After an early dinner of pizza and beer, Dan Green and Pete wanted to continue with the debriefing, but McGarvey refused. They’d gotten to the part when a North Korean intelligence officer had shown up at McGarvey’s home in Casey Key, and Mac’s decision to help. The going was slow because they’d wanted every detail: the time of day, what everyone was wearing, what, if anything, Mac’s wife had overheard, or what he had told her, the make and model of the North Korean’s car — presumably a rental — and its tag numbers, even its general condition.
“No dents, or scuffs, or perhaps mud around the wheel wells?” Green had nitpicked. “We just want to get a sense of this colonel’s fastidiousness, his attention to details, if you will. Little lapses like those might translate into what sort of an officer he was: sloppy or neat, a dreamer or an itemizer.”
“Paranoid or assured,” Pete added.
“Later,” McGarvey told them. “I want to call the Farm.”
“We’ll be at it until late tonight,” Green said a little crossly. They were in their element doing this sort of thing, and they had just hit their stride and didn’t want to quit.
“Whatever. But first I’ll have a word with my wife and daughter. I want to find out how they’re doing.”
Pete shrugged. “We have a lot of ground still to cover,” she said. She took a cell phone out of her jeans, handed it to McGarvey and motioned for Green to leave the kitchen with her. “We’ll give Mr. McGarvey his privacy.”
“It’s on record in any event,” McGarvey said, and he dialed his daughter’s number in her private quarters as his debriefers left.
Liz answered after three rings, and she sounded all out of breath, as if she had been crying all afternoon, which she probably had been. “Yes.”
“Hi, sweetheart, it’s me. How are you and your mother doing?”
“I think it’s just starting to sink in,” she said. “But it’s so unreal. I even thought that maybe you were Todd finally calling, and I was all set to be pissed off at him for being late and not letting me know.” She hesitated. “I was worried.”
“I know. I feel almost the same thing.”
The kitchen was modern, with new appliances and bright wallpaper, homey, a place that was meant to seem comfortable. No threats here. Just friends in a pleasant situation talking about old times. No need for secrets. And it was true, he almost expected Todd to be coming through the front door to find out what the hell all the fuss was about.
“How are you doing, Daddy? Any progress?”
“Some, but it’s still early going,” McGarvey said. “I’m beginning to put a few things into place.”
“Anything you can talk about?”
“We’re being monitored.”
“Of course,” Liz said after a brief hesitation, and McGarvey could see the field officer in his daughter kicking in, checking all the angles, looking in all the corners, considering all the possibilities.
“How’s Audie?”
“She was a little fussy earlier, but she’s in bed—” Liz stopped short. “Mom’s right here. We’re outside having a cup of tea. I’ll put her on.”
A moment later Katy came on, her voice nearly unrecognizable. “Kirk?” she said. “Can you come get us?”
“Not tonight. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Katy hesitated. “Oh, at Arlington.”
“Yes. And afterward I’ll take you home.”
“I’ll stay here until you’re done. You’re not finished yet, are you?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll stay here,” Katy said. “I think I hear the baby crying. I’m putting Elizabeth back on.”
Liz came back. “Mother’s staying here for the time being, but I don’t know how much help I can be for you.”
“Stay with your mother, and tomorrow — I know it’ll be almost impossible — keep your eyes open. And whatever you do, don’t make a move without your minders.”
“I understand.”
“Try to get some sleep, sweetheart,” McGarvey said.
“I’ll try,” Liz said and she was gone, leaving McGarvey holding for a long time before he pushed the end button and laid the phone down on the dining room table.
A minute later his interrogators came in, Pete apologetic, Dan Green a little angry.
“We didn’t listen in, Mr. Director,” Pete said. “On that you have my word.”
“It doesn’t matter,” McGarvey said, suddenly more than tired; he was weary, mentally as well as physically. And tomorrow loomed large in his mind, because he would not be able to do anything until after his son-in-law had been buried. What made tomorrow even worse for him was the thought of leaving Katy and Liz again, just as he had done for more than twenty years.
“Can we get you anything else before we pick up where we left off. The North Korean intelligence officer come for a chat with you.”
“No,” McGarvey said, getting up. “We’re done for the night. I’m tired.”
“The hell we are,” Green said. “You have a lot to answer for.”
“Yes, I do,” McGarvey said and he turned to leave when Green started to step in front of him.
“Leave it, Dan,” Pete cautioned. “We’re all tired.”
Green stepped aside but said nothing.
“You’ll continue to cooperate this evening, Mr. Director?” she asked. “Can we have your word on it?”
“Yes, for tonight,” McGarvey said.
“What about tomorrow?”
“That’ll depend.”
“You’re charged with treason,” Green said angrily, and McGarvey got the impression that the man’s anger wasn’t real, it was a part of his and Pete’s dog and pony show.
“If that were the case, they would have put me someplace a hell of a lot more secure than here, don’t you think?” he said.
He walked out into the stair hall and Pete came to the door. “How did Sandberger react when you showed up?” she asked.
“He wasn’t happy,” McGarvey said.
“I would have given anything to have been a little bird in the corner,” Pete admitted. “We’ll be with you tomorrow.”
“Who else?”
“Federal marshals in the car with you and nearby. Just in case Todd’s assassination wasn’t a random act.”
TWENTY-ONE
First thing in the morning Kangas and Mustapha parked their untraceable Buick LeSabre near the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington National Cemetery, and walked a quarter of a mile back down the hill in the general direction of the South Gate, crossing Porter, Miles, and then Grant drives. A few people were out and about, but not many; a hush seemed to hang over the place.
Neither man had ever wanted to be buried here, even though they’d been career government employees, because neither of them saw themselves dying in service of their country. It was an old line from Patton, something like: Let the other son of a bitch die for his country. They considered themselves to be too professional to be killed because of stupidity.
“Nice day for a funeral,” Mustapha said.
“For someone else,” Kangas replied, and he laughed.
