One of the women screamed, and Tarankov shot her twice in the chest, knocking her off her feet.
In the next seconds a half-dozen of Tarankov’s commandoes opened fire on the remaining prisoners who madly tried to scramble out of the way, cutting them down before they could get more than a step or two.
When the firing stopped, the crowd went totally wild, cheering and hooting in a frenzy of bloodlust, that seemed as if it had the power to continue unabated for hours if not days.
Tarankov holstered his pistol, then turned to his people and raised his hands. Almost immediately the crowd fell silent.
“I HAVE A VISION FOR THE FUTURE OF THE RODINA WHICH I WILL SHARE WITH YOU TODAY, COMRADES,” he began.
McGarvey glanced over at Chernov who was staring at him, and he let all expression drain from his face except for one of love and admiration. Tarankov was his hope too.
But one thing was certain. Tarankov was not going to wait until the general elections in June to take over the government. He would almost certainly make his move much sooner than that, and McGarvey had a good idea exactly when that would be.
EIGHTEEN
Chevy Chase, Maryland
Pulling into the driveway of her mother’s two story colonial across from the country club at 9:00 A.M., Elizabeth felt like death warmed over, yet she was more alive than she’d ever been. She was working for Operations, and if everything went right she’d soon be working with her father. It couldn’t have been better, though she had to find him first, and keep Ryan’s goons away from him until they figured out what their next moves would be.
It had been after midnight by the time she was able to go home and then she hadn’t got much sleep. They’d set her up with a false passport and a complete legend under the name Elizabeth Swanson, from New York City. Her contact procedures were direct to Tom Moore on a blind number. When she went to France she was supposed to report to the COS Tom Lynch.
Between photo sessions and briefings, Elizabeth had managed to get back down to her own computer console. Toivich was gone for the evening, and no one else in the section had been told yet that she no longer worked for the DI. With her new operational designation it only took fifteen minutes to get into the archival section for former personnel where she called up her father’s extensive file. Within the first five minutes of reading, her mouth had dropped open and stayed there until she was called back upstairs around ten.
Her father was James Bond personified. He’d been everywhere, done everything, and had accomplished in spades every single assignment he’d ever been given. Four presidents had given him secret citations, and every DCI and DDO, except for Ryan, gave him glowing marks. If she’d read correctly between the lines, her father had literally saved the country from war in the Pacific eighteen months ago. Before that he’d saved Los Angeles and San Francisco from a nuclear attack by a Japanese terrorist. Although he’d not been on the Company’s payroll for years, it seemed that each time the CIA got itself into a jam, they called on her father to help them out.
He’d been wounded numerous times, had lost a kidney in one operation, and Phil Carrara, a former boss who had himself been killed in the line of duty, had written that more than any other person in the CIA, McGarvey had done the most to help win the Cold War, a sentiment even President Lindsay wholeheartedly endorsed.
Several times during her reading, she had to choke back tears. Her father had given his entire life to his country, but in public he was a nothing, and in private Howard Ryan, the third most powerful man in America’s intelligence community, despised him. On top of that he thought that his parents had been spies. A shame that he’d carried with him for all of his adult life.
There was so much that she wanted to say to him, so many things she wanted to tell him, so much she wanted to know, but none of it mattered one whit to her. The only thing that mattered was that she loved him with all of her soul. More now than when she was a little girl and fantasized about him and her mother getting back together. So much that she could hardly contain herself from bubbling over.
Her mother, wearing a white bathrobe, her hair bundled up in a towel, opened the front door of the house and beckoned to her.
Elizabeth got out of her car and hurried up the walk to her mother, and pecked her on the cheek. “Hi, Mother.”
“What are you doing here in Washington, and why didn’t you come right in? Why were you sitting there like a lump on a log?” Kathleen McGarvey demanded. She was almost as tall as her daughter, and even more beautiful in a classic sense. Her neck was long, her features sharply defined, her lips full, her high cheekbones delicately arched, and her eyes brilliantly green. Although she was nearly fifty, she could have passed for a haute couture fashion model anywhere in the world. Her beauty was timeless, like Audrey Hepburn’s and Jackie Kennedy’s had been.
“I was trying to figure out the best way of telling you what I have to tell you. There’s so much of it, I don’t know where to start.”
They went inside, and Kathleen gave her daughter a sharply appraising look. “Good heavens you’re not pregnant, are you, dear?”
“No, Mother, I’m not pregnant. But if I were I’d be at an abortion clinic, not here. I’m not ready to have kids.”
Kathleen patted down a strand of her daughter’s hair. “No, I don’t expect you are ready,” she said wistfully. “Nor am I quite ready to become a grandmother. Now, when did you get into Washington?” she asked as they went into the kitchen.
The coffee was ready, and Elizabeth got them a couple of cups. “About six months ago.”
“Oh?” Kathleen said, pouring the coffee.
Elizabeth perched on one of the stools at the counter across from her mother, and sipped her coffee. She could have used a cigarette, but that was something she definitely wasn’t ready to tell her mother. “I got a job here in town, but I wanted to wait until I was sure it was going to work out before I told you about it.”
Kathleen sipped delicately at her coffee. “Would you care for something to eat, Elizabeth? I could warm up some cinnamon rolls, you like those.”
“Just coffee, Mom.”
“Mother,” Kathleen corrected automatically. She didn’t like abbreviations or diminutives. Elizabeth, not Liz. And Kathleen, not Katy. It was a habit she’d never been able to break her husband of.
“Sorry,” Elizabeth mumbled, lowering her eyes.
“I see,” Kathleen said. “Look at me please.”
Elizabeth looked up.
“I’m not going to like what you’re going to tell me very much, am I?”
“Probably not. I’m working for the Central Intelligence Agency. In the Directorate of Operations, just like Daddy.”
Kathleen’s composure slipped a little, but she brought it back. “Your father has done very good, even great things for his country. I’m sure you know that. But do you know exactly what his job was?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then I only hope for your sake that you don’t exactly follow in his footsteps, Elizabeth. But I’m sure that you will do very well at whatever it is they want you to do.” It was a brave speech, but Kathleen had to turn away, her eyes glistening.
“I’m sorry, Mother. But it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”
“I would have thought that after Greece you would have changed your mind.”
Four years ago Elizabeth and her mother had been kidnapped by an organization of former East German intelligence officers who wanted to force McGarvey into a trap and kill him. But her father had beat them all. The experience had nearly destroyed her mother.
“Greece made me want it even more.”
“I see,” Kathleen said, once again facing her daughter. “So you came this morning to break the news to me, is that it? Or is there more?”
“I came to ask for your help. I’m trying to find Daddy.”
“He’s in Paris at his old apartment.”
“He’s gone. We think he’s in hiding.”
Elizabeth was shocked to the bottom of her soul. Never in her life had she heard her mother utter a swearword, let alone a combination like that. Her mouth dropped open for the second time in the past twelve hours.
“Close your mouth, dear,” Kathleen said, and she picked up the telephone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Roland Murphy. And if I don’t get satisfaction from him, I’ll call Jim Lindsay.”
“Mother, you can’t call the DCI and you can’t call the President. I volunteered for this assignment, and I’ll do it with or without you. But Daddy needs my help and I’m going to give it to him. His life could depend on it.”
Kathleen put the telephone down. “Listen to me, darling. I know Howard Ryan. He’s a pompous ass, but he’s a powerful pompous ass who is an expert at manipulating people. He has a grudge against your father, and he means to use you to get back at him.”
“I didn’t think you knew that much about Daddy’s career.”
“I’m not stupid, Elizabeth. I hear things and I see things. But just because I cannot live with your father, doesn’t mean I stopped loving him.”
Elizabeth’s throat was tight, and her stomach hollow. “Why,” she asked softly.
“I cannot live with an … assassin.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you still loved Daddy.”
“You weren’t ready,” Kathleen said. She studied her daughter’s face. “I’m not certain you’re ready yet. But Howard Ryan is a dangerous man, darling.”
“All the more reason for me to find my father as soon as I can. I have to warn him.”
Again Kathleen studied her daughter’s face. “You are your father’s daughter. Stubborn.”
“You dig your heels in too, Mother.”
Kathleen smiled wanly. “If he’s gone into hiding he won’t be out of touch. He always arranges for a contact who can keep him informed with what’s happening on the outside. He told me that one of his worst fears was dying alone and being buried in an unmarked grave somewhere.”
“What did you say to him, Mother?”
“I told him to get out of the service, of course.”
“What would you tell him now?”
“The same thing, Elizabeth. The same thing I’m telling you. The Cold War is over. We won it. There’s no compelling reason any longer to maintain such a large intelligence service.”
Elizabeth wanted to hate her mother, but she could not. She couldn’t even feel sorry for her, because from her mother’s point she was correct. She decided not to say anything about Grandma and Grandpa.
“Until last year your father was involved with a woman here in Washington. She’s a lobbyist for the airline industry. Her name is Dominique Kilbourne. She might know something.”
“Was she involved with Daddy’s last assignment?”
“I believe so.”
“Will she know who I am?”
Kathleen smiled. “I can’t imagine your father not talking about you.”
“One more favor, Mother,” Elizabeth said. “I’d like to borrow one of your credit cards for awhile. I want to get to Paris without leaving a track.”
Kathleen hesitated.
“I’ll pay you back, Mother, I promise.”
“Of course I’ll give you one of my credit cards. It’s not that, darling. You’re my only child and I want you to be safe.”
“None of us are safe, Mother.”
“Your father says that.”
“I know,” Elizabeth said.
Elizabeth called the reference desk at the public library from a pay phone and had the woman look up the address of Dominique Kilbourne’s office in the list of registered lobbyists. It turned out to be an entire floor of a solid five story building off Thomas Circle, a few blocks from the Russian Embassy.
It was past 11:30 A.M., by the time she presented herself to the receptionist.
“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked.
“No. But I just need a few minutes of her time. It’s important.”
“I’m sorry, but Ms. Kilbourne’s schedule is completely full today and for the remainder of the week.” The secretary touched a few keys on her computer. “I can fit you in next week. Wednesday at two in the afternoon.”
“Tell Ms. Kilbourne that Elizabeth McGarvey is here.”
Something crossed the secretary’s expression. “Just a moment, please,” she said, and she got up and went inside.
Elizabeth stepped around the desk so that she could read the computer screen. Dominique Kilbourne’s schedule was tight. She was scheduled to be at lunch with a congressional group at the Senate dining room in twenty-five minutes.
The receptionist returned a minute later. “She’ll see you now. It’s the last door at the end of the hall.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to expect, but she wasn’t disappointed. Dominique Kilbourne was pretty, with a pleasantly narrow face, short dark hair, coal-black eyes and a slight figure. She looked like a decisive, take-charge woman.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Ms. Kilbourne,” Elizabeth said.
Dominique motioned her to a seat in front of a starkly modern brass and glass desk. The office was of moderate size, but extremely well furnished, with a couple of Picasso prints on the walls, a large luxurious oriental rug on a marble tiled floor, and large windows with a good view toward the White House. “You come as something of a surprise.”
“I’m trying to locate my father. My mother thought you might know where he is.”
Dominique stiffened. “The last I heard your father was going to Paris. That was more than a year ago. Beyond that I can’t help you, or your mother.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to have it come out like that. This has nothing to do with my mother. I simply want to find my father, and I was hoping that you might know something.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. McGarvey, I don’t,” Dominique said. She picked up her telephone. “Sandy, get me a cab, please. I’ll be leaving in a minute or two.”
“Ms. Kilbourne, I work for the Central Intelligence Agency. I think I could get an FBI Counterespionage unit down here to bring you in for questioning about a national security matter.”
“Go ahead,” Dominique said, unperturbed, hanging up.
“I work for Mr. Ryan, and I think he could pull a few strings.”
“Howard Ryan is an ungrateful son of a bitch whose life your father saved,” Dominique blurted angrily. “I was there, I saw it. So you can go back to Langley and tell him that if he wants to find Kirk McGarvey he can do it on his own. I certainly won’t help him. Or you.”
Elizabeth was a little embarrassed, but she didn’t let it show. “I don’t know why I should be surprised by your reaction, Ms. Kilbourne. My father has terrible luck with women, but the ones he’s attracted to are as strong willed as they are beautiful.”
“Thank you for the compliment, if that’s what it is, but I still can’t help you,” Dominique said coolly. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have a luncheon appointment.”
Elizabeth glanced at the wall clock. “You have fifteen minutes to get to the Senate dining room, so you should have Sandy call over there and tell them you’ll be late for lunch because something else has come up. It’s a family emergency.”
“Get out of here.”
“You’re going to help me find my father for the same reasons I have to find him before Ryan does. You’re in love with him, or at least you were.”
Elizabeth had been guessing, but Dominique reacted as if she’d been shot, some of the light fading from her eyes.
“My father has a habit of walking out on the people he loves most, not because he wants to be mean, but because he wants to protect us. Being around him can be dangerous.”
“You’re telling me.”
“This tim
e his life is on the line. I have some information that he has to have. Without it he could be walking into a trap.”
“Your father is an amazing man,” Dominique said.
“Yes, he is, Ms. Kilbourne,” Elizabeth said. “But he’s just that. Only a man. Will you help me?”
Dominique thought a moment, then picked up the phone again. “Sandy, cancel that cab. Then call Senator Dobson and give him my apologies, but I won’t be able to have lunch with him today. See if we can reschedule for later in the week.” Dominique looked at Elizabeth. “Everything is fine. But cancel my appointments for the remainder of the afternoon as well.”
“All that isn’t necessary,” Elizabeth said when Dominique hung up. “I don’t need your entire afternoon.”
“I do,” Dominique said bitterly. She went to a sideboard where she opened a bottle of white wine from a small refrigerator, poured two glasses, and brought them back.
“Thank you, Ms. Kilbourne,” Elizabeth said, taking one of the glasses.
“We better start using first names, otherwise it’s going to become awkward,” Dominique said. She gave Elizabeth a bleak look. “I can see a lot of your father in your face, and in your voice. But I thought you were working for the United Nations.”
“I just started with the Company about six months ago. My father doesn’t know yet.”
Dominique managed a faint smile. “I have a feeling he’ll go through the roof when he does find out.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you’re right. But first I have to find him.”
Dominique’s face had sagged, but she picked herself up. “You father hurt me very much.”
“I’m sorry.”
Dominique waved her off. “It has nothing to do with you, except that he said the same thing to me last year that you just said. Being around him is dangerous. There are a lot of people from his past who could be gunning for him. There are a lot of old grudges on both sides of the Atlantic. Now you.”
“Have you heard from him in the past year?”
Assassin Page 19
