DANCERS
Ryan knew it was too late when the traffic woke him up and he saw that the windows were flooded with light. A look at his watch showed eight-fifteen. That almost set off a panic attack, but it was too late to panic, wasn't it? Jack rose from the bed and walked into the sitting room to see his wife already working on her morning coffee.
“Don't you have to work today?”
“I was supposed to assist with a procedure that started a few minutes ago, but Bernie is covering for me. I think you ought to put some clothes on, though.”
“How do I get to work?”
“John'll be here at nine.”
“Right.” Ryan walked off to shower and shave. On the way, he looked in the closet and noted that a suit, shirt, and tie were waiting for him. His wife had certainly planned this one carefully. He had to smile. Jack had never thought of his wife as a master — mistress? — of conspiracy. By eight-forty, he was washed and shaved.
“You know I have an appointment right across the street at eleven.”
“No, I didn't. Say hi to that Elliot bitch for me.” Cathy smiled.
“You don't like her, either?” he asked.
“Not much there to like. She was a crummy college teacher. She's not as smart as she thinks. Major ego problems.”
“I've noticed. She doesn't like me very much.”
“I did get that impression. We had a little fight yesterday. I think I won,” Cathy observed.
“What was it all about anyway?”
“Oh, just a girl-to-girl thing.” Cathy paused. “Jack…?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I think it's time for you to leave.”
Ryan examined his breakfast plate. “I think you may be right. I have a couple more things to do… but when they're done…”
“How long?” she asked.
“Two months at the outside. I can't just leave, babe. I'm a presidential appointee. I had to be confirmed by the Senate, remember? You can't just walk away from that — it's like desertion if you do. There are rules you have to follow.”
Cathy nodded. She'd won her point already. “I understand, Jack. Two months is good enough. What would you like to do?”
“I could get a research job almost anywhere, Center for Strategic and International Studies, Heritage, maybe the Johns Hopkins Center for Advanced International Studies. I had this talk in England with Basil. When you get to my level, you're never really gone. Hmph. I might even write another book…”
“We'll start off with a nice long vacation, soon as the kids are out of school.”
“I thought…?”
“I won't be too pregnant then, Jack.”
“You really think it happened last night?”
Her eyes arched wickedly. The timing was just about right, and you had two chances, didn't you? What's the matter? You feel used?'
Her husband smiled. “I've been used worse.”
“See me tonight?”
“Did I ever tell you how much I like that nightie?”
“My wedding dress? It's a little formal, but it did have the desired effect. Shame we don't have more time now, isn't it?”
Jack decided he'd better get out of here while he still could. “Yeah, babe, but I have work to do, and so do you.”
“Awww,” Cathy observed playfully.
“I can't tell the President that I was late because I was boffing my wife across the street.” Jack came to his wife and kissed her. “Thanks, honey.”
“A pleasure, Jack.”
Ryan emerged from the front door to see Clark waiting in the drive-through. He got right in.
“Morning, doc.”
“Hi, John. You only made one mistake.”
“What's that?”
“Cathy knew your name. How?”
“You don't need to know,” Clark replied, handing over the dispatch box. “Hell, sometimes I like to sack in myself, y'know?”
“I'm sure you broke some kind of law.”
“Yeah, right.” Clark headed out. “When do we get the go-ahead on the Mexico job?”
“That's what I'm going into the White House for.”
“Eleven?”
“Right.”
It was gratifying to see that the CIA could in fact operate without his presence. Ryan arrived on the seventh floor to see that everyone was at work. Even Marcus was where he belonged.
“Ready for your trip?” Jack asked the Director.
“Yeah, heading off tonight. Station Japan is setting up the meet with Lyalin.”
“Marcus, please remember that he is Agent M USHASHI, and his information is NIITAKA. Using his real name, even here, is a bad habit to get into.”
“Yeah, Jack. You're heading down to see the President soon for the Mexico thing?”
“That's right.”
“I like the way you set that thing up.”
“Thanks, Marcus, but the credit goes to Clark and Chavez. Open to a suggestion?” Jack asked.
“Go ahead.”
“Put them back in Operations?”
“If they bring this one off, the President will go along with it. So will I.”
“Fair enough.” That was pretty easy, Jack thought. He wondered why.
Dr. Kaminiskiy went over the films and swore at himself for his error of the previous day. It hardly seemed possible, but—
But it wasn't possible. Not here. Was it? He had to run some additional tests, but first he spent an hour tracking down his Syrian colleague. The patient was moved to another hospital, one with a laminar room. Even if Kaminiskiy were wrong, this man had to be totally isolated.
Russell fired up the forklift and took several minutes to figure out the controls. He wondered what the previous owner had needed with one, but there was no point in that. There was enough remaining pressure in the propane tanks that he didn't have to worry about that either. He walked back to the house.
The people here in Colorado were friendly enough. Already, the local newspaper distributors had set up the delivery boxes at the end of the drive. Russell had the morning paper to read with his coffee. A moment later, he realized how good a thing that was.
“Uh-oh,” he observed quietly.
“What is the problem, Marvin?”
“I've never seen this before. The Vikings fans are planning a convoy… over a thousand cars and buses. Damn,” he noted. “That”ll screw the roads up…' He turned to see the extended weather forecast.
“What do you mean?”
“They have to come down I-76 to get to Denver. That might mess things up some. We want to arrive about noon, maybe a little later… about the same time the convoy is supposed to arrive…”
