'No. In fact he did the wounding—the killing. One of the terrorists is still alive—’
'I want him!' shouted Kendrick.
'So do we. Our people are on the way out there.'
'Mesa Verde was the terrorists' backup for Fairfax, wasn't it?'
'Unquestionably. But right now it's also our only hope in tracking down the others. Whatever that survivor knows, he'll tell us.'
'Keep him alive.'
'Your friend Weingrass has seen to it.'
'Strip him for cyanide.'
'It's been done.'
'He can't be left alone for a minute!'
'We know that.'
'Of course you do,' said Evan, closing his eyes, his face drenched with sweat and rain. 'I'm not thinking, I can't think. How's Manny taking it?'
'With considerable arrogance, to be truthful.'
'That's the first decent news I've heard.'
'You're entitled to it. He was truly remarkable for a man of his age.'
'He was always remarkable… at any age. I've got to get out there. Forget Washington. Fly me directly to Colorado.'
'I assumed you would make that request—’
'It's not a request, Mitch, it's a demand!'
'Of course. It's also the reason why your plane is delayed. The Air Force has punched up the fuelling for Denver and points west and is clearing a flight plan above the commercial routes. The aircraft has a maximum speed of Mach two point three. You'll be home in less than three hours, and remember, say nothing to anyone about Fairfax. Weingrass has already contained Mesa Verde.'
'How?'
'Let him tell you.'
'Do you really think you can keep everything quiet?'
'I will if I have to go to the President myself, and at this point I don't think there's any alternative.'
'How will you get past the palace guard?'
'I'm working on that. There's a man I studied with years ago in my early life as a would-be historian. We've kept in touch in a casual way and he has a great deal of influence. I think you know the name. It's Winters, Samuel Winters—’
'Winters? He's the one who told Jennings to give me the Freedom Medal in that crazy ceremony.'
'I remembered. It's why I thought of him. Have a good flight, and my love to my niece.'
Kendrick walked to the warehouse door where his police escort stood, two inside, two outside, their weapons levelled in front of them. Even the CIA's station chief, who in the dim light looked as though he might be Bahamian himself, held a small revolver in his hand. 'You people always carry those things?' asked Evan without much interest.
'Ask your friend who knew that the “status was clean”,' replied the intelligence officer, waving Kendrick through the door.
'You're joking. She has one?'
'Ask her.'
'How did she get on the plane in the States? The metal detectors, then customs over here?'
'One of our little secrets, which isn't so secret. A luggage or customs supervisor just happens to show up when we're passing through and the detector is shut down for a couple of seconds, and with customs an immigration inspector is alerted as to what not to find.'
'That's pretty loose,' said Kendrick, climbing into the official airport car.
