MRS. Nancy Sikes didn't know whether to worry or not. Her husband, Charlie, had gone off the night before with two policemen and still wasn't home. Surely there hadn't been an accident or anything. She would have been informed. Maybe they had some news about Archie. She left the kitchen and went to the front window for the tenth time that morning. On this occasion she was rewarded with the sight of a police car pulling up to the curb. Charlie got out of the back and walked toward the house. It was easy to see he was dead tired.
She ran to the door and jerked it open. 'Charlie! Wot's been going on then?'
He came in and hung up his cap and jacket. When he turned toward her, she could see his bloodshot eyes and the paleness of his face. He shook his head slowly. 'Oh, Nancy! Them coppers been giving me bluddy hell all night. Two of them Wog lads at the warehouse was arrested for a bomb plot. They figured I was in on it because o' Archie. I had a god-awful time convincing 'em I didn't know nothing about it.'
'Oh, poor Charlie,' Nancy said. 'Come out to the kitchen, love. I'll make you a nice cup o' tea.'
He followed her, saying, 'I thought they might have some news about the lad, but all they told me was that he was a terrorist or something.'
Mrs. Sikes went to the stove to put on a pot as Mr. Sikes sat down. He sighed audibly. 'I better call work and tell 'em why I ain't in yet.'
'Well, you tell 'em why,' Mrs. Sikes said. 'It wasn't your fault, Charlie.'
'They know about Archie deserting, Nancy, and some o' the blokes has been making remarks about it. This is probably the excuse they've been looking for to give me the bluddy sack.'
'The union won't let 'em do that, Charlie.'
'The union ain't exactly sympathetic toward me,' Mr. Sikes said. He suddenly slammed his hand down hard on the table. 'Goddamn it! That boy of ours has got us into some deep shit!'
Mrs. Sikes stifled a sob, then recovered and wiped her eyes. 'The tea will be ready in a minute, love.'
CHAPTER 20
CUSTIS FARM, VIRGINIA
THE facility, made up of three hundred acres of U. S. government property, was not a working agricultural site, although the people who used it referred to it as 'the Farm.' It was far off the beaten track, surrounded by deep sections of forest and bog, and kept under rigid security. A narrow dirt lane that wound ten miles off the main county road was the only way to reach it overland. The likelihood of some wandering stranger blundering onto the property was not probable but possible. Therefore, to discourage any exploration by the curious, the two creeks on the acreage were not bridged. Although the water was no more than a couple of feet deep, it was enough to keep anyone from wanting to venture farther in their automobile or truck. And just in case some weekend adventurer with his off-road vehicle showed up, roving teams of guards who appeared to be rather tough-looking farmers provided further dissuasion. These individuals were part of a large staff that performed security and service functions for the Farm. They were rotated every two weeks from the isolated assignment.
Persons who used it for official functions preferred to come by air, utilizing either the helicopter pad or a short airstrip in the center of the bucolic estate. The Farm's main building was a one-story, split-level rambling ranch house that seemed completely out of place. It appeared as if belonged more in a California suburb than the environment of rural Virginia.
Undersecretary of State Carl Joplin, PhD, was the only government official who maintained a permanent office in the place. His boss, Secretary of State Benjamin Bellingham, had not been assigned any space within the large house, nor had he ever been to the Farm, though he was aware of its existence. Like all other people who held his office, Bellingham's tenure in the nation's capital was not a permanent arrangement. He worked for a specific president and would be around only as long as his sponsor was in office. Joplin, on the other hand, had nothing to do with political appointments, and he had visited Custis Farm dozens of times during his career. He used it for meetings and discussions with unique persons who, for the most part, enjoyed extremely friendly and intimate working relationships with the U. S. government. A good number of defectors had enjoyed sanctuary on the Farm as they were debriefed and interviewed. When those processes were taken care of, the majority were given new identities and provided with official federal law enforcement protection.
On the other hand, there had also been a few special antagonists whose conduct or activities made it necessary that they be dealt in the most clandestine ways. Several of the latter ilk had never been seen again. They were the ones who were taken care of by those 'farmhands' who had a sinister, sleepy-eyed look about them.
.
10 SEPTEMBER
CARL Joplin and his guest, Avigdor Peled, from the Israeli Embassy, had arrived at Custis Farm in an unmarked government helicopter. Circumstances made it impossible for them to use the Bonhomme Richard Club. The business to be conducted by the two men was much too complicated for a quick meeting.
Their flight to the Farm had begun in the late evening, at a small airport in the vicinity of Coleburg, Maryland. After landing and quickly settling in, the two went to the dining facility to enjoy a quiet pancake supper. After the meal, they retired to the main salon for coffee. Peled could not discuss any business with Joplin until he received confirmation by phone from his ambassador that he was cleared to do so.
When the call came, Peled was given the phone by one of the staff, who plugged it into the wall next to his chair. After identifying himself, the Israeli listened to a fifteen-second message. Then he hung up, looking over at Joplin.
'I am not cleared to speak with you until zero-six-forty-five tomorrow.
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11 SEPTEMBER 0630 HOURS
JOPLIN and Peled, enjoying the relative coolness of the early morning, strolled through the woods a few dozen yards away from the house. Both men were dressed for the occasion, wearing light jackets, blue jeans, and sneakers. They had consumed continental breakfasts with plenty of coffee, and both were buoyed by heavy doses of caffeine.
Joplin knew that the reason his Israeli counterpart had requested the meeting at the Farm had to be of great import. But the man's attitude indicated there were no critical elements of urgency or time constraints involved. Or it could be that perhaps his people didn't want to give the Americans the opportunity to respond too quickly to whatever information he had to pass on. The Israelis were independent thinkers and doers, and did not appreciate nor seek any critiques of their various projects.
Peled had picked up a thin branch on the ground and walked with it, idly swinging it back and forth. Another five minutes of the stroll continued; then he checked his watch. Now was the time to get down to business.
'I am sure you are familiar with a certain Iranian Special Forces camp, Carl. In fact, we are informed that you have scored a victory of sorts on the border between Iran and Afghanistan.'
Joplin smiled. 'Tell me, Avigdor: Is there any place at all in this world where the Mossad does not have agents?'
Peled chuckled. 'I know of none.'
'Then you are aware that our aims there were fully met,' Joplin said. 'And, although it is not yet announced publicly, I am sure I would not surprise you if I said the Iranians are now ready to negotiate everything we've demanded of them.'
'Yes,' the Israeli said. 'We are aware of those conditions. However--'
Joplin interrupted. 'Uh-oh! Whenever you say 'however' I know you're going to lower the boom.'
'We have irrefutable intelligence that Tehran has no serious intentions of negotiating anything with you,' Peled said. 'In fact, they are about to show their worst side to America, the world, and to us.'
'What are our Persian antagonists going to do now?'
'They are going to invade Afghanistan,' Peled said. 'They backed off from that series of battles they had engaged in with your SEALs because they finally realized they would gain no advantages from the situation. Even now they have gathered leftover East German armor, artillery, and munitions to make a big strike that will carry them deep into that poor, backward country.'
'How soon is this supposed to happen?' Joplin asked.
'We estimate that around the last of September or the first of October,' Peled replied.
