Call to Treason o-11

by Tom Clancy

  “We did,” Link said. “Detective Howell was reluctant to move against Orr without conclusive evidence.”

  “He could have seen the wound.”

  “That would not have implicated Orr,” Link said. “Just Lucy, who was doomed anyway because she gave Wilson and Lawless the injections. Besides, Howell was being blackmailed—”

  “The gay date rape charge.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You could have gone to the FBI, or given the information to Scotland Yard,” Rodgers said.

  “Lucy still would have taken the hit,” Link said. “And if she pointed fingers, Kat would have been implicated. Willingly, I might add. She is devoted to the senator. Orr might have been splashed with blood by association, but maybe not enough to derail him. Which voters would have mourned an arrogant, successful, anti-American British entrepreneur? No, Mike. We needed to stop Orr permanently.”

  “And how would you have done that? By killing him?”

  “If necessary,” Link admitted. “You don’t understand, Mike. I’ve been watching this guy since I was in naval intelligence. I used to sit in on hearings of the Senate Armed Services Committee. The man I saw in these meetings was not the benign Texan ordinary Joe he presented to the voters. He reminded me of Joseph McCarthy. Xenophobic, suspicious, aggressive. He said that whenever he went home, he took walks in the desert and had visions of what he thought America should be. ‘Fortress America,’ he called it. Our national borders not just secure but closed, our resources maximized, our enemies cut off from financial aid, crushed, or left to beat each other to death. What he was selling to the American public was a cleaner version of that. But I knew he intended to accomplish that by any means necessary.”

  “So he was McCarthy and Stalin,” Rodgers said. “Neat trick.”

  “You don’t believe me? Ask anyone who was at those meetings,” Link went on. “Ultimately, I was the only one in a position to do something about it. I watched him with the help of Kendra and Eric. When the mood of the country turned isolationist and Orr saw a real opportunity to win the presidency, he took it. That was when we made our move as well.”

  “You got close to him in order to stop him.”

  “That’s right,” Link said. “I had two options. I could have taken him out before he hit Wilson, but that would have made him a martyr to like-minded isolationists. So we chose to let him hook himself, then just reel him in. At the Company we ran operations like this worldwide.”

  “I understand all that,” Rodgers said. “What I don’t understand is why you tried to run this on your own.”

  “How many people do you let in on a top secret operation?”

  “That depends,” Rodgers said. He was growing angry. “If my option was to trust someone like Paul Hood or blow up his goddamn organization, I’d trust Paul Hood with my secret.”

  “But you were also working with Orr and Kat!” Link said. “You went out with her. We didn’t know how you felt about them. If we told Hood, he might have told you, and you might have told the senator. You and I weren’t exactly getting along, Mike. I was pushing to find out where you stood.”

  “Talking would have worked better.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Not maybe,” Rodgers snapped. “Your decision killed one of my people!”

  “I’m always sorry about collateral damage!” Link shot back. “But politics is war, and in wartime, people die. Innocent people. I read your file, General. You have seen that firsthand. We’re soldiers, and our primary job is to defend our nation. Sometimes decisions have to be made quickly. They have to be made by people under stress, by people who are trying to keep one eye on the endgame and one eye on the best way to get there. That is what I did.”

  “You rolled a tank over your own soldiers,” Rodgers said.

  “That happens, too, doesn’t it?” Link said.

  “In retreat, when the battle plan is in disarray,” Rodgers said.

  “Whatever disarray we experienced was Op-Center’s doing!” Link said, raising his own voice. “We needed a few more days to carry this operation out, to make sure that Orr was stopped. I made a command decision about Op-Center. We used the EM bomb instead of conventional explosives because we didn’t want casualties. Your man was not supposed to be in the room when it went off.”

  “Another indication that you made the wrong decision,” Rodgers said.

  “We stopped Orr, didn’t we?”

  “Sure.” Rodgers motioned the marines over. “Can you stand, Admiral?”

  Link rose. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you to the San Diego PD,” Rodgers said. “This is for them to sort out with the D.C. Metro Police.”

  “Right. I would like to know one thing, though. You do understand what we did, don’t you?”

  The marines arrived, and the admiral suddenly seemed like a different man. It was not uncertainty in his voice, or regret. Perhaps it was a hint of fear as the reality of his situation settled in.

  “Why does it matter what I think?” the general asked.

  “Things didn’t exactly work out the way I planned,” Link replied. “I’ve got one hell of a drop in front of me. A lonely drop.” He grinned uneasily. “You’re a scholar. Who was it who said that solitude is great if you’re a wild beast or a god?”

  “Francis Bacon said that,” Rodgers told him. The general moved in closer. “Admiral, I understand what you did. I just don’t agree. A nation is defined by its laws, not by vigilantes and rogue operations. You hurt people to enforce your own vision of the greater good.”

  “What about saving the nation from a tyrant? You don’t think that was a worthwhile goal?”

  “It has been one of the greatest goals of some of the greatest men in history,” Rodgers said. He was trying to give the admiral something. “I just don’t agree that the shortest path is always the best one. The singular thing about this nation is that we make mistakes but invariably correct them. Maybe Orr would have become a political force. He might even have become president. But the national mood would have shifted. We are a rough and impatient people, but we ultimately do the right thing.”

  Link’s grin turned knowing. “So you would have ratted us out to Orr, wouldn’t you? Talking instead of pushing — is that what you would have preferred?”

  Rodgers did not answer. He did not know.

  “I am content, then,” Link said. “I did the right thing.”

  The Apache had landed in the clearing, and Rodgers told the marines to escort the admiral toward it. The general followed them. He thought about Link’s question as he walked.

  He had a feeling he would be thinking about it for quite some time.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  San Diego, California

  Thursday, 8:33 A.M.

  The Apache landed at Pendleton, where Link was handed over to the military police. They, in turn, made arrangements to have him transferred to the San Diego police. The charge, for now, was fraudulent claim of kidnapping. It was based entirely on Rodgers’s report that Link had maintained the deception for roughly one minute after he had been rescued. It was a very minor charge, but it was all they had for now. More would follow after Eric Stone had seen an attorney and made his own statement. He and Kendra were also in custody of the SDPD.

  After the admiral’s arrest, Rodgers returned to Senator Orr’s suite. Kat and the senator were still there. The senator had recovered somewhat and was lucid enough to thank Rodgers for his quick action.

  “I hope you don’t believe any of Eric’s ranting,” Kat said.

  “Yes,” Orr added. “I understand he was quite out of his head.”

  Rodgers said no, of course not. This was obviously a plot created by Admiral Link, who had a long-standing grudge against the senator. They agreed that Senator Orr would not attempt to speak to the convention until the next day. Kat went down and, from the podium, told the attendees that the situation was still being investigated but that Link had been recovered and Senator
Orr would speak to them the next day. Rodgers went with her to make sure she did what she said she was going to do. While Orr rested, Kat went back to her suite to write Orr a speech. Hotel security was stationed outside their door to protect them against further attacks.

  And to make sure they stayed in their rooms.

  Meanwhile, Rodgers called Darrell McCaskey. Rodgers brought him up to speed and told him what he needed to tie this one up.

  The following morning, at Rodgers’s suggestion, he met Kat and Orr for breakfast in the senator’s suite. There was a knock on the door, and Kat went to answer.

  “I’m starving,” she said with a big smile.

  The smile crashed when she opened the door. Detective Robert Howell was standing there with a detective and six officers from the San Diego Police Department. He was holding two manila envelopes. The local detective stepped forward. She was a young woman with steely eyes and a gentle but insistent voice. She was also holding a pair of envelopes.

  “Ms. Kat Lockley?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am Detective Lynn Mastio. We have a warrant issued by Judge Andrew Zucker this morning in the county of San Diego ordering your detention on the suspicion of planning and abetting two acts of homicide.”

  Senator Orr stepped forward. He looked from Detective Mastio to Detective Howell. “Bob, does this young lady know who I am?”

  “I do, sir,” Detective Mastio replied. “You are Senator Donald Orr. I have a warrant for your detention as well, Senator.”

  “Detention?” Orr snapped. “Are you saying we are under arrest?”

  “No, Senator. Formal charges will not be filed until we have had a chance to further review the evidence that has been presented, Senator,” Mastio replied.

  “We have a convention to run!” Kat said. “You have no right to walk in with accusations based on hearsay and interfere with our work.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mastio told her. “We do have that right.”

  Orr turned back to Howell. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I have extradition papers,” Howell said. He raised the envelopes. “If you are arrested for crimes that may have been committed in our jurisdiction, we will be bringing you to D.C. for arraignment.”

  “This is the most outlandish and offensive thing I have ever heard!” the senator barked. “I am the one who was assaulted here! Link and his accomplices are the ones you should be talking to!”

  Orr seemed anxious to turn away, to throw his position and reputation against the problem and make it go away. Howell seemed equally determined to prevent that. When Rodgers had called McCaskey to suggest the detective fly out, Op-Center’s top law officer seemed eager to make that happen.

  “I find it odd that neither of you asked who was murdered,” Rodgers said, stepping forward.

  “I assume this has to do with that idiot Englishman,” Orr said.

  “What this has to do with are the rights of a murder victim,” Rodgers said.

  “How dare you lecture this man about rights!” Kat yelled. “He defended his nation in Vietnam and has spent a lifetime legislating on behalf of citizens like us, improving the standard of living for all Americans and for women in particular.”

  “The senator’s patriotism is not at issue,” Rodgers said. “Robert Lawless was an American,” Rodgers remarked. “What happened to his rights? Lucy O’Connor is an American woman. Did she have any idea what she was getting into?”

  Kat turned on Rodgers. “You are the worst of them all. We took you in when you had nothing. I was responsible for Lawless and for Lucy. The senator had nothing to do with this.”

  “Admiral Link tells a different version of the story,” Rodgers said.

  “Ms. Lockley,” Mastio said, “would you please turn around?”

  Kat glared at her. “What? Why?”

  Mastio removed handcuffs from her belt.

  “You’re handcuffing us?” Kat screamed.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Detective, I am not going anywhere without my personal attorney,” Orr said. “I will call him and wait here until he arrives.”

  “I’m sorry, Senator, but that is not how it works,” Mastio told him. “You will have to come with us. All of you.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Orr huffed.

  “No,” Rodgers said. “This is the system you took a vow to uphold.”

  “You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer any questions,” Mastio said to them. “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law—”

  “Please don’t do this to the senator,” Kat implored. “His office demands some measure of respect.”

  “It’s like a bank account, Kat,” Rodgers said. “The more you invest, the more you earn.”

  As Mastio finished reciting the Miranda warning, Kat turned again and glared at Rodgers, then at the others. Fierce, angry glances from the senator and his aide were met with resolute looks from the others. It was only a moment, but it was like nothing Rodgers had ever experienced. This was not like political views or tactical opinions clashing in an office or command center. Those were about ideas, and they were expressed in words. This had become a primal, unspoken confrontation, something closer to the apes than to the stars.

  The young San Diego detective broke the tension. She provided an edge of humanity, a touch of the dignity Kat had requested.

  “Senator, Ms. Lockley, if you agree to come peaceably, I will remove restraints,” Mastio said. “My officers will gather your things and bring them to the stationhouse.”

  She agreed. “The press is downstairs,” Orr said. “Will I be allowed to speak with them?”

  “Actually, Senator, we will be leaving through the underground delivery level,” Mastio said.

  “The basement?” Kat declared.

  “Yes,” the detective replied. “We do not wish to upset the senator’s supporters and risk a riot.”

  “You deserve one,” Kat said.

  “They don’t,” Mastio replied, impatience flashing for the first time. “Innocent individuals might be hurt.”

  There was no further discussion. The senator went to put on a necktie. Kat stepped into the hallway. She grabbed a banana from the room service cart. It had arrived during the debate and was left behind. One of the police officers made sure she took only the fruit and not a knife or juice glass.

  While they waited for the senator, Detective Howell took Rodgers aside. The men stood beside the foyer closet.

  “General, I want to thank you for asking me to come out,” Howell said.

  “It seemed the place you should be.”

  “You know I screwed up on this,” Howell said.

  “I’ve heard rumors,” Rodgers said. He smiled. “Just rumors.”

  “Thanks. I want you to know I’ll make it right with the department,” Howell said. “I’ll resign or take a bust-down or whatever disciplinary action they want.”

  “Detective, I have a feeling your testimony is going to be important in this case,” Rodgers told him. “You’re going to take heat for what you did, and there’s going to be exposure on aspects of your personal life. Whatever dues you need to pay will get paid. I would be surprised if the Metro Police asked for more than that.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “People are pretty compassionate, when you get down to it. They’ll understand the kind of crap you were under from the start. If you hang tough, you’ll be okay.”

  “Thanks.” Howell smiled. “Just having Darrell make the call meant a lot.”

  “He’s tough but fair,” Rodgers said.

  The senator arrived, and the group left, save for three police officers. Hotel security was called, and under the eyes of two house detectives, the trio of officers packed up Senator Orr’s belongings and had them taken downstairs. Then they went to the rooms of Kat Lockley, Kenneth Link, Eric Stone, and Kendra Peterson and did the same. The suitcases were placed in a police van and driven to the station.


  Mike Rodgers did not join them as they closed up the suites. He had a job to do. Ironically, with everyone else gone, General Rodgers was in fact if not in name the ranking official of the USF. He decided to go down to the convention hall and address the attendees. Though he was not one for public speaking, he was remarkably calm as he stood at the podium and said simply that the events of the past day had forced the USF to reevaluate its launch plans. He suspected the senator would have a statement to make within the next day or two but had no additional information or insights to share at present. He did not answer questions shouted from those near the stage.

  “As of now,” he said in closing, “the party is over.”

  The double meaning did not appear to be lost on anyone. Slowly, thousands of people made their way to the street. Some went to their hotels to change flights, others waited for the downtown bars to open, and still others picked up discounted souvenirs from vendors.

  By early afternoon, as word of the arrest and extradition of Senator Orr spread through the city, the USF banners were already coming down. Soon, all that was left of the USF were discarded state placards and crumpled flyers tumbling from overstuffed trash cans and blowing down the Pacific Coast Highway.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Washington, D.C.

  Friday, 8:22 A.M.

  It was a bittersweet meeting for all.

  Stuffy, with a hint of smoke still hanging high in the air, the Tank was what it would never be again: home to all the surviving, original members of the Op-Center command team: Paul Hood, Mike Rodgers, Bob Herbert, and Darrell McCaskey. Hood had seen the men talking in the hallway and invited them in. Only Martha Mackall, who was slain in Madrid, was not present. Lowell Coffey, Matt Stoll, Ron Plummer, and Liz Gordon had joined later. All were involved in getting Op-Center running again. Coffey was talking to Senator Debenport about appropriations, Stoll and his team were installing new equipment, and Liz was talking to the staff to make sure there were no postpulse fears about being downstairs in a sealed environment, in a place where one of their coworkers had been killed.