Assumed Identity

A microphone-transmitter required something to receive its broadcast. Depending on the strength of the transmitter, the receiver might be as far away as a mile. But practical considerations-static-producing electrical equipment in the area, for example-usually required that the receiver be much closer to the source. As well, it was useful for the person monitoring the reception to maintain visual surveillance on the target area. Thus the odds were, Buchanan concluded, that the receiver was in the neighborhood-possibly in a building, although in this respectable single-family-dwelling area it would have been difficult for a surveillance team to take over a house- more likely in a vehicle of some sort. But there weren’t any other cars parked on the street in this block. Buchanan had noticed that when he’d arrived, and he checked again as he crossed the lawn toward his rented car.

He turned to glare at Pedro Mendez, who continued to stand on his front porch, scowling at Buchanan.

Damned good, Pedro, Buchanan thought. You missed your calling. You could have been an actor.

Pretending to be furious, Buchanan spun toward his Taurus. As he rounded it to unlock the driver’s side, he glanced both ways along the street, and there it was, some kind of vehicle parked two blocks away. He hadn’t noticed it before because the vehicle, small down there, was in shadows between widely spaced streetlights. The only reason he noticed it now was that the headlights of an approaching car exposed it.

I think it’s time to pay somebody a visit, Buchanan thought as he started the Taurus, turned on its lights, and drove away. The headlights of the approaching car came up behind him, aggravating his headache.

Somebody wants to find Juana badly enough that they bug the house. But they still can’t be sure Juana didn’t get a message to her parents in a way that the microphones couldn’t detect, so whoever wants to find Juana becomes impatient and sends somebody around to the house to pretend they know Juana and ask where she is. No success. They send somebody else. Nothing. So they send yet another. .

Does that make sense? Buchanan wondered. They must have realized that three old friends coming around in two weeks would make Juana’s parents suspicious. Then why would-?

Yes, Buchanan thought. If Juana is in touch with her parents, whoever is after her wants her to know that her parents are being watched. They want to make Juana nervous about her parents. They want to threaten her by implying a threat against her parents. They hope that’ll force her to come out of hiding.

And now that I showed up, now that the surveillance unit knows there’s a wild card, they might get nervous enough to stop being patient and have a long, forceful chat with Juana’s parents. I have to let Pedro and Anita know they’re in danger.

And what about me? Buchanan thought as he steered around a corner. Whoever’s after Juana will want to talk to a stranger who suddenly shows up and asks the same questions they did.

Buchanan steered around another corner.

The headlights behind him kept following.

My, my, Buchanan thought.

8

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The colonel had chosen a motel on the edge of town, using a pay phone to reserve a room under a pseudonym. At 11:00 P.M., after he’d used an electronic scanner to make sure that the room was free of microphones, his three associates arrived, their clothes speckled with water from the dank November rain that had greeted them at Washington National Airport following their flight from New Orleans.

All of them looked tired, even Captain Weller, who normally exuded sexual vitality. Her blond hair looked stringy, her blouse wrinkled. She took off her jacket, slumped on the motel room’s sofa, and toed off her high-heeled shoes. Major Putnam and Alan had haggard red cheeks, presumably from fatigue combined with the dehydration that occurs on aircraft and the further dehydrating effect of alcohol.

“Can we get some coffee?” Captain Weller asked.

“Over there,” the colonel said flatly. “The carafe on the tray beside the phone.” In contrast with his visitors, the colonel looked fit and alert, standing as straight and attentively as ever. He’d shaved and showered before he’d arrived, partly to keep himself fresh, partly to appear more energized than his companions. His clothes, too, were fresh: shined Bally loafers, pressed gray slacks, a starched white shirt, a newly purchased red-striped tie, and a double-breasted blue blazer. The effect was to make his tall, trim body suggest the military, even though he did not wear military clothing.

“Oh.” Captain Weller glanced toward the carafe on the tray beside the phone. She and Major Putnam, who slumped on a chair beside the television, did not wear military clothing, either. “Right. I didn’t notice it when I came in.”

The colonel’s eyes narrowed as if to imply that she had been failing to notice a lot of things.

Alan, the only civilian in the room, loosened his rumpled tie, unbuttoned the top of his wrinkled shirt, and walked over to the coffee, pouring a cup. Everyone in the room looked surprised when he carried the cup over to Captain Weller and then returned to pour another cup, blowing steam from it, sipping. “What are we doing here? Couldn’t this have waited until the morning? I’m dead on my feet, not to mention I’ve got a wife and kids who haven’t seen me in-”

The colonel’s flint-and-steel voice interrupted, “I want a thorough update. No more of your hints and guesses that you don’t feel comfortable talking about because you don’t trust the security of the phones.”

“Hey,” Alan said, “if we’d been given portable scramblers, I’d talk on phones all you wanted, but once burned, twice shy, Colonel. In this case, we need extra-tight security.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” The colonel stood straighter. Rain pelted against the window, making the dismal room even less agreeable. “That’s why I ordered you to be here right now instead of at home in bed with your wife.”

Alan’s expression hardened. “Ordered, Colonel?”

“Somebody tell me what’s going on.” The colonel’s voice became more flinty. “Major, you’ve been unusually silent so far.”

“A lot of it you already know.” The major rubbed the back of his neck. “In New Orleans, we went to meet Buchanan at his hotel room. The arrangement was to be there at nine hundred hours. He didn’t respond when we knocked. After we tried several times, we asked a maid to unlock the door. The day before, he’d been released from the hospital. Maybe he’d fainted or something. What we found was his room key, a signed checkout form-obviously he didn’t want the hotel to start a search for him-and this note addressed to Alan.”

The colonel took the note and scanned it.

“So he says he’s going to do us a favor by dropping out of sight. That way, he’s an invisible man, and the reporter from the Post can’t verify her story if she pursues it.”

“That seems to be the idea,” the major said.

“And how do you feel about this?” The colonel scowled.

“Hell, I don’t know,” the major said. “This is all out of hand. Everything’s so confused. Maybe he’s right.”

“Damn it, have you forgotten that you’re an officer in the United States Army?”

The major straightened with controlled indignation. “No, sir, I definitely have not.”

“Then why must I remind you that Captain Buchanan is absent without permission? A deserter. Our operatives can’t just decide to quit and go off on their own, especially when they know as much as Buchanan does. We’d have chaos, a security nightmare. I can see I haven’t been supervising you closely enough. What this assignment requires is more discipline, more-”

It was Alan’s turn to interrupt. “No, what this assignment needs is for everybody to remember who’s an officer in the United States Army.” He set down his coffee cup with such force that liquid splashed over the side. “That’s where this assignment went wrong in the first place, with military personnel doing work that’s supposed to be done by civilians. You’ve been impersonating civilians so long you don’t know the difference.”

“By ‘civilians,’ you mean the Agency. ”

“Obviously.”

“Well, if the Agency had been doing its job, it wouldn’t have needed to call on us,