“Right. It was signed ‘Nod.’”
“As in land of Nod?”
“Correct. We’re running references on that now.”
“So the only connection to The Arrington is that it came from California?”
“So far. That and the fact that it was transmitted via a cell tower at the top of Stone Canyon, in L.A.”
“I know the one-it would cover The Arrington’s location.”
“Yes, but because of the tower’s elevation, it would cover a big chunk of Beverly Hills and the San Fernando Valley, as well.”
“You have a point.”
“A rather blunt point, I’m afraid.”
“Right now, that’s the way I like it,” Mike said. “If it were any sharper, I’d be worried.”
“Are you worried enough for me to pass this on to the Secret Service?”
“If it were my call, no,” Mike said. “But that’s your call.”
“I think I’ll hold off until I have more, if we should actually get more, which I doubt.”
“I think that’s wise.”
There was a brief silence, then Hipp said, “You know Holly Barker, don’t you?”
“Sure,” Mike said. “I sold our air transport company to the Agency a few years back, and Holly ran it for a few months, until they could hire somebody who could get through the vetting.”
“Well, Holly got promoted to assistant director at the Agency.”
“Assistant director? I didn’t know they had those. I thought it was deputy director.”
“That’s the way it was, until Holly got the title. She’s replacing Greg Whatshisname, who was assistant to the Director. Greg got shipped off to Rome, and Stewart Graves, who was ADDI, was packed off to London.”
“Sounds like a shake-up,” Mike said.
“Sounds to me like Kate is paving the way for Lance Cabot to replace her when she goes.”
“That’s interesting, if she can pull it off,” Mike said. “But for that to happen, the Democrat would have to get elected to replace Will Lee, and it would have to be a Democrat whose ear Kate has.”
“I think our beloved veep, Stanton, has the inside track for the nomination, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, because he’s veep. There’ll be some competition, though.”
“Lance has done some major cultivation in the garden of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence,” Hipp said. “Lance might get it, even if a Republican is elected.”
“Well, if anybody could work both sides of the street, it’s Lance. I wouldn’t be upset if he got it.”
“Neither would I,” Hipp said. “I can’t say I’m fond of Lance, but I don’t hate him, and that’s something.”
“I’m fond of him on some days, and I hate him on others,” Mike said. “But I’m fond of Holly all the time.”
“I don’t know her all that well, but I hear good things.”
“She’s gotten some of the credit for the way Lance has smoothed out operations.”
“You think that if Lance gets the job, he might pick her to replace him at ops?”
“Nobody’s closer to Lance than Holly.”
“Well, we’ll see what we shall see, won’t we? Gotta run.”
“See you, Scott. Keep me in the loop, will you?”
“Sure.” Hipp hung up.
Mike switched off his scrambler and called Stone Barrington.
“Hey, Mike.”
“Just got some news, Stone: shake-up at the Agency. Stewart Graves and Greg Barton are out.”
“I know the names, but not the people,” Stone replied.
“The big news is that Holly is replacing Barton in Kate’s office, with the title of assistant director.”
Stone made a whistling sound. “Big jump!”
“I read the changes as Kate’s paving the way for Lance.”
“I’m sure Lance would like nothing better.”
“And if he gets it, Holly could be the next DDO.”
“You know,” Stone said, “if Holly ever leaves the Agency, you should pounce on her.”
“I’ve thought that ever since I saw the way she ran the air transport company. She made me wish we still owned it.”
“Well, if Lance doesn’t get Kate’s job, Holly will be at a dead end at the Agency. That’s when you should go after her.”
“That’s good advice.”
“She still has a New York apartment from when she did that thing for Lance here a few years back.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Nice place, on Park.”
“No relocation costs!” Mike laughed.
“Where are you?” Stone asked.
“In L.A. I had dinner last night with Rifkin, the Secret Service detail honcho.”
“Any news from him?”
“If he had any news, he wouldn’t share it. They’re like that.”
Mike told him about the cell call from L.A. to the watch-listed website. “That’s why I’m not telling him about that, or anything else. They’ve already doubled their efforts at The Arrington, and that’s all I want from them. At the moment.”
“Does this cell call from California worry you?”
“Not at the moment. Time will tell.”
“Thanks for the news about Holly. I’ll drop her a note-she’ll be impressed that I know.”
“You do that, and congratulate her for me.”
Stone hung up, called Dino, and told him the news.
15
Holly Barker spent the morning unpacking her things, hanging a couple of pictures, and registering the Agency desktop to her identity. Her new office was more than three times the size of her previous one and contained a small conference table, a sofa, and a pair of comfortable chairs and more bookcases. She had indeed been given a prime parking spot, one that would cause envy among the Agency’s hierarchy, and she liked it.
“Getting settled in?” Kate Lee said from behind her.
Holly turned to find her boss standing in her doorway. “Yes, ma’am,” Holly said. “I’m ready to go to work.”
“That’s good, because you’re headed to London tonight.”
“I am?” Lance rarely sent her anywhere.
Kate made herself comfortable on Holly’s sofa, and Holly joined her, bringing along a pad.
“We have an operative in Europe that you and Lance don’t know about. He has always communicated with me through what is now your office. I’ve sent him a message to expect you tomorrow, and he’ll call you on your cell phone after you’ve landed.”
“All right. Who is he?”
“His birth name was Ari Shazaz,” Kate said, “but his passport is British, in the name of Hamish McCallister. He was born in Syria to an Algerian father and a Scottish mother. He’s in his early forties, and you will find him to be impeccably British-Eton, Oxford, White’s, the Garrick Club, etcetera. At school and university he was known as McCallister, his mother’s maiden name. His father died when he was eight or nine, and she took him to London to bring up. She’s from landed gentry-they own an island off the west coast of Scotland, appropriately called Murk.
“Hamish is fluent in Arabic and Urdu along with French and Italian. After university, he worked in a family- owned bank, doing business in the Middle East and on the continent. He has earned his living for the past ten years as a weekly columnist for the Guardsman, a leftish London paper, and he writes the occasional penetrating article
