Thai Horse

As Simmons walked toward the office door Hatcher stood up and touched his arm. ‘Listen to me for a minute,’ he said. ‘What happened in-country, that doesn’t count over here. You forget that. That was another life. What you did? That could happen to anybody. And if you did cost Cody his life, you probably saved the lives of the pilot, copilot and you. Three for one, that’s a fair enough trade.’

‘I’ve thought of that,’ Simmons said. ‘It doesn’t help.’

‘Conscience can be a terrible companion,’ Hatcher whispered.

‘That doesn’t help either,’ Simmons said bitterly. He pulled his cap down tight over his head and left the room. Hatcher watched through the window as Simmons ran through the snow toward the chopper. He thought to himself, Okay, so Cody could have gotten out. And if he could’ve gotten out, he could still be alive and that means he’s not dead for sure.

So where’s he been for fifteen years?

‘You lost him? You lost him,’ Sloan said softly but firmly. ‘How can you lose anybody in — What was the name of that place again?’

‘Shelby,’ Zabriski answered. ‘He didn’t come back to Billings, Colonel. He took a feeder into Spokane and from there to Seattle, then he caught a flight into L.A.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘L.A. International. He’s going out in the morning.’

‘Where?’

‘San Diego.’

‘San Diego! What the —, Sloan hesitated for a moment, then: ‘Wait a minute. I’m putting you on hold, just hang on.,

Sloan punched the hold button, and turned to one of four computer operators who worked in his tiny headquarters.

‘Holloway, I need a current location on two Navy men.

Lieutenant Commander Ralph Schwartz and Commander

Hugh Fraser. And I got a man holding on long distance’

Sloan spelled the two names.

‘Gimme a minute, sir,’ Holloway said. Sloan drummed his desk nervously and leafed through the copy of the Murphy file while Holloway typed questions into his computer. Sloan’s operational headquarters was three rooms in. a small office building four blocks from the White House. There was a small waiting room manned by his secretary, the main terminal room, which had four computer terminals connected to a network of phones and satellites, and Sloan’s private office, which did not contain a single personal item of any kind.

It took less than two minutes for the sergeant to get the answers.

‘Coming up now, sir,’ the sergeant said. ‘Fraser retired eighteen months ago, Colonel. He’s VP of a small charter airline in Seattle. No current civilian address on tap. On the other one . . . uh, here we go Ralph Schwartz: he’s full commander now, sir, director of flight instruction at NAS San Diego.’

‘That’ll do it, Sergeant, thanks,’ Sloan said and switched back to Zabriski in L.A. ‘Okay, I got it worked out. Cancel the surveillance and come back in.’

‘Cancel the surveillance?’ the agent asked, surprised.

‘Cancel it,’ Sloan said and hung up. He started to laugh. That son of a bitch, he thought, he’s playing games with me, showing me he still has the stuff. The whisper man had made no attempt to cover his tracks, he just wanted to see how long it would take to catch up with him. Sloan looked at his watch. It was 7 P.M., 4 P.M. on the coast. Hatcher had covered a lot of ground in twenty-four hours.

Another computer operator interrupted his thoughts.

‘We have a computer call coming in, Colonel.’

‘Who from?’

‘M base.’

The caller was using a computer modem to make the call. It was a method for securing the telephone line on risk calls. The computer screen in front of the operator scrolled out several questions requiring responses.

Code number:

Daily code:

Operation code:

Level clearance:

Call target code name:

Your code name:

Your clearance number:

Voice check:

An incorrect response anywhere along the line would result in an instant disconnect and a freeze on the calling number so it could be traced. Numbers and names appeared across the screen as the caller answered the questions.

‘He’s cleared the voice check,’ the operator said.