'Printouts?'
'You were programmed only on his; you were zapped from the central unit. His name's Gerald Bryce and if he's the whistleblower, I'll turn myself in to the FBI as Mr. Bolaslawski's Jewish mole for the Soviets. He's bright and quick and a whiz with the equipment, no one better. He'll run Cons Op some day if the girls leave him alone long enough to punch a clock.'
'A playboy?'
'Landsakes, Reverend, shall we go to vespers? The kid's twenty-six and better looking than he has a right to be. He's also unmarried, and one hell of a cocksman—others talk about it; he never does. I think that's why I like him. There aren't too many gentlemen left in this world.'
'I like him already. Who was the last person, the one on the scene who knew me?'
Frank Swann leaned forward, fingering his empty glass, staring at it before raising his eyes to Kendrick. 'I thought you might have figured that out for yourself.'
'What? Why?'
'Adrienne Rashad.'
'Doesn't mean a thing.'
'She used a cover—’
'Adrienne…? A woman? Swann nodded. Evan frowned, then suddenly opened his eyes wide, his brows arched. 'Khalehla?' he whispered. The man from the State Department nodded again. 'She was one of you?'
'Well, not one of mine, but one of us.'
'Christ, she got me out of the airport in Bahrain! That big son of a bitch MacDonald slammed me into the concourse traffic—I was damn near killed and didn't know where I was. She got me out of there—how the hell she did it, I don't know!'
'I do,' said Swann. 'She threatened to blow the heads off a few Bahrainian police unless they passed her code name up the line and got clearance to take you out. She not only got clearance but also a car from the royal garage.'
'You say she was one of us, but not one of you. What does that mean?'
'She's Agency but she's also special, a real untouchable. She has contacts all over the Gulfs and the Mediterranean; the CIA doesn't allow anyone to mess with her.'
'Without her my cover might have been blown at the airport.'
'Without her you would have been a target for every terrorist walking around Bahrain, including the Mahdi's soldiers.'
Kendrick was briefly silent, his eyes wandering, his lips parted, a memory. 'Did she tell you where she hid me?'
'She refused.'
'She could do that?'
'I told you, she's special.'
'I see,' said Evan softly.
'I think I do, too,' said Swann.
'What do you mean by that?'
'Nothing. She got you out of the airport and roughly six hours later made contact.'
'Is that unusual?'
'Under the circumstances, you could say it was extraordinary. Her job was to keep you under surveillance and to immediately report any drastic moves on your part directly to Crawford at Langley, who was to contact me for instructions. She didn't do that, and in her official debriefing, she omitted any reference to those six hours.'
'She had to protect the place where we were hiding.'
'Of course. It had to be royal, and nobody screws around with the Emir or his family.'
'Of course.' Kendrick again was silent and again he looked into the dark regions of the decrepit bar. 'She was a nice person,' he said slowly, hesitantly. 'We talked. She understood so many things. I admired her.'
