rogue agent-a man who’s unstable at best, who many powerful people in this organization feel is dangerous to CI in particular-for a mission that could have dire consequences for this country, for the continuation of CI as you and I know it?”
A jolt of anxiety ran down Soraya’s spine. “Wait a minute, back that up. What do you mean the continuation of CI as we know it?”
Hart glanced from one of the NSA agents to the other. Then she expelled a deep breath and told Soraya everything that had happened from the moment she’d been summoned into the Oval Office to meet with the president and had found herself confronting Luther LaValle and General Kendall.
“After I managed to prevail with the president, LaValle accosted me outside for a chat,” Hart concluded. “He told me that if I didn’t play nice with him he’d come after me with everything he has. He wants to take over CI, Soraya, wants it as part of his ever-enlarging intelligence services domain. But it isn’t just LaValle we’re fighting, it’s his boss, the secretary of defense. The plan is Bud Halliday’s through and through. Black River had some dealings with him when I was there, none of them pleasant. If he succeeds in bringing CI into the Pentagon fold, you can be sure the military will come in, ruin everything with their usual war-like mentality.”
“Then there’s even more reason to let me bring Jason in for this.” Soraya’s voice had taken on added urgency. “He’ll get the job done where a company of agents can’t. Believe me, I’ve worked with him in the field twice. Whatever’s said about him within CI is totally false. Sure, lifers like Rob Batt hate his guts, why wouldn’t they? Bourne’s got a freedom they wish they had. Plus, he’s got abilities they never dreamed of.”
“Soraya, it’s been implied in several evaluations that you once had an affair with Bourne. Please tell me the truth-I need to know if you’re being swayed by anything other than what you think will be best for the country and for CI.”
Soraya knew this was coming and was prepared. “I thought Martin had laid that office scuttlebutt to rest. There’s absolutely no truth to it. We became friends when I was chief of station in Odessa. That was a long time ago; he doesn’t remember. When he came back last year to rescue Martin he had no idea who I was.”
“Last year you were in the field with him again.”
“We work well together. That’s all,” Soraya said firmly.
Hart was still clandestinely watching the NSA agents. “Even if I thought what you were proposing would work, he’d never consent. From everything I’ve read and heard since coming to CI, he hates the organization.”
“True enough,” Soraya said. “But once he understands the nature of the threat I think I can convince him to sign on one more time.”
Hart shook her head. “I don’t know. Even talking to him is a damn huge gamble, one I’m not sure I’m willing to take.”
“Director, if you don’t seize this opportunity, you’ll never be able to. It’ll be too late.”
Still, Hart was unsure which direction to take: the tried and true or the unorthodox.
“I think this place has outlived its usefulness,” she said abruptly. She signaled the waiter. “Soraya, I believe you have to powder your nose. And while you’re there, please call the Metro DC Police. Use the pay phone; it’s in working order, I checked. Tell Metro that there are two armed men at this restaurant. Then come right back to the table and be ready to move quickly.”
Soraya gave her a small conspiratorial smile, then rose, threading her way back to the ladies’ room. The waiter approached the table, frowning.
“Is there something wrong with the brook trout, ma’am?”
“It’s fine,” Hart said.
As the waiter gathered up the plates Hart took out five twenty-dollar bills, slipped them in his pocket. “You see that man over there, the one with the wide face and football player’s shoulders?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How about you trip when you get to his table.”
“If I do that,” the waiter said, “I’m liable to dump these brook trouts in his lap.”
“Precisely,” Hart said with a winning smile.
“But it could mean my job.”
“Don’t worry.” Hart took out her ID, showed it to him. “I’ll square things with your boss.”
The waiter nodded, turned away. Soraya reappeared, made her way to the table. Hart threw some bills onto their table but didn’t stand up until the waiter bumped into a busboy. He staggered, the plates tipped. As the NSA shadow leapt up, Hart rose. Together she and Soraya walked to the door. The NSA shadow was berating the waiter, who was brushing him down with several napkins; everyone was looking, gesticulating. A couple of people closest to the accident were shouting their versions of what happened. Amid the escalating chaos, the second NSA shadow had gotten up to come to his compatriot’s aid, but when he saw his target heading toward him he changed his mind.
Hart and Soraya had reached the door, were stepping out into the street. The second NSA shadow began to follow them, but a pair of burly Metro cops burst into the restaurant detaining him. “Hey! What about them!” he shouted at the two women.
Two more patrol cars screeched to a halt, cops raced out. Hart and Soraya already had their IDs out. The cops checked them.
“We’re late for a meeting,” Hart said briskly and authoritatively. “National security.”
The phrase was like
“Sweet,” Soraya said, impressed.
Hart nodded her head in acknowledgment, but her expression was grim. Winning such a small skirmish meant nothing to her, save a bit of immediate gratification. It was the war she had her gaze set on.
When they were several blocks away and had determined that they were clean of LaValle’s tags, Soraya said, “At least let me set up a meet with Bourne so we can pick his brain.”
“I very much doubt this will work.”
“Jason trusts me. He’ll do the right thing,” Soraya said with absolute conviction. “He always does.”
Hart considered for some time. Scylla and Charybdis still loomed large in her thought process. Death by water or fire, which was it to be? But even now she didn’t regret taking the director’s position. If there was anything she was up for at this stage in her life it was a challenge. She couldn’t imagine a bigger one than this.
“As you no doubt know,” she said, “Bourne wants to see the files on the conversations between Lindros and Moira Trevor.” She paused in order to judge Soraya’s reaction to the woman Bourne was now linked with. “I agreed.” There wasn’t even a tremor in Soraya’s face. “I’m meeting him this evening at five,” she said slowly, as if still chewing the idea over. Then, all at once, she nodded decisively. “Join me. We’ll hear his take on your intel then.”
Eleven
SPLENDIDLY DONE,” Specter said to Bourne. “I can’t tell you how impressed I am with how you handled the situations at the zoo and at the hospital.”
“Mikhail Tarkanian is dead,” Bourne said. “I never meant that to happen.”
“Nevertheless it did.” Specter’s black eye wasn’t quite as swollen, but it was beginning to turn lurid colors. “Once again I’m deeply in your debt, my dear Jason. Tarkanian was quite clearly the traitor. If not for you, he would have been the instigator of my torture and eventual death. You’ll pardon me if I don’t grieve for him.”
The professor clapped Bourne on the back as the two men walked down to the weeping willow on Specter’s property. Out of the corner of his eye, Bourne could see several young men, armed with assault rifles, flanking them. Following the events of today, Bourne didn’t begrudge the professor his armed guards. In fact, they made him feel better about leaving Specter’s side.
Under the nebula of delicate yellow branches the two men gazed out at the pond, its surface as perfectly flat as if it were a sheet of steel. A brace of skittish grackles lifted up from the willow, cawing angrily. Their feathers gleamed in brief rainbow hues as they banked away from the swiftly lowering sun.
“How well do you know Moscow?” Specter asked. Bourne had told him what Tarkanian had said, and they’d
