aftermath had never gone away. You couldn't slam a president who was doing so fine a job.
“We may have a problem with the Russians,” Elliot began.
“Oh?” Holtzman was caught by surprise for once.
“We have reason to believe that Narmonov is having considerable difficulty dealing with his senior military commanders. That could have effects on final compliance with the arms treaty.”
“How so?”
“We have reason to believe that the Soviets will resist elimination of some of their SS-18 stocks. They're already behind in destruction of the missiles.”
Reason to believe. Twice. Holtzman thought about that for a moment. A very sensitive source, probably a spy rather than an intercept. “They say that there's a problem with the destruct facility. The inspectors we have over there seem to believe them.”
“Possibly the factory was designed with — what do you call it? Creative incompetence.”
“What's the Agency say?” Holtzman asked, scribbling his notes just as fast as he could.
“They gave us the initial report, but so far they've been unable to get us a real opinion.”
“What about Ryan? He's pretty good on the Soviets.”
“Ryan's turning into a disappointment,” Liz said. “As a matter of fact — and this is something you can't say, you can't use his name — we have a little investigation going that's turned up some disturbing data.”
“Like?”
“Like, I think we're getting skewed data. Like, I think a senior Agency official is having an affair with a person of foreign birth, and there may be a child involved.”
“Ryan?”
The National Security Advisor shook her head. “Can't confirm or deny. Remember the rules.”
“I won't forget,” Holtzman replied, hiding his annoyance. Did she think she was dealing with Jimmy Olsen?
“The problem is, it looks like he knows we don't like what he's telling us, and as a result he's trying to put a spin on the data to please us. This is a time when we really need good stuff from Langley, but we're not getting it.”
Holtzman nodded thoughtfully. That was not exactly a new problem at Langley, but Ryan wasn't that sort, was he? The reporter set that aside. “And Narmonov?”
“If what we're getting is in any way correct, he may be on the way out, whether from the right or the left, we can't say. It may be that he's losing it.”
“That's solid?”
“It appears so. The part about blackmail from his security forces is very disturbing. But with our problems at Langley…” Liz held up her hands.
“Just when things were going so well, too. I guess you're having problems with Cabot?”
“He's learning his job pretty well. If he had better support, he'd be okay.”
“How worried are you?” Holtzman asked.
“Very much so. This is a time when we need good intel, but we're not getting it. How the hell can we figure out what to do about Narmonov unless we get good information? So, what do we get?” Liz asked in exasperation. “Our hero is running around doing stuff that really doesn't concern his agency — he's gone over people's heads to the Hill on some things — doing a Chicken Little act on one thing while at the same time he's not getting Cabot good analysis on what appears to be a major issue. Of course, he has his distractions…”
Our hero, Holtzman thought. What an interesting choice of words. She really hates the guy, doesn't she. Holtzman knew the fact, but not the reason. There was no reason for her to be jealous of him. Ryan had never shown great ambition, at least not in a political sense. He was a pretty good man, by all accounts. The reporter remembered his one public faux pas, a confrontation with Al Trent which, Holtzman was certain, must have been staged. Ryan and Trent got along very well now by all accounts. What could possibly have been important enough to stage something like that? Ryan had two intelligence stars — what for, Holtzman had never been able to find out. Just rumors, five different versions of four different stories, probably all of them false. Ryan wasn't all that popular with the press. The reason was that he had never really leaked anything. He took secrecy a little too seriously. On the other hand, he didn't try to curry favor either, and Holtzman respected anyone who avoided that. Of one thing he was sure: he had gravely underestimated the antipathy for Ryan in the Fowler Administration.
I'm being manipulated. That was as obvious as a peacock in a barnyard. Very cleverly, of course. The bit about the Russians was probably genuine. The Central Intelligence Agency's inability to get vital information to the White House wasn't exactly new either, was it? That was probably true also. So, where was the lie? Or was there a lie at all? Maybe they just wanted to get truthful but sensitive information out… in the normal way. It wasn't the first time he'd learned things in the northwest-corner office of the White House West Wing.
Could Holtzman not do a story on this?
Not hardly, Bobby boy, the reporter told himself.
The ride home was smooth as silk. Ryan caught as much sleep as he could, while the sergeant who took care of the cabin read through assembly instructions for some of the toys Jack had picked up.
“Yo, Sarge.” The pilot was back in the cabin for a stretch. “Whatcha doin'?”
“Well, Maj, our DV here picked up some stuff for the kiddies.” The NCO handed over a page of directions. Tab-1 into Slot-A, use 7/8ths bolt, tighten with a wrench, using…
“I think I'd rather tinker with broke engines.”
“Roger that,” the sergeant agreed. “This guy's got some bad times ahead.”
24
REVELATION
“I don't like being used,” Holtzman said, leaning back with his hands clasped at the base of his neck.
He sat in the conference room with his managing editor, another long-term Washington-watcher who'd won his spurs in the feeding frenzy that had ended the presidency of Richard Nixon. Those had been heady times. It had given the entire American media a taste for blood that had never gone away. The only good part about it, Holtzman thought, was that they didn't cozy up to anyone now. Any politician was a potential target for the righteous wrath of America 's investigatorial priesthood. The fact of it was healthy, though the extent of it occasionally was not.
“That's beside the point. Who does? So, what do we know is true?” the editor asked.
“We have to believe her that the White House isn't getting good data. That's nothing new at CIA, though it's not as bad as it used to be. The fact of the matter is that Agency performance has improved somewhat — well, there is the problem that Cabot has lopped off a lot of heads. We also have to believe what she says about Narmonov and his military.”
“And Ryan?”
“I've met him at social functions, never officially. He's actually a fairly nice guy, good sense of humor. He must have a hell of a record. Two Intelligence Stars — what for, we do not know. He fought Cabot on downsizing the Operations Directorate, evidently saved a few jobs. He's moved up very fast. Al Trent likes him, despite that run-in they had a few years ago. There's gotta be a story in that, but Trent flatly refused to discuss it the only time I asked him. Supposedly they kissed and made up, and I believe that like I believe in the Easter Bunny.”
“Is he the sort to play around?” the editor asked next.
“What sort is that? You expect they're issued a scarlet 'A' for their shirts?”
“Very clever, Bob. So, what the hell are you asking me?”
“Do we run a story on this or not?”
The editor's eyes widened in surprise. “Are you kidding? How can we not run a story on this?”
“I just don't like being used.”
“We've been through that! I don't, either. Granted that it's obvious in this case, but it's still an important story, and if we don't run it, then the Times will. How soon will you have it ready?”
