The Second Saladin

“It’s a pity too. Because the Soviet operation had already come apart.”

“I know it had.”

“I figured you did, Paul. I thought something was going on in that head of yours. I wish you’d come to me, Paul. I wish you’d trusted me. It would have saved a lot of trouble.”

“It’s Sam, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Paul. Sam has been working for the Russians since nineteen seventy-four. One of the consequences of the Kurdistan thing. Sam is an insanely ambitious man, Paul. He was terrified that Saladin Two would be a big success and Bill Speight would become the next Deputy Director for Operations. So he sent old Frenchy to Vienna to blow the op. But Speshnev was too smart, too fast. Speshnev is very good, you know, Paul. He’s just about their best. He nailed Frenchy and he broke him, broke him wide open fast. And then he owned Sam. He just had Sam so tight there was no getting out of it. I guess it wasn’t long before they saw how their interests coincided. They’ve been helping each other along all these years.”

“Jesus,” said Chardy.

“I guess there’s some good news here for you, Paul. You didn’t betray the Kurds. You really didn’t.”

“That’s just a technicality, Yost,” Chardy said. “A minor trick of timing. If I’m off the hook, it’s not because they knew one day before I told them or one week or one year. It’s because there was no hook. I tried; I failed. I did my best. I can’t ask much more from myself and nobody else has the right to, either.”

“Now that’s a healthy attitude, Paul. That’s very healthy. I’m glad you see it that way. We knew all this some time ago, and believe me, the temptation was enormous to let you in on it. But I’m glad you worked it out on your own, Paul. We were just getting closer and closer and we couldn’t risk anything. And when it turned out Danzig had duplicates on the Saladin Two files, we knew Sam and Speshnev would have to cook something up. We used it: we thought we could get Speshnev as well as Sam. Now that would be a catch, wouldn’t it? A Soviet double and his Russian case officer? Damn, that would have been something!”

Chardy lay back against the pillar. This headache would not go away.

“The poor Kurd,” said Yost. “He’s the tragic figure in all this. He’s the most innocent of all. He was used and used and used. The poor bastard.”

Chardy shook his head in pain.

“And Danzig. Oh, I wish we’d been a little smarter, a little sooner. It’s such a dirty business, Paul. People just keep getting in the way. Sometimes you have to wonder about it all.”

“Did you get them? Did you at least get Sam and the Russian?”

“We arrested Sam an hour ago. When Danzig escaped. It was finally time. I wish you could have been there. He had no idea we were onto him. But there’s no evidence Speshnev ever came into this country. Sam will tell us, though. Eventually.”

“I’m quitting, Yost. I’m getting out of it. Everything I tried to do I fucked up.”

Joseph Danzig moaned. He rolled over and put his hand to his face.

“My God,” said Yost. “He’s still alive. We better get some medical people here, Paul—”

“Oh, he’s fine. He’s not shot. I hit him. I have a terrible, terrible temper. Did I ever tell you about the time I punched Cy Brasher? It was like that: I just let go. Oh, Christ, I’m in trouble. Jesus, he could have me sent to jail. It was so stupid of me. Why do I do these stupid things?”

Chardy looked over.

Yost had picked up the Skorpion.

“Be careful, Yost. It’s loaded; it’s cocked. Those things are very dangerous.”

“I know about guns, Paul. I was in the Delta during Tet.” He pulled the bolt back a hair and looked into the breech. “I can see the gleam of the brass cartridge in there.”

“Put it down. You could hurt somebody. Jesus, I hope Danzig doesn’t press charges. Do you think you could put in a good word for me when he comes to? I’d really appreciate it.”

Yost had the Skorpion pointed toward Chardy.

“Sorry, Paul,” he said.

“Hosepipe Three, this is Hosepipe Nine — do you read?”

The man in front picked up the mike.

“I’m reading, Hosepipe Nine.”

“Who the hell is Hosepipe Nine?” Lanahan asked.

“One of our other cars, out looking for Danzig,” somebody said.

“Three, I’m on Rock Creek Parkway by the Roosevelt Bridge, and I received that transmission loud and clear. From Hosepipe One, I mean.”

“Thank you, Hosepipe Nine. We copy.”

“What’s that near?” Lanahan asked.

“State Department. Lincoln Memorial. Watergate. Kennedy Center. It’s right in the middle of—”

“Kennedy Center!” shrieked Miles. “It’s an Agency safe-house — the lower floor of the parking garage. You got a siren on this thing? Come on, hit it.”

The siren began to wail and a portable flasher was clamped atop the sedan as it began to accelerate down M Street.

“Come on, hurry,” Lanahan urged them again, and licked his lips out of fear. For now he knew what Chardy was up to.

“He’s playing cowboy again,” he told them.

Chardy looked at Yost. Yost wore his pinstripe suit and glasses. He was about fifty. He had sandy thin hair. As always he was controlled, quiet, calm. He betrayed no unsteadiness.

“It was just like you said, Yost,” Chardy said. “Sam’s ambition, Frenchy’s betrayal, Speshnev’s fast footwork. Except all the way there was one other character. It was you. You were Sam’s brains.”

“He’s not very bright, Paul. He doesn’t have a first-class mind. He’s very smooth and charming, but he’s just not very bright.”

“You sold him on blowing Saladin Two. And you went to Frenchy. And you sold Frenchy, offered him the big upstairs job. And when Speshnev cracked Frenchy, it was your name he coughed up. And it was you Speshnev nailed.”

“What could I do, Paul? He had me.”

“And when I’m in the cell and Speshnev can’t break me and he’s getting desperate until he tells me he knows about Johanna and he’ll lay her head on the table, it’s you he learned it from. And when Sam crucifies Bill Speight and me at the hearing, it’s because you’ve done his staffwork for him. And up he goes, and up you go. And all those years you’ve been working for him and everything he knew you knew and it went straight to Speshnev. And when you set Danzig up in Boston and everybody thinks you’ve fucked up, he finds you a new job in Satellites. But Satellites are ten times more important than anything in Operations. You’re right in the center. And if Sam should make DCI, he’ll take you along. And if something goes wrong, if somebody thinks there’s a double, and they begin to backtrack, the trail leads straight — to Sam. Sam takes the heat. Everybody watches Sam, not you. And during all this, it’s Sam I hate, Sam I’m trying to screw, Sam who drives me crazy. Not you. I don’t even know you. I never even heard of you.”

“Paul, it’s time. Speshnev had planned to do this himself. It’s time to end it. Sorry.”

He held the machine pistol in both hands and fired.

The bolt jammed halfway forward.

“I turned the first shell around in the clip,” Chardy said. “You should have looked more carefully.”

Chardy took the Ingram out from under his coat.

“This is how you fucked up. Because you underestimated everybody. Each step of the way, and by only a little bit, you underestimated everybody. You thought we were such losers. Old Speight did pretty good down in Mexico. That dreamy kid Trewitt did even better. And Miles, even little Miles came through when we needed him. Everybody was there when we needed them, Yost. And Frenchy: Frenchy was there too. You underestimated Frenchy the most. Frenchy left me a message, buried in an old computer disc, because he didn’t trust you. Miles bluffed his way into the pit this evening and dug it out. A minute before you arrived he reached me on this” — he pulled out the radio unit — “with your name.”

He paused.

“Yost, I ought to blow you the fuck in half for all you’ve cost me.”