Lost Lake

by Phillip Margolin

  “What if I decline, sir?”

  “The work we perform is too sensitive to entrust to any but volunteers.”

  “Can I have some time to think this over?”

  “Of course.” Wingate took a business card out of his pocket. “Call me when you’ve reached a decision. If you accept, simply tell me that you’ll be in town soon and would like to have dinner. I’ll arrange for weekend leave.”

  The General changed the topic of conversation and called for an after-dinner drink. Carl declined but accepted a cup of coffee. He wanted to be clearheaded. Half an hour later he was in the backseat of the General’s town car on the way to the airport. Carl did not sleep during the flight back to Fort Bragg.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “How long did it take you to decide to join the Unit?” Ami asked.

  “About a week. The General had been up-front with me. He told me I would be breaking the law at times. That bothered me.”

  “But you went ahead anyway?”

  “I was young. I was excited about the Unit’s elite status. And there was Wingate. You have no idea what that man’s approval meant to me. I was thrilled that he’d been watching my progress and had chosen me for this special duty. I couldn’t disappoint him.”

  “What happened after you contacted Wingate?”

  “Nothing for about a month. Then I was transferred to the Army Language School at Fort Meyer, Virginia. I lived off post in an apartment. Most of the time, I studied Thai and Vietnamese. I needed the flexibility a student has because my orders came at irregular intervals. In my free time I kept in shape, kept up my martial arts training, and lived the type of life most students lead.”

  “How did you get your assignments?”

  “I would receive a phone call. It would be a wrong number or a solicitation call. I’d drive to a prearranged location, usually very late at night, sometimes after midnight. A lot of times it would be a room at a motel or a parking lot of a crowded mall. We never met at the same place twice.”

  “This is Wingate you’re talking about?”

  “Oh, no, not the General.” Rice’s features darkened. “There was only one time that I received an order from him.”

  “Then who…?”

  “The man who acted as my control was General Peter Rivera.”

  “Do you know where I can find him? Would he help you?”

  Rice looked at Ami. “General Rivera was murdered in 1986. The police think I killed him.”

  “Did you?”

  “No, but there is a lot of evidence connecting me to the crime.”

  Ami felt uneasy. She didn’t completely believe Carl’s protestations of innocence.

  “What were your first assignments like?”

  “They were mostly in Vietnam. I told you about ambushing the mule trains. I did that a few times. I also infiltrated North Vietnamese villages on several occasions. Twice I was teamed with Special Forces pony teams who thought I was with the Phoenix program. On one mission I was led to my target by a North Vietnamese national who worked for the CIA.”

  “What did you do on these missions?”

  “I used a sniper rifle to take out a military officer during one mission. In the other two, I terminated Communist Party officials.”

  “By shooting them?”

  Carl shook his head. “I crawled into their huts at night and slit their throats.”

  Ami turned pale.

  “My war was very personal, Ami. I looked into the eyes of the men I killed.”

  “Were…were you still in the Unit when you went AWOL in 1986?”

  “Yes.”

  “But the Vietnam War must have ended a few years after you joined.”

  “The Unit still had its uses after we left Vietnam. The communists didn’t go away. There was still the cold war.”

  “How did your missions change?”

  “There was more espionage. I investigated suspected spies; I used my intelligence skills to bug embassies.” Rice smiled coldly. “I also bugged congressmen and officials of the United States government.”

  “Americans?”

  Rice nodded. “I wasn’t told what use was made of the information I collected, but I noticed that some of the senators or representatives I had under surveillance changed their votes on certain bills or initiated legislation that went against their former voting patterns. I also found it interesting that the General remained the head of the AIDC no matter who was president.”

  “Did you ever…were there more assassinations?”

  Rice nodded.

  “Was this in Vietnam still?”

  “No. The focus changed. There was a Russian agent in Madrid, some people who were working for the Chinese.”

  “How did you…?”

  “I stabbed the Russian to death in an alley behind a bar and I…I shot the two subjects who were working for the Chinese.”

  “How many people have you killed, Carl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t it…bother you?”

  Carl took a sip of water while he considered her question.

  “At first, no. I had never killed anyone before we went after the electronics equipment in that Navy plane. During the mission I was so scared and exhausted that I was running on instinct, like an animal. Then the patrol boat rescued us. I was fed, I was given dry clothes, and I got some sleep. After I woke up I went on deck. I remember sitting with my back against the pilothouse wall, feeling safe for the first time in days. The jungle was quiet and beautiful. I was completely at peace. That’s when it occurred to me that I had killed several men.

  “In training, I wondered if I would freeze, but I hadn’t panicked. I realized that I hadn’t thought about the killing at all. I’d just done what I was trained to do. The act of killing had not been a cosmic event. There was nothing philosophical about it. In the heat of battle it was simply a choice between them and me.”

  “This was in combat, though,” Ami said. “You told me that you killed the Russian by…you stabbed him to death. And the Chinese spies, that wasn’t in the heat of battle. Did you feel differently about those killings?”

  “You want to know if I felt remorse?”

  “Yes.”

  “The people I killed were the enemy, and it was my job to kill the enemy, but I never enjoyed it. I believed I was doing the right thing. That helped me deal with what I’d done. But the longer it went on…” Carl paused. His eyes dropped to the covers on his hospital bed. “I had bad dreams. I had doubts.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WASHINGTON, D.C./ LOST LAKE, CALIFORNIA/ ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA-1986

  1

  Carl had met his date in a singles bar the previous Saturday. She was attractive and shy and sweet. Even if their relationship got off the ground, Carl knew that it would end within months, as always. Usually the women called it quits when they grew tired of his sudden disappearances, his moodiness, or his inability to display any real emotions. Whenever the woman wanted something permanent, Carl would pull the plug. Sex without strings was a good way to forget, if only for a short time, the vivid memories that were starting to creep into his head more frequently, even when he was not asleep.

  Carl always chose an upscale Vietnamese restaurant near Dupont Circle for the first date. He had just finished impressing the young woman by ordering in Vietnamese when Vanessa Wingate came in on the arm of a man who could have stepped right out of GQ. She was more beautiful than his memory of her. The years had given Vanessa’s youthful features character and turned her teenage figure into the body of a mature woman.

  Carl’s date was asking him where he had learned Vietnamese. They all did, so he was able to tell her his programmed answer while he stood up.

  “Will you excuse me for a minute?” Carl asked. “I just spotted an old friend I haven’t seen in years.”

  Carl’s date followed his gaze. She kept smiling and said, “Sure,” but Carl would have known that she wasn’t happy if he’d been paying any a
ttention. By the time he was halfway to the maitre d’s station he had forgotten that he was on a date.

  Seconds before he reached her, Vanessa saw Carl pushing through the crowd. They hadn’t seen each other since high school, and confusion flickered across her face at first. Then Carl saw amazement and finally what he had been hoping for, a wide smile of welcome.

  “My God!” Vanessa said. Her date looked at her, then followed her eyes and saw Carl.

  “Vanessa,” Carl said, smiling as broadly as his former lover.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I live in D.C. Well, in Virginia, really. Are you living here or just visiting?”

  “I’m in Georgetown.”

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Vanessa’s date asked, annoyed at being left out of the conversation.

  “Sorry. Bob Coyle, this is Carl Rice, an old friend.”

  “Glad to meet you, Carl.”

  Coyle’s crushing handshake told Carl firmly and clearly that Coyle was an alpha male protecting his mate. Carl let Coyle stake out his territory by submitting to the painful pressure. He could see that Vanessa’s date wanted him to leave, and he didn’t want to spoil her evening.

  “Look, I’m with someone,” Carl said, “but I’d love to catch up on old times. How can I get in touch with you?”

  Coyle scowled when Vanessa told Carl her home phone number.

  “Nice meeting you, Bob,” Carl said as he returned to his table. As soon as he was seated, Carl explained that Vanessa was an old high school friend. His date accepted the explanation and renewed her question about Carl’s knowledge of Vietnamese. Carl kept her entranced with war stories-most of them lies-but he could not stop thinking about Vanessa.

  2

  Vanessa was sitting at a quiet table in the back of a bistro just a few blocks from her apartment in Georgetown. She was dressed in a tan pantsuit and white silk blouse and looked terrific. Carl was wearing gray slacks, an Oxford blue shirt, and a blazer. His hair was shaggy and he looked more like a young lawyer than a member of the armed forces.

  When Carl reached the table Vanessa stood up and hugged him. It was the type of brief, businesslike hug that you get from the hostess at a cocktail party who doesn’t know you very well. Carl deduced that Vanessa had gotten over the shock of seeing him appear out of nowhere and had remembered the circumstances of their parting.

  “Gee, you look great,” he said.

  “So do you. Still keeping up with your karate?”

  He nodded. “And you played tennis in college, right?”

  “College was a long time ago, Carl. I started the year you went off to war.”

  Vanessa spoke the last sentence with a trace of bitterness. Carl looked her in the eye.

  “The military has been good to me, Van.”

  “It must have been if you’re still in.”

  Carl changed the subject quickly. “So tell me, in twenty-five words or less, what have you been doing for the past-what is it-twelve, thirteen years?”

  “Something like that.” Vanessa thought for a moment. “Well, I guess the biggie was my marriage.”

  “To that guy at the restaurant?”

  Vanessa laughed. “No. Bob’s a lawyer for a congressional committee. I’m working for a congressman. I met him about a month ago at a hearing.”

  “So you’re not married now?”

  Vanessa looked solemn. “It didn’t take. I should have known it wouldn’t. His main qualification was that the General despised him. Inertia kept us together for years, but the marriage was over almost as soon as it started.”

  “On the phone you said that you’re back at school?”

  “Nights.”

  “What are you studying?”

  “Law. Isn’t that what every divorcee studies after the marriage goes south?”

  “Working and going to night school must be tough.”

  “It’s a grind but school comes easy to me.”

  “It always did,” Carl said, “except for calculus.”

  Vanessa looked sad. “Yeah, except for calculus. So, what are you doing in the army?”

  “I’m teaching at the language school at Fort Meyers.”

  “Oh? What languages?”

  “Vietnamese and Thai.”

  “I guess I know where you learned them.”

  Carl lowered his eyes when he answered, the way he’d practiced it.

  “I had some bad experiences in ’Nam, very rough times. Once I got back stateside, a teaching assignment sounded pretty good.” He smiled. “Actually, I’m glad I took it. I’ve enjoyed teaching at the language school and I’ve made some good contacts at a number of universities. I’ll be retiring pretty young and I should be able to teach at any number of places.”

  “Well, I’m happy for you.”

  “Are you happy, Van?” Carl asked softly.

  “That’s a very personal question, Carl. At one time I would have given you an answer, but that time was long ago. I don’t think we know each other well enough now.”

  Carl felt his facade begin to crack. He hadn’t expected the old feelings to come back with such intensity.

  “I know I hurt you, Van, but that was a long time ago. I would like to get to know you again,” he said.

  “You’re seeing me now, aren’t you?” she said.

  3

  Carl and Vanessa started eating dinner near the House office building once or twice a month. Sometimes he would wait for her at the law school when her classes let out and they would go for coffee. The meetings were infrequent and were get-togethers rather than dates. There were times when Carl was tempted to try for something more, but being with Vanessa stirred conflicting feelings in him. When they were together he soared but he also struggled with guilt because he had not told her that he was still working for her father and he was keeping her in the dark about the true nature of his service. He also harbored an irrational belief that he was betraying the General because he had not told him about seeing his daughter. Not that he had many chances to talk to Morris Wingate. Since joining the Unit he had met Wingate on only a few occasions. Wingate had explained how dangerous it was for any member of the Unit to be seen with him. There were spies everywhere.

  Carl had been thinking about quitting the Unit for a while. He had been risking his life for more than ten years and he wondered if he was losing his edge. If he quit now he could get a teaching job at a good university. Maybe Vanessa would marry him and they could settle down. They would have kids and she would have an interesting career. It would be a quiet existence, but Carl thought that he could get used to life with two point five children, a dog, and a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. He fooled himself into believing that he could move from hell to Eden without Vanessa’s learning about his secret life.

  4

  A persistent knocking on her front door awakened Vanessa from a deep sleep. She called out, “I’m coming,” as she struggled into her robe. When she looked through the peephole she saw Carl Rice standing in the hall. Vanessa was surprised because she had not seen or spoken to Carl for three weeks.

  “Please, Vanessa, open up,” Carl begged after knocking again. Vanessa didn’t want Carl to wake her neighbors so she unlocked the door. Carl staggered in. He was unshaven, his clothes looked as if he’d slept in them, and his eyes were wild.

  “What do you want, Carl?” Vanessa asked.

  “I have to talk to you.”

  “It’s after midnight. Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?”

  I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but I don’t know what to do.”

  Vanessa took a hard look at her visitor. Carl looked like a man who might do something desperate.

  “Do about what?” Vanessa asked.

  “Can I sit down?” Carl asked. “I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept in days.”

  Vanessa stepped aside and Carl slumped onto the couch and laid his head back.

  “I can’t do it anymore,” he said. “I’ve got to
get out.”

  “Get out of what?”

  “I lied to you,” he said. “I couldn’t tell you the truth, so I lied, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I want you to know what I am, Van. I’m a killer. I kill for your father, and I want to stop.”

  Vanessa couldn’t breathe.

  “You’re the only one who can possibly understand,” Carl said.

  “What is it you want me to understand?”

  “I’ve done terrible things.”

  “And you want what, forgiveness?”

  “I’m beyond that.”

  Vanessa felt a twinge of fear. Aside from a general explanation of the work of the AIDC her father had never told her what he did. She’d had her suspicions-why did he need armed guards wherever he went? — but she never allowed herself to think beyond that.

  “I’ve been so happy since we reconnected,” Carl told her. “I thought I could start over with you. But almost everything I’ve told you was a lie. Then they gave me another assignment. It was very bad. I want to stop now. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I went to Texas. There was a Chinese woman. Her parents immigrated to Massachusetts when she was nine. She worked on a top-secret project. I don’t know what she did exactly.” Vanessa realized that Carl was talking about the woman in the past tense and started to feel sick. “They said she was a spy, a very dangerous spy, who was passing secrets to the Chinese. The Chinese had co-opted her. She was a threat to our country.”

  “And you…?”

  Carl forced himself to look at Vanessa. He had vowed to tell her everything and he would not back down.

  “I shot her in the eye. She was sleeping. I broke into their house and killed them.”

  “There was someone else?”

  Carl nodded. His voice cracked. “Her husband. He was a captain in the army.”