as hell doesn’t deserve this shit. And to be perfectly blunt, I’m having difficulty believing he did everything they’re saying.”
I looked somewhat astonished, because it is not in the nature of professional diplomats to blurt out exactly what they’re thinking. It makes their toes curl or something. I asked, “Why’s that, Mr. Ambassador?”
He waved his long gangly arms around the air. “Oh hell, I’ve been doing Soviet or Russian affairs for thirty years. Always the same damn thing… they catch one of these guys, then blame everything from Sputnik to nuclear plants in Iran on them.”
“You think they’ve exaggerated it?”
“No, I don’t think that. I know that.”
Katrina gave him a discerning look. “And how could you know that?”
“You two heard all the shit they’re putting on his doorstep?”
“We don’t expect to get the full monty until the prosecutor calls to offer a deal,” I admitted.
He chuckled. “Sometimes we’re worse than the damned Soviets used to be with their show trials. There’s just things he couldn’t possibly have done. He just couldn’t.”
We sat and stared at each other, us hoping he’d say something more enlightening, which he didn’t. Instead, he bent forward, and that menacing expression slammed back into place. “Now, in case you haven’t heard, we’ve got FBI and CIA people climbing all over our asses. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told them. I have an embassy to run. The mostly good people who work in this building are trying to manage the highly delicate relations between two countries that have over twenty thousand nuclear warheads. This is still the one relationship in the world that can obliterate the earth. And we need Russia’s help with this counterterrorism thing, too. Our work takes precedence over everything. Don’t get in our way. Don’t cause us problems. Misbehave or abuse our generosity and I’ll slap your asses on an airplane so fast you’ll wonder if you were ever here. Clear?”
How could it not be clear? I nodded politely while Katrina stared demurely at the floor. We made a lovely couple.
He continued: “That young captain’s got an embassy car and he’s been told to take you anyplace you need to go. There’s a reason for my generosity. Be careful in this town. It’s run by mobsters, there’s Chechen bombs going off sporadically, and you can get fleeced faster than in Times Square in its heyday. Any questions?”
You know those stories you sometimes hear about those effete, limp-wristed State Department types who sip tea with a pinkie lifted and speak in polished riddles? Mr. Riser must have been sick for that day of training.
I replied, “You’ve made everything abundantly clear.”
He chuckled at that, too. “Good. Get out of here and do what you have to do. And remember, don’t abuse our hospitality.”
Mel awaited us in the anteroom. He looked surprisingly cheery and said, “Hey, did you hear the latest thing the general did?”
I said, “No, I, uh, I tried to get the TV in my hotel room to work, but, uh, it was stuck on some channel.”
I was of course looking at Katrina as I reported this, hoping to restore my reputation.
“They’re saying that when he was on the NSC staff and reports would come in on what the Russians were up to, he would modify them and sometimes even add pure distortions to mislead the President.”
I shook my head. “No kidding? That’s what they’re saying?”
“That’s the latest,” Torianski confirmed, leading us back down the hall to the elevators. “Well, what’s next?” he asked, looking at Katrina instead of me, which frankly showed healthy instincts. She was much more invigorating to look at.
I told him, “We want to meet the head of that big investigating team you mentioned.”
There was a choking sound, and his eyes nervously darted around. “Mr. Jackler? You’re sure?”
“Would I have asked if I wasn’t?”
He took us into the elevator, pushed a button, and we were off. The doors opened on the seventh floor, and just as in Eddie’s building, two armed guards were standing straight in front of us. They didn’t have Uzis pointed at our chests, although otherwise the place had the earmarks of an Eddie Golden extravaganza. The whole floor reeked of lethal determination and obnoxious self-importance.
The guard on the left muttered, “What do you want?”
I replied, “We’re Morrison’s attorneys. We want to talk to Jackler, the guy in charge of your show.”
He walked off and left us in the company of the other guard, who was staring curiously at Katrina-not curiously like she was a suspect; curiously, like what was she doing that night, and, uh, maybe she’d like to see what it was like to do the salami dance with a real man. Maybe I should have told him what she does to guys she catches cheating.
The other guy returned a minute later and led us around a few corners to a small office at the back of the building. Mel, like the courageous lion of lore, let Katrina and me go in and then stopped at the doorway, like, Hey, I’m with these two, but not really with them.
Jackler, the man behind the desk, made no effort to get up. He looked to be about fifty, and in terrific shape for his age-or any other age, for that matter. He had a crew cut and a nose that had been broken with extreme prejudice, as they say in the trade, and looked incredibly like Sergeant Joe Friday, if you added fifty pounds of hard muscle, a misshapen snout, and made his personality even less scintillating. It was a great face for an inquisitor.
He didn’t invite us to sit down in the chairs in front of his desk, but stared at them, willing us to sit. So we did.
His chilling eyes examined me. “You’re Drummond, right?”
“I’m afraid so. And this is my co-counsel, Katrina Mazorski.”
He did this funny thing with his face that was akin to a nod, only without moving his head. It was a gesture every aspiring badass really should master, and I tried to do something with my face, too, only it made my earlobes itch, so I don’t think it created the impression I wanted.
“You asked for this meeting,” he said in a severely icy tone.
“Right. No doubt we’ll be interviewing the same people, and I don’t want to get anything confused.”
“I knew you were coming,” he informed me.
“I’m sure you did. A guy like you probably knows everything.”
He was looking at me quizzically. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
It was probably best not to answer that, so instead I asked, “Who do you report to? The Agency or the prosecutor’s office?”
“We run everything through Golden first, then he decides what goes forward. Why’s that? He a buddy of yours?”
“Oh yeah. Like this,” I said, twisting two fingers together. “Of course we ended up on different sides this time.”
This earned a big guffaw. “Yeah, and he’s really gonna kick your butt, too.”
“Well, yeah,” I chuckled. “Except the other guy should take some of the heat off my client.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“What? You’re kidding, right? Eddie hasn’t told you what we’ve got?”
“He hasn’t told me shit. With him it’s always take, take, take.”
“I know, I know,” I said, shaking my head in commiseration. “I mean, I love him like a brother, but the boy’s got a few kinks and flaws. You might find this hard to believe, but some JAG guys think he’s a real prick.”
“Do tell,” he said very impatiently. “What’s this shit about this other guy?”
I winked at him. “Why do you think we flew all this way? We get the name and we trade it to Eddie for a big sentence reduction. A few more small details to wrap up, and then, badda-bing, the big press conference.”
“Aw, you’re shittin’ me.”
Katrina suddenly bent forward with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry, I’m a private citizen. Don’t you government people… well, don’t you share these things?”
I stared at her, because I hadn’t really expected any help. He, of course, was staring even harder. He said, “You mean, you’re not jackin’ me off?”
I said, “Look, it’s the unwritten code of the JAG Corps-never surprise each other. We’re not cannibals, right? Make one or two guys look bad, and pretty soon everybody’s making everybody look bad. Eddie keeps me clued in on the big stuff, and I return the favor.”
