commuter car, and, speaking of cars, he drove several different exotics to work, taking turns between the Lotus, the Porsche, and the “Lambo.” It was all remarkably egocentric, and far too flaunting for Grim’s taste, and Kovac had already inspired a legion of haters among the low-level analysts. But the deputy director didn’t care. He was and would forever be terse, demanding, and unflinching, and he had on more than one occasion lectured his subordinates about how hard he’d worked to reach his goals.
He was an ass. No two ways about it.
In fact, while he knew most people referred to her as Grim, he never once called her that, relying only upon Ms. Grimsdottir, spoken in the tone of a private schoolteacher addressing his unfortunate pupil.
“Hello, Ms. Grimsdottir.”
She winced and fired back, “How you doing, Nick,” in her best New York accent, as though addressing one of the boys.
He took a long breath. “I’ve come for an update on Fisher.”
“I would’ve been happy to call or e-mail you… ”
“You still think Fisher is in Reims?”
“We do. The team’s already begun its investigation.”
“But Fisher could be long gone.”
“He’s not.”
“You’re certain? Why?”
“Because I know Sam. If he made a mistake, he’ll wait around, shake the tree, see what falls out.”
“Well, I expect daily, even hourly, updates.”
“Of course.”
“Where’s Mr. Moreau?”
“We had a problem with one of the servers and he’s down there supervising.”
“Well, tell him I want to see him in my office before the end of the day.”
“I will.”
He started for the door, hesitated, turned back. “Ms. Grimsdottir? We don’t have to like or trust each other to do the good work of our country.”
“But it would make things easier.”
“What position would you have me take at a time like this”
“A supportive one, sir.”
“You have my support.”
She took a long breath. “But not your trust.”
“When Fisher is taken out of the equation, we’ll all be able to breathe easier.”
“If only it hadn’t come to this.”
“But it has. And I would hope that you’ve instructed your team to neutralize the problem with extreme prejudice.”
“Is there any other way?”
He winked. “Good girl.”
She glowered at him as he turned and strode arrogantly toward the door.
17
Kimberly Gillespie had just finished an encrypted text chat with Mr. Moreau when the man himself walked into the hotel room, holding his own key card and smiling like a bull shark.
Gillespie looked at the LCD screen, then at him, and had a WTF moment before finally opening her mouth.
But he beat her to the punch. “What’s up, Pippi? You done chatting with me?”
“What the hell?”
“Relax. You’ve been working with one of my young apprentices. He’s just a wannabe. That’s why it’s just text and no video.”
“Okay, that’s supposed to enlighten me… how?”
“You’re thinking too hard. You just keep working with the electronic me, and the NSA will be happy. Meantime, I’ll also be here, and we’ll set up some encryption of our own.”
“I wish I knew what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Put away that big brain and just close your eyes and ride the wave… ”
The door opened and in walked Hansen and Ames. Neither of them was surprised to see the operations manager, further confusing Gillespie.
“Are you working out of a room here or somewhere else?” Hansen asked Moreau.
“I’ve got a room here.”
“Wait a minute. You knew about this?” asked Gillespie.
Hansen shrugged. “I should’ve called you. Relax.”
Gillespie folded her hands over her chest. “Okay, I’m listening.”
Hansen spelled it all out for her, and then Moreau added, “Are you comfortable with this arrangement, or would you like to call Grim and suggest an alternate plan?”
Gillespie thought for a moment. Capturing Sam Fisher was hard enough. Now they were expected to put on a front, so that Kovac and his cronies didn’t know exactly what they were doing, because the deputy director, it seemed, was bent on dismantling Third Echelon — at least according to Moreau.
“The plan sounds fine, sir,” said Gillespie.
Moreau widened his eyes. “Glad we have your approval.”
Valentina and Noboru entered, and Noboru wheeled in a hotel luggage cart piled high with black duffel bags.
For the next five minutes they took an inventory of all the gear — suits, rifles, pistols, and a host of other toys — until Hansen looked up at Moreau and asked, “No trifocals? They’re on the list.”
“Are you kidding me?” cried Moreau. “They didn’t pack them?”
Hansen shook his head. “We got the NV binoculars but no goggles.”
“The geeks back in shipping must’ve screwed up again,” Moreau said with a heavy sigh. “We’ll do without them for now. I have a feeling we’ll be doing more hiding in plain sight than anything else. Try walking down the boulevard wearing trifocals and
“All right,” said Hansen. “But see if they can overnight them to us.”
Moreau nodded. “Leave that to me.”
Gillespie detected a slight tremor in Moreau’s voice… very odd. The ops manager then added that they were maintaining surveillance of Boutin’s apartment via satellite to ensure that the old man was home when they came knocking. Boutin had left only once to do some grocery shopping; otherwise, they were certain he was home.
Later in the day, Ames volunteered to call room service and order lunch. The others were unaware that his call was received by a field operative working for Deputy Director Kovac. This operative, a man known only by the code name Stingray, was Ames’s cutout so that he could safely pass information back to the deputy director. Ames placed the order, saying, “Yes, there are five of us… Oh, wait a minute, I forgot Moreau’s here. Make that six drinks.”
Stingray got the message, and within five minutes Kovac would know that Mr. Louis Moreau was in Reims, and that he and Grim were attempting to thwart the director’s information-gathering efforts. That Grim and Moreau still had no idea that Ames was a mole on the Splinter Cell team was a testament to Ames’s first-class tradecraft. They could pick on him all they wanted. They could hate him as much as they wanted.
Because when it was all over, Fisher would be dead, and Moreau, Grim, and the rest of them would be locked up. Ames would be the only man standing, and he and the deputy director would rebuild Third Echelon. Eventually, Ames would ascend to his rightful place as director of all operations.
