'Rowland? Well, in that case. . . ' He took the phone and stuck it in his ear. 'Hello, John,' he said, frown changing to a smile. 'No apology needed. You're just in time to hear the good news. Katie won first place in English riding at the country club…. Thank you. Now, what's so important that it interrupts possibly the most important moment of Katie's life?'
LeGrand's brow furrowed. 'No, I've never heard of it . . . yes, of course . . . wait for me in my office.'
He handed the phone to his aide, looked at the trophy, and shook his head. 'Tell the car to come around and pick me up immediately at the stable. We've got to get back to Langley immediately. Then put a call in to my office and tell them to render any assistance that John Rowland asks for. I've got to say my good-byes and make amends. Hell, this will probably cost me another horse.' He loped off to offer his apologies to his daughter.
Twenty minutes later the black limo squealed to a halt in front of CIA headquarters. LeGrand got out, striding through the lobby on his long legs. An assistant met him inside the door. He snatched the folder from his aide's hand and scanned the material in the elevator. Moments later he stepped into his office. John Rowland was waiting with a nervous young man he introduced as a fellow analyst named Browning.
Rowland and the director shook hands like the old friends they were. Years before, both were at the same level in the agency. But LeGrand had political ambition and the drive to climb to the top of the ladder. Rowland was content to stay in his post where he was known as a mentor for the young analysts coming through the ranks. LeGrand put unquestioning faith in Rowland, who on more than one occasion had saved his boss from stepping into a cow flap.
'I just read the material you got off the database. What's your take on it?'
Rowland lost no time outlining his analysis.
'This thing can't be stopped?' LeGrand said.
'The protocol has been activated. The sanction will be carried out to the end.'
'Damn! Heads are going to roll when I'm through. Who's the target?'
Rowland handed him a sheet of paper. LeGrand read the name on it, and the color drained from his face.
'Call the Secret Service. Tell them we've learned of an assassination plot against the speaker of the House. He needs protection immediately. Dear God,' he said. 'Can anyone tell me how something like this happens?'
'We're going to have to do some digging to get all the de tails,' Rowland said. 'We only know that the protocol was triggered by simultaneous queries to the intelligence-gathering community that came from the National Underwater amp; Marine Agency.'
'NUMA?' The air over LeGrand's head crackled blue as he gave an impressive demonstration of his renowned skill for inventive expletive. He slammed his big hand down on the desk with enough force to topple the pen from its holder and yelled at the nearest assistant. 'Get James Sandecker on the phone.'
Chapter 24
'Were about twenty minutes from Albany,' Buzz Martin said.
Austin looked out the window of Martin's two-engine Piper Seneca. The visibility was as unlimited as when they had left Baltimore earlier that afternoon. Austin could practically read the names on the boats dotting the upper reaches of the Hudson River.
'Thanks again for the lift. My partner Joe Zavala usually chauffeurs me around on these junkets, but he's still in California.'
Martin gave Austin a thumbs-up sign. 'Hell, I'm the one who should be thanking you. I'm sure you could have got up here on your own.'
'Probably, but my motives are not unselfish. I need you to identify your father.'
Martin glanced off at the Catskill Mountains to the west. 'I wonder if I'll even recognize him after all these years. It's been a long time. He could have changed a lot.' A cloud passed over his sunny features. 'Damn, ever since you called and asked me to fly you up here, I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to say to him. I don't know whether to hug him or hit the old bastard.'
'You might shake his hand for starters. Taking a swing at your long-lost father is no way to start a family reunion.'
Martin chuckled. 'Yeah, you're right. But I can't stop being angry with him. I want him to tell me why he left my mother and me and why he stayed hidden all these years, making us think he was dead. Good thing my mother is gone. She was an old-fashioned girl, and it would have killed her to think she had married while her first husband was still alive. Hell,' he said with a catch in his voice, 'I just hope I don't start bawling.'
He picked up the microphone and called the Albany control tower for landing instructions. Within minutes they were on the ground.
The car rental counter had no lines, and before long they were driving out of the city in a four-wheel-drive Pathfinder. Austin headed southwest on Route 88 toward Binghamton through rolling hills and small farms. About an hour from Albany he left the main highway and drove north to Cooperstown, an idyllic village whose neat main street looked like a set from a Frank Capra movie. From Cooperstown they headed west on a winding two-lane country road. This was James Fenimore Cooper's Leatherstocking country, and with a little imagination Austin could picture Hawkeye skulking through the wooded valleys with his Indian companions. Towns and houses grew even farther apart. In this part of the world the cows outnumbered the people.
Even with a map it was hard to find the place they were looking for. Austin stopped at a gas station-general store, and Buzz went in for directions. When he came out he was clearly excited.
'The old-timer in there says he's known Bucky Martin for years. 'Nice fella. Pretty much keeps to himself.' Go up this road a half a mile and turn left. The farm is about five miles from there.'
The road became narrow and bumpy, the tarmac almost an afterthought. The farms alternated with thick patches of woods, and they almost missed the turnoff. The only marker was an aluminum mailbox with no name or number on it. A dirt driveway, past the mailbox into the woods. They turned onto the driveway.
and passed through a copse of trees that shielded the house from the highway. Eventually the trees gave way to pastures where small herds of cows grazed. Finally, at least a half a mile from the road, they came upon the farmhouse.
The big two-story building was built in an era when three generations lived together to work a farm. The decorative windows and stained glass indicated that the owner had been successful enough to afford extra touches. A porch ran across the front. Behind the house was a red barn and silo. Next to the barn was a corral with two horses in it. A fairly new pickup truck was parked in the yard.
Austin swung into the circular driveway and parked in front of the house. No one came out to greet them. There was no curious face in the windows.
'Maybe you should let me go first,' Austin suggested. 'It might help if I do a little prep work before you meet face-to face.'
'That's fine,' Buzz said. 'I'm losing courage fast.'
Austin squeezed Martin's arm. 'You'll be fine.' He didn't know what he would have done in the man's place. He doubted he would have been as calm. 'I'll check him out and break it to him gradually.'
'I appreciate that,' Martin said.
Austin left the car, went up to the front door, and knocked several times. No one answered. Nor was there a response when he twisted the knob of the old doorbell. He turned around and threw his hands apart so Martin could see. He descended the porch and walked behind the house to the barn. The only sound was the soft clucking of chickens and the occasional grunt from a rooting pig.
The barn door was open. He walked inside, thinking that barns smelled the same the world over, an unmistakable combination of manure, hay, and big animals. A horse snorted as he walked by its stall, maybe thinking he was bringing it sugar, but there was no sign of Martin. He called out a hello and when there was no response walked out the back door. The chickens under Wild Bill Donovan. I was what they'd call a hit man today. I pulled a few assignments after the war, then told them I wanted to retire. The boss said there was no way they could let me do that. I knew too much. So we worked out a deal. They'd keep me active for one more job. The only problem was, they didn't know when the order would be carried out. It could be five months or five years.' He chuckled. 'No one figured it would go on this long, especially me.' Austin noticed that Martin had lost his folksy
