“It isn't us.”
“Really?” Dr. Elliot leaned back and played with her blue silk cravat. “Who, then?”
“We don't know, Liz.” Cabot looked even more uncomfortable than she had expected. Maybe, she thought playfully, he thought he was the target of the investigation…? There was an interesting idea. “We want to talk to Holtzman.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we and the FBI talk to him, informally of course, to let him know that he may be doing something irresponsible.”
“Who came up with that, Marcus?”
“Ryan and Murray.”
“Really?” She paused, as though considering the matter. “I don't think that's a good idea. You know how reporters are. If you have to stroke them, you have to stroke them properly… hmm. I can handle that if you wish.”
“This really is serious. SPINNAKER is very important to us.” Cabot tended to repeat himself when he got excited.
“I know it. Ryan was pretty clear in his briefing, back when you were ill. You still haven't confirmed his reports?”
Cabot shook his head. “No. Jack went off to England to ask the Brits to nose around, but we don't expect anything for a while.”
“What do you want me to tell Holtzman?”
“Tell him that he may be jeopardizing a highly important source. The man could die over this, and the political fallout might be very serious,” Cabot concluded.
“Yes, it could have undesired effects on their political scene, couldn't it?”
“If SPINNAKER is right, then they're in for a huge political shakeup. Revealing that we know what we know could jeopardize him. Remember that—”
Elliot interrupted. “That Kadishev is our main fallback position. Yes. And if he gets 'burned,' then we might have no fallback position. You've made yourself very clear, Marcus. Thank you. I'll work on this myself.”
“That should be quite satisfactory,” Cabot said, after a moment's pause.
“Fine. Anything else I need to know this morning?”
“No, that's why I came down.”
“I think it's time to show you something. Something we've been working on here. Pretty sensitive,” she added. Marcus got the message.
“What is it?” the DCI asked guardedly.
“This is absolutely confidential.” Elliot pulled a large manila envelope from her desk. “I mean absolutely, Marcus. It doesn't leave the building, okay?”
“Agreed.” The DCI was already interested.
Liz opened the envelope and handed over some photographs. Cabot looked them over.
“Who”s the woman?'
“Carol Zimmer, she's the widow of an Air Force crewman who got himself killed somehow or other.” Elliot filled in some additional details.
“Ryan, screwing around? I'll be damned.”
“Any chance we could get more information from inside the Agency?”
“If you mean accomplishing that without any suspicion on his part, it would be very difficult.” Cabot shook his head. “His two SPOs, Clark and Chavez, no way. They're very tight. Good friends, I mean.”
“Ryan's friendly with bodyguards? You serious?” Elliot was surprised. It was like being solicitous towards furniture.
“ Clark 's an old field officer. Chavez is a new kid, working as an SPO while he finishes his college degree, looking to be a field officer. I've seen the files. Clark 'll retire in a few more years, and keeping him around as an SPO is just a matter of being decent. He's done some really interesting things. Good man, good officer.”
Elliot didn't like that, but from what Cabot said, it seemed that it couldn't be helped. “We want Ryan eased out.”
“That might not be easy. They really like him on the Hill.”
“You just said he's insubordinate.”
“It won't wash on the Hill. You know that. You want him fired, the President just has to ask for his resignation.”
But that wouldn't wash on the Hill either, Liz thought, and it seemed immediately clear that Marcus Cabot wouldn't be much help. She hadn't really expected that he would be. Cabot was too soft.
“We can handle it entirely from this end, if you want.”
“Probably a good idea. If it became known at Langley that I had a hand in this, it might look like spite. Can't have that,” Cabot demurred. “Bad for morale.”
“Okay.” Liz stood, and so did Cabot. “Thanks for coming down.”
Two minutes later, she was back in her chair, her feet propped up on a drawer. This was going so well. Exactly as planned. I'm getting good at this…
“So?”
“This was published in a Washington paper today,” Golovko said. It was seven in the evening in Moscow, the sky outside dark and cold as only Moscow could get cold. That he had to report on something in an American newspaper did not warm the night very much.
Andrey Il'ych Narmonov took the translation from the First Deputy Chairman and read through it. Finished, he tossed the two pages contemptuously onto his desktop. “What rubbish is this?”
“Holtzman is a very important Washington reporter. He has access to very senior officials in the Fowler Administration.”
“And he probably writes a good deal of fiction, just as our reporters do.”
“We think not. We think the tone of the report indicates that he was given the data by someone in the White House.”
“Indeed?” Narmonov pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose, cursing the cold that the sudden weather change had brought with it. If there was anything for which he did not have time, it was an illness, even a minor one. “I don't believe it. I've told Fowler personally about the difficulty with the missile destruction, and the rest of this political twaddle is just that. You know that I've had to deal with uniformed hotheads — those fools who went off on their own in the Baltic region. So do the Americans. It's incredible to me that they should take such nonsense seriously. Surely their intelligence services tell them the truth — and the truth is what I've told Fowler myself!”
“Comrade President.” Golovko paused for a beat. Comrade was too hard a habit to break. “Just as we have political elements who distrust the Americans, so they have elements who continue to hate and distrust us. Changes between us have come and gone very rapidly. Too rapidly for many to assimilate I find it plausible that there might be American political officials who believe this report”
“Fowler is vain, he is far weaker as a man than he would like people to know, he is personally insecure — but he is not a fool, and only a fool would believe this, particularly after meeting me and talking with me.” Narmonov handed the translation back to Golovko.
“My analysts believe otherwise We think it possible that the Americans really believe this.”
“Thank them for their opinion I disagree.”
“If the Americans are getting a report saying this, it means that they have a spy within our government.”
“I have no doubt that they have such people — after all, we do also, do we not? — but I do not believe it in this case The reason is simple, no spy could have reported something which I did not say, correct? I have not said this to anyone. It is not true What do you do to a spy who lies to us?”
“My President, it is not something we look upon kindly,” Golovko assured him.
That is doubtless true of the Americans also.“ Narmonov paused for a moment, then smiled. ”Do you know what this could be?'
“We are always open to ideas.”
