H.M.S. Unseen

business myself.”

“We could bring in evidence from Scotland,” growled Morgan. But he was only testing the waters.

“Where’s that, Admiral? I’ve never even been there, as my passport will show. You have only one witness, that fool Anderson, whom any good lawyer would rip to bits.”

“You have told me plenty, Commander. And the CIA.”

“Yes. Your methods of torture, like some Third World despot, have been very effective. You and your henchmen could make a man admit anything. On the other hand, real evidence, as you know, is very hard to find. I can’t help thinking a public trial is not in anyone’s best interests. And you will never get anyone to admit I had anything to do with downing those aircraft.”

Admiral Morgan had always known that the cooperation of Benjamin Adnam was only good while the man made his plea for life. Once that was achieved, and he was put on trial, things would be very different. And in his soul Arnold Morgan knew this man never would, never could, come to public trial. The ramifications, on all sides, were just too difficult. No good could possibly come of it. Not for anyone. Especially not for the United States of America.

“Should we decide to take a more agreeable route, and make you a clandestine employee of the government, what would your expectations be?”

Benjamin Adnam restrained even a cautious smile. He had after all planned for this moment for weeks and weeks. This moment represented his entire reason for being in the U.S.A. But he spoke slowly.

“Admiral Morgan, I would plainly need a new identity. Which I imagine you would have little trouble providing. I would also need somewhere to live and some money. The Iraqis treated me less than generously.

“I imagine you would wish me close to Washington, where my knowledge could best be put to use.”

“Would you wish to become a citizen?”

“I think I would leave that to you.”

“Do you put a high price on your worth to us?”

“I always put a high price on my worth to anyone.”

“Have you considered that you might owe us something.”

“Nossir. I work for money. Or else I leave. If I can.”

“Try not to forget Option One.”

“I have not forgotten it. But if you are planning to exercise that, then we ought not to be talking at all.”

“No we ought not. But lemme ask you this, how much money do you think we should pay you?”

“Sir, that depends how long I stay, and how long you would wish to employ me.”

“How long would you like to stay here in the United States?”

“Until I die.”

“Which could be tomorrow.”

“But I hope, and think, not.”

“Why? Are you not our most intractable enemy?”

“Was. Not anymore. And, I doubt it has escaped you, there are very few places I can go. In my trade you tend to have a downward spiral of friends, a spiral that ends up running out.”

“Commander, I understand that very well. But I would like to pursue finances for a moment. If, for instance we wanted to employ you over a ten-year period, there’s no way we’d give you a substantial lump sum before that time was up. Just in case you decided to vanish. However, we might think about a monthly arrangement with perhaps a capital sum accruing to you each year, which you could not, of course, touch.”

“What if I wished to buy a house here?”

“No problem. We’d own it until your service time was up.”

“Then, under such circumstances, I would expect to accrue money at the rate of $1.5 million a year, on top of my normal living salary. The interest to come to me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“After all, I can probably show you how to get Iraq out of your hair permanently. What would that alone be worth?”

“Commander, you do not need to waste your time convincing me of your worth. I know it. That’s why we’re sitting here.”

“Excellent. We could probably make a very good team. You remind me in many ways of my Teacher. Different style. Same analytical mind.”

Despite an uneasy feeling that he was being patronized, the admiral smiled. He stood up and walked to the window. Then he turned around quite suddenly, and said, “I wonder how wise it would ever be for me to turn my back on you.”

“Admiral, I have nowhere else to go. That’s why I’m here.”

“That’s why we’re talking. I guessed your situation. The only catch may be that you are already working for someone else.”

“Admiral, if you can trust me long enough to make a deal, I give you one promise. I can prove my former employer became my enemy, and I will do so to your satisfaction, as soon as we seal our arrangement. If I fail, you may either execute me, or I will take cyanide.”

“Accepted. The burden of proof is on you. That’s between us. And now I’m outta here. Hope you get a decent dinner. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Oh, Admiral, just one thing you should know before you go…I forgot to tell you, I have written out my whole story, you know the aircraft carrier, and the passenger airliners…with suitable backup material, to be released to the media by my Swiss bank, if I should disappear, or die. You know, if I fail to report to them every six weeks.

“I’ve arranged for the material mainly to go to foreign newspapers…the UK, France, Germany, and of course, the Washington Post. I thought that might deter you from executing Option One…the fact that I might come back to annoy you…from beyond the grave, as it were. How will the President laugh off the decision to take out three Iranian submarines when Iran had done nothing? How will you excuse your lies about the loss of the Jefferson? Your more recent cover-up over the airliner ‘accidents’ will seem like kid stuff in comparison.

“Matter of fact, I think you should be extremely relieved you did not go to Option One in the first hour before we had time to talk…anyway, see you tomorrow.”

The admiral scowled, headed back out to his car, walking resolutely, his chin stuck out in front of him, looking as if he were about to declare war. He was behind the wheel, with the engine running, before the Secret Servicemen had time to scramble out of the house and join him. Admiral Morgan did not like being outwitted, as he suspected he was by the Iraqi. Generally he preferred the driver’s seat.

He drove on to his lunch appointment, first heading north to the Richmond Highway. From there they went farther south, away from the city, for another nine miles, where the admiral turned first onto a secondary road, then onto a shaded woodland drive, at the end of which was a majestic white Colonial house.

He told his Secret Service detail he would be two hours. One of them should go and find their lunch, and one should bring the communication system inside. Both agents knew they were at the private residence of Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Admiral Scott F. Dunsmore. They also knew he could not possibly have purchased this spectacular property, overlooking the Potomac River to the Maryland Heights, with his Navy salary. The scholarly Scott Dunsmore, it was well-known, was from a Boston banking family. He had also been the cleverest admiral in the Navy. That, too, was well-known.

And now he stepped out to greet his old friend Arnold Morgan, and they stood chatting for a few minutes below the tall, greening trees, some still in blossom. A couple of bobwhite quails called, from quite close in the woodland, and above them the sky was clear blue. The idyllic rural scene contrasted darkly with the grim, subversive, and murderous subject they were about to discuss. Standing there in the lovely grounds of the house was to postpone the enormity of their decision…what to advise the President when they met him in the White House at1600. The subject, as it had been so many times before, was Benjamin Adnam. Scott Dunsmore had suffered the shuddering distinction of being Chief of Naval Operations when the Jefferson was sunk.

Inside the mansion the two admirals retired to a high summery room that faced out directly to the river and the distant Maryland shore. It was a familiar room to Arnold Morgan, and he settled himself into a wide,