweater sleeves. “Almost time?” she asked. Her face was badly bruised.
McGarvey nodded. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy, remember?”
She shrugged. “I’ll live, Dad. Honestly.” She smiled wanly.
“Anyway, I’m becoming quite the domestic. But I was raised by a neat freak, remember?” She glanced up the stairs. “Where’s Mom?” “She’s taking a hot bath. Stenzel left her something to help her get to sleep afterward.” “Good idea,” Elizabeth agreed. Unsaid between them, but understood nevertheless, was that it would be better if Kathleen remained upstairs, out of the way until the issue was resolved. She would be safe. “Are you armed?” McGarvey asked. Elizabeth nodded.
“But I don’t know if I could shoot Dick Adkins, or, God forbid, Otto.”
She was deeply troubled. “How couldn’t we have known, being around them all the time?” “They might not even know themselves,” McGarvey told her. She hadn’t mentioned her own husband’s name, though when McGarvey had told her that he was coming out here tonight with the others she had reacted as if stung. “The ice bucket in the living room is full, I laid out some snacks, and there’s beer and wine in the fridge.” She grinned despite herself. “I even brought some Twinkies for Otto.” “Did you get some cream for him, too?” “Two percent milk.
Somebody’s got to start slowing him down. Louise won’t.” “Jim, are you set up there?” McGarvey spoke into his lapel mic. There was no answer. “Jim?” Elizabeth watched him. He shook his head, so she tried. “Jim, do you copy?” After a moment she shook her head.
“Nothing.” McGarvey called Grassinger’s cell phone. The security chief answered on the first ring.
“Yes.”
“Is your earpiece working?” McGarvey asked.
“I just talked to Tony,” Grassinger said. “Are you having trouble?”
“Liz and I can’t get through.”
“It’s the base unit at the house, Mr. Director. I’ll send someone down to look at it.”
“Are you and Nikolayev in position?”
“Yes.”
“Then sit tight. We’ll use the phone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your people know what to do,” McGarvey said as a statement not a question.
“Yes, sir,” Grassinger replied, and McGarvey could hear an edge of impatience in the man’s voice. He’d been insulted. But it couldn’t be helped. McGarvey needed his people to be sharp.
Nikolayev and Grassinger waited in an Agency SUV parked off the highway. The vehicle’s lights were off, and they were well hidden in the trees and brush. From their position they could see a couple of hundred feet of highway and the first fifty feet of the driveway. But sitting in the car was uncomfortable because it rested at an uneven angle to the left. Nikolayev didn’t complain. His life had taught him to endure. “Will it be somebody you know?” Grassinger asked. He was behind the wheel. Nikolayev was in the passenger seat at an angle above him. “Everyone I know is too old for this sort of thing,” the Russian replied mildly. He had night-vision binoculars, which he raised to his eyes. “Rencke gave me a list of names and photographs, but there are blanks, you know.” “What good is waiting out here, then?
What are we supposed to do?” Nikolayev lowered the binoculars and gave Grassinger a hard stare. “You can only hope to protect them in hiding for so long. So we do this tonight to end the waiting.” He glanced toward the highway. “In the first arrivals, anyone who shows up who has not been invited will probably be our man,” he explained. “After that, after everyone is here, we wait. Whoever comes next will be the control officer. We will have to match that person to someone already in the house and warn McGarvey.” “Whoever comes in from the woods behind the house will be our man,” Grassinger suggested. “Let’s not forget that avenue.” “They won’t come that way,” Nikolayev disagreed.
He raised the bin oculars again as headlights flashed on the highway.
Moments later a dark-colored Ford Taurus station wagon slowed and turned onto the driveway. “Adkins,” he said. “Number one.”
Grassinger called McGarvey. “Adkins is coming your way.”
“Right,” McGarvey replied, and broke the connection.
McGarvey met Adkins at the front door as his DDCI came across the broad porch with a look that was a study in contrasts between despair and eagerness. “Thanks for coming out tonight,” McGarvey said. “The timing couldn’t have been worse for you. I’m sorry.” “Duty calls,”
Adkins offered. “I couldn’t stay there. At the house. It’s crazy with all the relatives in from out of town. Not what Ruth would have wanted.” Elizabeth had put a fresh log on the fire in the living room.
As McGarvey helped Adkins off with his coat she came out. “Hello, Dick,” she said. She offered her cheek for a kiss. “You have Todd’s and my condolences for Ruth. It was terrible. I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me.” “Thanks, Elizabeth. I appreciate your concern.
I really do. Especially right now when you’re recovering from your own accident.” Adkins’s lips compressed. “Ruth would have said that better than I did.” She touched his arm. “It doesn’t matter how it’s said.” “Are you armed?” McGarvey asked. Adkins’s mouth opened. He looked from McGarvey to Elizabeth and back. He nodded. “Considering what’s been going on, yes, I’m carrying a weapon.” “You’d better give it to me. I’ll put it in the closet with your coat.” Adkins complied, handing his 9mm Beretta to McGarvey. “I don’t usually carry a gun, you know,” he apologized. McGarvey put it in the closet, and they moved into the living room, where Elizabeth poured Adkins and her father a brandy. She got herself a Perrier with a twist. Adkins stood with his back to the fireplace as if he was trying to get warm. But a thin sheen of perspiration covered his forehead. He wore an old burgundy sweater and jeans. His eyes darted from McGarvey to Elizabeth. He was waiting for something. Expecting to be told something. And he was nervous about it. His attitude and dress made him appear boyish.
“What’s this all about, anyway, Mac?” he asked. He glanced toward the hall. “And where’s Kathleen tonight? She’s okay now, isn’t she?”
“She’s fine, Dick. She’s upstairs. I’ve called a few people to come out tonight because I have something to tell everybody.” “Any hints for your number two? Maybe I could offer a suggestion or two.” “We’ll wait for the others,” McGarvey said. The cell phone rang out on the hall table, where he’d left it. “Excuse me.” “Do you want some ice, Dick?” Elizabeth asked. The call was from Grassinger. “Your son-in-law is on his way.” “Thank you.” “Wait,” Grassinger said.
