The Icarus Agenda

by Ludlum, Robert

  'You heard the words, Congressman. Do you want me to repeat them?'

  'It's not necessary. They're not kalam-faregh, are they?'

  'No, Mr. Kendrick. none of it's garbage. It's all very pertinent and I wish to hell I knew what to do.'

  'Recruit me, Mr. Swann,' said the congressman. 'Send me to Masqat on the fastest transport you can find.'

  'Why?' asked the deputy, studying his visitor. 'What can you do that our own experienced men in the field can't? They not only speak fluent Arabic, most of them are Arabs.'

  'And working for Consular Operations,' completed Kendrick.

  'So?'

  'They're marked. They were marked five years ago and they're marked now. If they make any miswired moves, you could have a dozen executions on your hands.'

  That's an alarming statement,' said Swann slowly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his visitor's face. 'They're marked? Would you care to explain it?'

  'I told you a few minutes ago that your Cons Op briefly became a household name over there. You made a gratuitous remark about my elaborating on congressional rumours, but I wasn't. I meant what I said.'

  'A household name?'

  'I'll go further, if you like. A household joke. An ex-army engineer and Manny Weingrass even did a number on them.'

  'A number…?'

  'I'm sure it's in your files somewhere. We were approached by Hussein's people to submit plans for a new airfield after we'd completed one at Qufar in Saudi Arabia. The next day two of your men came to see us, asking technical questions, pressing the point that as Americans it was our duty to relay such information since Hussein frequently conferred with the Soviets—which, of course, was immaterial. An airport's an airport, and any damn fool can fly over an excavation site and determine the configuration.'

  'What was the number?'

  'Manny and the engineer told them that the two main runways were seven miles long, obviously designed for very special flying equipment. They ran out of the office as if both were struck by acute diarrhea.'

  'And?' Swann leaned forward.

  'The next day, Hussein's people called and told us to forget the project. We'd had visitors from Consular Operations. They didn't like that.'

  The deputy director leaned back in his chair, his weary smile conveying futility. 'Sometimes it's all kind of foolish, isn't it?'

  'I don't think it's foolish now,' offered Kendrick.

  'No, of course it isn't.' Swann instantly sat forward in his chair. 'So the way you read it, this whole goddamned thing is all about money. Lousy money!'

  'If it isn't stopped, it'll get worse,' said Kendrick. 'Much worse.'

  'Jesus, how?

  'Because it's a proven formula for economic takeover. Once they've crippled the government in Oman, they'll use the same tactics elsewhere. The Emirates, Bahrain, Qatar, even the Saudis. Whoever controls the fanatics gets the contracts, and with all those massive operations under one entity—regardless of the names they use—there's a dangerous political force in the area calling a lot of vital shots we definitely won't like.'

  'Good Lord, you have thought this out.'

  'I've done nothing else for the past eight hours.'

  'Say I sent you over there, what could you do?'

  'I won't know until I'm there, but I've got a few ideas. I know a number of influential men, powerful Omanis who know what goes on there and who couldn't possibly be any part of this insanity. For various reasons—probably the same mistrust we felt whenever your Cons Op flunkies showed up—they might not talk to strangers but they will talk to me. They trust me. I've spent days, weekends, with their families. I know their unveiled wives and their children—’

  'Unveiled wives and children,' repeated Swann, interrupting. 'The ultimate shorbet in the Arab vocabulary. The broth of friendship.'

  'A harmonious mixture of ingredients,' agreed the congressman from Colorado. 'They'll work with me, perhaps not with you. Also, I'm familiar with most of the suppliers on the docks and in the lading offices, even people who avoid anything official because they make money out of what you can't get officially. I want to trace the money and the instructions that come with the money and end up inside the embassy. Someone somewhere is sending both.'

  'Suppliers?' asked Swann, his eyebrows arched, his voice incredulous. 'You mean like food and medical supplies, that kind of thing?'

  'That's only—’

  'Are you crazy?' exclaimed the deputy director. 'Those hostages are our people!. We've opened the vaults, anything they need, anything we can get to them!'

  'Like bullets and weapons and spare parts for weapons?'

  'Of course not!'

  'From all the accounts I read, what I could get my hands on at the newsstands in Flagstaff and Phoenix, every night after el Maghreb there's four or five hours of fireworks—thousands of rounds shot off, whole sections of the embassy sprayed with rifle and machine-gun fire.'

  'It's part of their goddamned terror!' exploded Swann. 'Can you imagine what it's like inside? Lined up against a wall under floodlights and all around you everything's being blasted with bullets, thinking, “Jesus, I'm going to be killed any second!” If we ever get those poor souls out, they'll be on couches for years trying to get rid of the nightmares!'

  Kendrick let the emotion of the moment pass. 'Those hotheads don't have an arsenal in there, Mr. Swann. I don't think the people running them would allow it. They're supplied. Just as the mimeograph machines are supplied because they don't know how to operate your copiers and word processors for the daily bulletins they print for the television cameras. Please try to understand. Maybe one in twenty of those crazies has a minimum intellect, much less a thought-out ideological position. They're the manipulated dregs of humanity given their own hysterical moments in the sun. Maybe it's our fault, I don't know, but I do know they're being programmed, and you know it, too. And behind that programming is a man who wants all of Southwest Asia to himself.'

  'This Mahdi?'

  'Whoever he is, yes.'

  'You think you can find him?'

  'I'll need help. Getting out of the airport, Arab clothes; I'll make a list.'

  The deputy director again leaned back in his chair, his fingers touching his chin. 'Why, Congressman? Why do you want to do this? Why does Evan Kendrick, multi-millionaire-entrepreneur want to put his very rich life on the line? There's nothing left for you over there. Why?'

  'I suppose the simplest and most honest answer is that I might be able to help. As you've pointed out, I made a lot of money over there. Maybe this is the time to give a little of myself back.'

  'If it was just money or “a little” of yourself, I'd have no trouble with that,' said Swann. 'But if I let you go, you'll be walking into a minefield and no training on how to survive. Has that thought struck you, Congressman? It should have.'

  'I don't intend to storm the embassy,' answered Evan Kendrick.

  'You might not have to. Just ask the wrong person the wrong question and the results could be the same.'

  'I could also be in a cab at Twenty-third Street and Virginia Avenue at noontime today and be in an accident.'

  'I presume that means you were.'

  'The point is I wasn't driving. I was in a taxi. I'm careful, Mr. Swann, and in Masqat, I know my way around the traffic, which isn't as unpredictable as Washington's.'

  'Were you ever in military service?'

  'No.'

  'You were the right age for Vietnam, I'd guess. Any explanation?'

  'I had a graduate school deferment. It kept me out.'

  'Have you ever handled a gun?'

  I've had limited experience.'

  'Which means you know where the trigger is and which end to point.'

  'I said limited, not imbecilic. During the early days in the Emirates, we kept ourselves armed at our construction sites. Sometimes later also.'

  'Ever had to fire one?' pressed the deputy director.

  'Certainly,' replied Kendrick, his voice calm, not risi
ng to the bait. 'So I could learn where the trigger was and which end to point.'

  'Very funny, but what I meant was did you ever have to fire a gun at another human being?'

  'Is this necessary?'

  'Yes, it is. I have to make a judgment.'

  'All right then; yes, I did.'

  'When was that?'

  'When were they,' corrected the congressman. 'Among my partners and our American crew was a geologist, an equipment-logistics man, and several refugees from the Army Corps of Engineers—foreman types. We made frequent trips to potential sites for soil and shale testings and to set up fenced compounds for machinery. We drove a camper, and on several occasions we were attacked by bandits—wandering nomad gangs looking for strays. They've been a problem for years, and the authorities warn everyone heading into the interior to protect themselves. Not much different from any large city over here. I used a gun then.'

  'To frighten or to kill, Mr. Kendrick?'

  'By and large to frighten, Mr. Swann. However, there were times when we had to kill. They wanted to kill us. We reported all such incidents to the authorities.'

  'I see,' said the deputy director of Consular Operations. 'What kind of shape are you in?'

  The visitor shook his head in exasperation. 'I smoke an occasional cigar or a cigarette after a meal, Doctor, and I drink moderately. I do not, however, lift weights or run in marathons. However, again, I do ride Class Five white water and backpack in the mountains whenever I can. I also think this is a bunch of bullshit.'

  'Think what you like, Mr. Kendrick, but we're pressed for time. Simple, direct questions can help us assess a person just as accurately as a convoluted psychiatric report from one of our clinics in Virginia.'

  'Blame that on the psychiatrists.'

  'Tell me about it,' said Swann, with a hostile chuckle.

  'No, you tell me,' countered the visitor. 'Your show-and-tell games are over. Do I go or don't I, and if not, why not?'

  Swann looked up. 'You go, Congressman. Not because you're an ideal choice but because I don't have a choice. I'll try anything, including an arrogant son of a bitch which, under that cool exterior, I think you probably are.'

  'You're probably right,' said Kendrick. 'Can you give me briefing papers on whatever you've got?'

  'They'll be delivered to the plane before takeoff at Andrews Air Force Base. But they can't leave that plane, Congressman, and you can't make any notes. Someone will be watching you.'

  'Understood.'

  'Are you sure? We'll give you whatever deep cover help we can under severe restrictions, but you're a private citizen acting on your own, your political position notwithstanding. In short words, if you're taken by hostile elements, we don't know you. We can't help you then. We won't risk the lives of two hundred and thirty-six hostages. Is that understood?'

  'Yes, it is, because it's directly in line with what I made clear when I walked in here. I want a written guarantee of anonymity. I was never here. I never saw you, and I never talked to you. Send a memo up to the Secretary of State. Say you had a phone call from a political ally of mine in Colorado mentioning my name and telling you that with my background you should get in touch with me. You rejected the approach, believing it was just another politician trying to make mileage out of the State Department—that shouldn't be difficult for you.' Kendrick pulled out a notepad from his jacket pocket and reached over, picking up Swann's pencil. 'Here's the address of my attorney in Washington. Have a copy delivered to him by messenger before I get on the plane at Andrews. When he tells me it's there, I'll get on board.'

  'Our mutual objective here is so clear and so clean I should be congratulating myself,' said Swann. 'So why don't I? Why do I keep thinking there's something you're not telling me?'

  'Because you're suspicious by nature and profession. You wouldn't be in that chair if you weren't.'

  'This secrecy you're so insistent on—’

  'Apparently so are you,' Kendrick broke in.

  'I've given you my reason. There are two hundred and thirty-six people out there. We're not about to give anyone an excuse to pull a trigger. You, on the other hand, if you don't get killed, have a lot to gain. What's your reason for this secrecy?'

  'Not much different from yours,' said the visitor. 'I made a great many friends throughout the whole area. I've kept up with a lot of them; we correspond; they visit me frequently—our associations are no secret. If my name surfaced, some zealots might consider jaremat thadr.'

  'Penalty for friendship,' translated Swann.

  'The climate's right for it,' added Kendrick.

  'I suppose that's good enough,' said the deputy director without much conviction. 'When do you want to leave?'

  'As soon as possible. There's nothing to straighten out here. I'll grab a cab, go home, and change clothes—'

  'No cabs, Congressman. From here on until you get to Masqat you're listed as a government liaison under an available cover and flying military transport. You're under wraps.' Swann reached for his phone. 'You'll be escorted down to the ramp where an unmarked car will drive you home and then on to Andrews. For the next twelve hours you're government property, and you'll do what we tell you to do.'

  Evan Kendrick sat in the back seat of the unmarked State Department car staring out of the window at the lush foliage along the Potomac. Soon the driver would veer to the left and enter a long wooded corridor of Virginia greenery five minutes from his house. His isolated house, he reflected, his very lonely house, despite a live-in couple who were old friends and the discreet, though not excessive, procession of graceful women who shared his bed, also friends.

  Four years and nothing permanent. Permanency for him was half a world away where nothing was permanent but the constant necessity of moving from one job to the next, finding the best quarters available for everyone, and making sure that tutors were available for his partners' children—children he wished at times were his; specific children, of course. But for him there had never been time for marriage and children; ideas were his wives, projects his offspring. Perhaps this was why he had been the leader; he had no domestic distractions. The women he made love to were mostly driven like himself. Again, like himself, they sought the temporary exhilaration, even the comfort, of brief affairs, but the operative word was ‘temporary'. And then in those wonderful years there was the excitement and the laughter, the hours of fear and the moments of elation when a project's results exceeded their expectations. They were building an empire—a small one, to be sure—but it would grow, and in time, as Weingrass insisted, the children of the Kendrick Group would go to the best schools in Switzerland, only a few hours away by air. 'They'll become a boardroom of international mensch!' Manny had roared. 'All that fine education and all those languages. We're rearing the greatest collection of statesmen and stateswomen since Disraeli and Golda!'

  'Uncle Manny, can we go fishing?' a young spokesman would invariably implore, wide-eyed conspirators behind him.

  'Of course, David—such a glorious name. The river is only a few kilometers away. We'll all catch whales, I promise you!'

  'Manny, please.' One of the mothers would invariably object. 'Their homework.'

  'That work is for home—study your syntax. Whales are in the river!'

  All that was permanence for Evan Kendrick. And suddenly it had all been shattered, a thousand broken mirrors in the sunlight, each fragment of bloody glass reflecting an image of lovely reality and wondrous expectations. All the mirrors had turned black, no reflections anywhere. Death.

  'Don't do it!' screamed Emmanuel Weingrass. 'I feel the pain as much as you. But don't you see, it's what they want you to do, expect you to do! Don't give them—don't give him—that gratification! Fight them, fight him! I will fight with you. Show me your posture, boy!'

  'For whom, Manny? Against whom?'

  'You know as well as I do! We're only the first; others will follow. Other “accidents”, loved ones killed, projects abandoned. You will allow that?'

/>   'I simply don't care.'

  'So you let him win?'

  'Who?'

  'The Mahdi!'

  'A drunken rumour, nothing more.'

  'He did it! He killed them! I know it!'

  'There's nothing here for me, old friend, and I can't chase shadows. There's no fun any longer. Forget it, Manny, I'll make you rich.'

  'I don't want your coward money!'

  'You won't take it?'

  'Of course I'll take it. I simply don't love you any more.'

  Then four years of anxiety, futility and boredom, wondering when the warm wind of love or the cold wind of hate would blow across the smouldering coals inside him. He had told himself over and over again that when the fires suddenly erupted, for whatever reason, the time would be right and he would be ready. He was ready now and no one could stop him. Hate.

  The Mahdi.

  You took the lives of my closest friends as surely as if you had installed that conduit yourself. I had to identify so many bodies; the broken, twisted, bleeding bodies of the people who meant so much to me. The hatred remains, and it's deep and cold and won't go away and let me live my life until you're dead. I have to go back and pick up the pieces, be my own self again and finish what all of us were building together. Manny was right. I ran away, forgiving myself because of the pain, forgetting the dreams we had. I'll go back and finish now. I'm coming after you, Mahdi, whoever you are, wherever you are. And no one will know I was there.

  'Sir? Sir, we're here.'

  'I beg your pardon?'

  'This is your house,' said the marine driver. 'I guess you were catching a nap, but we have a schedule to keep.'

  'No nap, Corporal, but, of course, you're right.' Kendrick gripped the handle and opened the door. 'I'll only be twenty minutes or so… Why don't you come in? The maid'll get you a snack or a cup of coffee while you wait.'

  'I wouldn't get out of this car, sir.'

  'Why not?'

  'You're with OHIO. I'd probably get shot.'

  Stunned, and halfway out of the door, Evan Kendrick turned and looked behind him. At the end of the street, the deserted tree-lined street without a house in sight, a lone car was parked at the curb. Inside, two figures sat motionless in the front seat.