The Hadrian Memorandum

“Then there’s the flip side. It could all be a game just so I’d keep her with me. If so, and she set me up? You understand? We get the pictures, then the CIA swoops in, and she and they and the photos are gone and I’m hung out to dry for the murder of Theo Haas.”

“Nicholas, you don’t have to put yourself at risk any more than you already have. Leave her and get the pictures and get out of there.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t,” Marten said definitively, then glanced at the old men playing chess and then at the Auto Europe car rental agency across the street where Anne was.

“Does she know of my involvement in this?”

“No.”

Suddenly the door to the Auto Europe agency opened and Anne came out. She shaded her eyes from the sun and looked around, clearly wondering where he was. Marten stepped back into the shadow of a large stand of tall conifers that seemed the centerpiece of the park.

“What is it?” Harris said at his silence.

“Nothing.” Marten watched her for the briefest moment, then turned back to the phone. “Call Joe Ryder and tell him what’s going on. When I have the pictures, or don’t, I’ll let you know. In the meantime find some place where Anne and I can meet with Ryder that won’t draw attention. A good-sized city somewhere near here would be best. A place we can get lost in if someone’s following us. I know it means pulling Ryder out of Iraq, but he can travel a lot easier than we can.”

“It’s going to take a little while to put all this together. Let me call you this time. I don’t like not being able to reach you anyway. Give me your cell number.”

Anne crossed the street and was coming into the park. Marten moved farther back into the conifer grove. The last thing he needed was for her to see him on the phone and then to question him about it, wanting to know who he’d been talking to and why. Immediately he turned his attention back to the president.

“Better let me do the calling. I run into trouble, someone else gets the phone, and you call? If it’s the Agency there’s every chance they’ll trace it straight to you even if you hang up right away.”

“Give me an hour.”

Anne passed the old men playing chess and was approaching the trees where he was. She was noticeably concerned and looking around, as if she were afraid that he’d run out on her.

“One last thing.” A jagged intensity came into Marten’s voice. “Have you seen the latest regional CIA briefing video on Equatorial Guinea?”

“No.”

“Find a way to get it without the request seeming to come from you. Then watch it alone. That’ll answer why I’m doing what I am. You won’t need more.”

Anne was almost there, thirty feet away at most.

“I have to go, my friend. I’ll let you know what happens.” With that Marten clicked off and slid the phone into his jacket, then walked out from the behind the trees to meet her.

8:53 A.M

66

“I trust you got a car.” Marten took the initiative the moment he reached her. If she’d seen him talking on the phone or even sliding it into his jacket he didn’t want her asking who he was talking to and why. Better to keep the conversation on her and what was going on and hope she wouldn’t bring it up.

She nodded toward the rental agency. “It’s parked in front.”

“No questions about you? Who you were? How long you wanted the car? Where you planned to go?” He started them down the path and toward the street where the rental was.

“I said I was a tourist. I wanted it for a day or two, maybe more. That was it.” Suddenly her eyes flashed and she pressed him. Hotly. “Where the hell were you? I was looking all over. You were in this rush to get out of Faro, then you disappear into the woods. What were you doing, climbing trees?”

“I was looking for something.” Marten glanced around. The old men were still playing chess. Farther down a pair of young lovers lay in the grass, seemingly with no care in the world but themselves. A man of forty or so in jeans and a light sweater played with a small leashed monkey near the park’s entrance. For now, that was all.

“Looking for what?”

“Huh?” he brought his attention back to her.

“You said you were looking for something. What was it?”

“Garlic.”

“Garlic?”

“Ornamental garlic plants, Tulbaghia violacea. They’re growing here somewhere. I smelled them, I just couldn’t find them.”

Anne was incredulous. “We’re trying to get out of here and you’re looking for plants?”

“You may remember that flora interests me a great deal. It’s my profession. The reason I was in Bioko. It’s also a world I’d be very happy to get back to, and the sooner the better. So yes, garlic. You don’t believe me, take a deep breath, tell me what you smell.”

“You’re serious.”

“You act as if I’m making it up. Go ahead, sniff.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

“Sniff.”

“Fuck,” she said and then inhaled.

“What do you smell?”

“Garlic.”

Marten grinned. “Thank you.”

9:30 A.M.

The car was a silver Opel Astra with an automatic transmission. Marten took the N125 highway toward Portimao, some forty miles west. If Hauptkommissar Franck had put out an EU all points bulletin to apprehend Anne, or if her bank accounts were being electronically monitored, so far nothing had happened in the short time since she’d used a credit card at the car rental agency. And if whoever was following- CIA operatives or Conor White and maybe this Patrice-they hadn’t made themselves known either, at least that he was aware of. Still, he kept close watch on the rearview mirror.

“Okay. There’s just the two of us, we have a car, and we’re on our way,” Anne said abruptly, the light banter of before gone. “Where the hell are we going?”

Marten knew he had stalled as long as he could. “Rental agent give you a map?”

“Yes.”

“Open it and look for Praia da Rocha. It’s a beach town near Portimao.”

“Praia da Rocha.”

“You know it?”

“No.”

“Neither do I.”