Gutenburg replaced the phone and slipped out of the front door without bothering to say goodbye to his hostess. He was being driven down the Parkway on his way back to Langley by the time Chris raised his glass and said, ‘To Connor and Maggie, and whatever the future holds for them.’
All the guests raised their glasses. ‘To Connor and Maggie.’
10
‘I’LL TELL YOU EXACTLY where my information came from,’ said Tom Lawrence. ‘From the President of Colombia himself. He thanked me personally for “the role I played in his election”.’
‘That’s hardly proof,’ Helen Dexter said, showing no sign of emotion.
‘Are you doubting my word?’ The President made no attempt to hide his anger.
‘Certainly not, Mr President,’ said Dexter calmly. ‘But if you’re accusing the Agency of carrying out covert operations without your knowledge, I hope it’s not going to be simply on the word of a South American politician.’
The President leaned forward. ‘I suggest that you listen carefully to a recording of a conversation that took place in this office quite recently,’ he said. ‘Because what you’re about to hear struck me as having a ring of truth about it - something I suspect you haven’t had much exposure to in recent years.’
The Director remained impassive, although Nick Gutenburg, seated on her right, shifted uneasily in his seat. The President nodded in the direction of Andy Lloyd, who reached over and pressed a button on a tape recorder that had been placed on the corner of the President’s desk.
‘Would you care to go into greater detail?’
‘Of course, although I’m sure I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know. My only real rival, Ricardo Guzman, was conveniently removed from the contest just two weeks before the election.’
‘Surely you’re not suggesting …‘ It was Lawrence’s voice.
‘Well, if it wasn’t your people, it certainly wasn’t mine,’ Herrera cut in before the President could finish his sentence.
There followed such a long silence that Gutenburg began to wonder if the conversation had come to an end, but as Lawrence and Lloyd didn’t move, he assumed there was more to follow.
‘Do you have any actual evidence to link the assassination with the CIA?‘ asked Lloyd eventually.
‘The bullet that killed him was traced to a rifle that had been sold to a pawn shop before the assassin fled the country. The rifle was later removed from the shop by one of your operatives and shipped back to America via the diplomatic pouch.’
‘How can you be so sure of that?’
‘My Chief of Police is obviously a lot more forthcoming with me than the CIA are with you.’
Andy Lloyd flicked off the tape recorder. Helen Dexter looked up to find the President’s eyes boring into hers.
‘Well?’ Lawrence asked. ‘What simple explanation do you have this time?’
‘From that conversation there is absolutely no proof of any CIA involvement in Guzman’s assassination,’ she said evenly. ‘All it suggests to me is that Herrera is trying to shield the person who carried out his orders.’
‘I assume you’re referring to the “lone assassin” who has since conveniently disappeared somewhere in South Africa,’ said the President sarcastically.
‘The moment he surfaces, Mr President, we’ll find him, and then I’ll be able to supply the proof you’ve asked for.’
‘An innocent man shot in a back street in Johannesburg will not be enough proof for me,’ said Lawrence.
‘Nor me,’ said Dexter. ‘When I produce the man who was responsible for the assassination, there won’t be any doubt about who he was working for.’ There was a slight edge to her voice.
‘If you fail to do so,’ said the President, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if this tape’ - he tapped the recorder - ‘ended up in the hands of a certain reporter at the Washington Post who isn’t exactly known for his love of the CIA. We can leave it to him to decide if Herrera is covering himself, or simply telling the truth. Either way, you’re going to have to answer an awful lot of awkward questions.’
‘If that were ever to happen, you might have to answer one or two yourself, Mr President,’ said Dexter, not flinching.
Lawrence rose angrily from his chair and glared down at her. ‘Let me make it clear that I still require positive proof of the existence of your missing South African. And if you fail to produce it within twenty-eight days, I’ll expect both of your resignations on my desk. Now get out of my office.’
The Director and her Deputy rose to leave the room without another word. Neither of them spoke until they were seated in the back of Dexter’s car. Once they had been driven out of the grounds of the White House, she touched a button on her armrest and a smoked-glass window slid up so that the driver - a senior operative - was unable to hear the conversation taking place behind him.
‘Have you found out which company it was that interviewed Fitzgerald?’
‘Yes,’ replied Gutenburg.
‘Then you’re going to have to give their Chairman a call’
‘My name is Nick Gutenburg. I’m the Deputy Director of the CIA. You may wish to call me back. The switchboard number at the Agency is 703 482 1100. If you give the operator your name, she will put you straight through to my office.’ He put the phone down.
Gutenburg had found over the years that not only were such calls invariably returned, usually in under a minute, but that the little subterfuge nearly always gave him the upper hand.
He sat at his desk, waiting. Two minutes passed, but he wasn’t concerned. He knew that this particular gentleman would want to verify the number. Once he had confirmed that it was the CIA’s switchboard, Gutenburg would be in an even stronger position.
When the phone eventually rang three minutes later, Gutenburg let it continue for some time before answering it. ‘Good morning, Mr Thompson,’ he said, not waiting to hear who it was. ‘I’m grateful to you for calling back so promptly.’
‘My pleasure, Mr Gutenburg,’ said the Chairman of Washington Provident.
‘I fear it’s a delicate matter that I need to speak to you about, Mr Thompson. I wouldn’t be making such a call unless I felt it was in your best interests.’
‘I appreciate that,’ said Thompson. ‘How can I help?’
‘You have recently been interviewing candidates to head up your kidnap and ransom department. A post that demands the highest standards of integrity.’
‘Of course,’ said Thompson. ‘But I think we’ve found the ideal person for the position.’
‘I have no idea who you’ve selected for the job, but I should let you know that we are currently investigating one of the applicants, and should the case end up in court, it might not reflect too well on your firm. However, Mr Thompson, if you are confident that you have found the right man, the CIA certainly has no desire to stand in his way.’
‘Now wait a moment, Mr Gutenburg. If you’re aware of something I should know about, I’ll be only too happy to listen.’
Gutenburg paused before saying, ‘May I ask, in the strictest confidence, the name of the candidate to whom you are thinking of offering this position?’
‘You most certainly can, because I’m in no doubt about his reputation, background or propriety. We are about to sign a contract with a Mr Connor Fitzgerald.’ There was a long silence before Thompson said, ‘Are you still there, Mr Gutenburg?’
‘I am, Mr Thompson. I wonder if you could find the time to visit me at Langley? I think I should brief you more fully on the fraud investigation we are presently undertaking. You might also want to examine some confidential papers that have come into our possession.’
This time it was Thompson’s turn to remain silent. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that. I don’t think a visit will be necessary,’ said the Chairman quietly. ‘He seemed like such a good man.’
‘I’m equally distressed to have had to make this call in the first place, Mr Thompson. But you would have been more angry with me if
I hadn’t, and the whole sorry affair had ended up on the front page of the Washington Post.’
‘I can’t disagree with that,’ said Thompson.
‘May I add,’ said the Deputy Director, ‘though of course it’s not pertinent to the case we’re investigating, that I’ve been a policyholder with Washington Provident since the day I began working for the CIA.’
‘I’m glad to hear that, Mr Gutenburg. I’d just like to say how much I appreciate the thoroughness with which you people carry out your job.’
‘I only hope I’ve been of some service, Mr Thompson. Goodbye, sir.’
Gutenburg replaced the receiver, and immediately pressed ‘1’ on the phone nearest to him.
‘Yes?’ said a voice.
‘I don’t think Washington Provident will be offering Fitzgerald a job after all’
‘Good. Why don’t we leave it for three days, then you can tell him about his new assignment.’
‘Why wait three days?’
‘You’ve obviously never read Freud’s paper on maximum vulnerability.’
We are sorry to inform you …
Connor was reading the letter for the third time when the phone on his desk rang. He felt numb with disbelief. What could possibly have gone wrong? The dinner at the Thompsons’ home couldn’t have been more agreeable. When he and Maggie left a few minutes before midnight, Ben had suggested a round of golf at Burning Tree the following weekend, and Elizabeth Thompson had asked Maggie to drop by for coffee while the men were out chasing little white balls. The next day his lawyer had rung to say that the contract Washington Provident had sent for his approval needed no more than a few minor adjustments.
Connor picked up the phone.
‘Yes, Joan.’
‘I have the Deputy Director on the line.’
‘Put him through,’ he said wearily.
‘Connor?’ said a voice he had never trusted. ‘Something important has come up, and the Director’s asked me to brief you immediately.’
‘Of course,’ said Connor, not really taking in Gutenburg’s words.
‘Shall we make it three o’clock, the usual place?’
‘Of course,’ Connor repeated. He was still holding the phone long after he had heard the click. He read the letter for a fourth time, and decided not to tell Maggie about it until he had been shortlisted for another job.
Connor was the first to arrive in Lafayette Square. He sat down on a bench facing the White House. A few minutes later Nick Gutenburg took a seat on the other end of the bench. Connor took care not to even glance in his direction.
‘The President himself requested that you should take on this assignment,’ murmured Gutenburg, looking fixedly in the direction of the White House. ‘He wanted our best man.’
‘But I’m due to leave the Company in ten days’ time,’ said Connor.
‘Yes, the Director told him. But the President insisted that we do everything in our power to convince you to stay until this assignment has been completed.’
Connor remained silent.
‘Connor, the outcome of the elections in Russia could affect the future of the free world. If that lunatic Zerimski is elected, it would mean a return to the Cold War overnight. The President could forget his Arms Reduction Bill, and Congress would be demanding an increase in the defence budget that could bankrupt us.’
‘But Zerimski’s still way behind in the polls,’ said Connor. ‘Isn’t Chernopov expected to win comfortably?’
‘That’s how it may look right now,’ said Gutenburg. ‘But there are still three weeks to go, and the President’ - he emphasised the word while continuing to stare at the White House - ‘feels that with an electorate that volatile, anything could happen. He’d be a lot happier knowing you were out there, just in case your particular expertise is needed.’
Connor didn’t respond.
‘If it’s your new job you’re worrying about,’ continued Gutenburg, ‘I’d be happy to have a word with the Chairman of the company you’re joining and explain to him that it’s only a short-term assignment.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Connor. ‘But I’ll need a little time to think about it.’
‘Of course,’ said Gutenburg. ‘When you’ve made up your mind, please call the Director and let her know your decision.’ He rose and walked away in the direction of Farragut Square.
Three minutes later, Connor strolled off in the opposite direction.
Andy Lloyd picked up the red phone. This time he recognised the voice immediately.
‘I’m almost certain I know who carried out the assignment in Bogota,’ said Jackson.
Was he working for the CIA?’ Lloyd asked.
‘Yes, he was.’
‘Do you have enough proof to convince the Congressional Select Committees on Intelligence?’
‘No, I don’t. Almost all the evidence I have would be thrown out as circumstantial. But when it’s all put together, there are far too many coincidences for my liking.’
‘For example?’
‘The agent who I suspect pulled the trigger was sacked shortly after the President saw Dexter in the Oval Office and demanded to know who was responsible for Guzman’s assassination.’
‘Not even admissible as evidence.’
‘Perhaps not. But the same agent was about to take up a new appointment with Washington Provident as head of their kidnap and ransom department when suddenly, without any explanation, the job offer was withdrawn.’
‘A second coincidence.’
‘There’s a third. Three days later, Gutenburg met the agent in question on a park bench in Lafayette Square.’
‘Why would they want to take him back?’
‘To carry out a one-off assignment.’
‘Do we have any idea what that assignment is?’
‘No. But don’t be surprised if it takes him a long way from Washington.’
‘Have you any way of finding out where?’
‘Not at the moment. Even his wife doesn’t know.’
‘OK, let’s look at it from their point of view,’ said Lloyd. ‘What do you think Dexter will be doing right now to make sure her ass is covered?’
‘Before I could begin to answer that I’d need to know the outcome of her last meeting with the President,’ said Jackson.
‘He gave her and Gutenburg twenty-eight days to prove that the Agency wasn’t involved in the assassination of Guzman, and to provide cast-iron proof of who did kill him. He also left them in no doubt that if they fail, he’ll demand their resignations and release all the evidence in his possession to the Washington Post.’
There was a long silence before Jackson said, ‘That means the agent in question has less than a month to live.’
‘She’d never eliminate one of her own people,’ said Lloyd in disbelief.
‘Don’t forget that he’s an NOC. The section of the CIA he works for doesn’t even exist officially, Mr Lloyd.’
‘This guy’s a good friend of yours, isn’t he?’ said Lloyd.
‘Yes,’ replied Jackson quietly.
‘Then you’d better make sure he stays alive.’
‘Good afternoon, Director. It’s Connor Fitzgerald.’
‘Good afternoon, Connor. How nice to hear from you,’ Dexter said in a warmer tone than the one she had adopted at their previous meeting.
‘The Deputy Director asked me to call you once I’d come to a decision on the matter he and I discussed on Monday.’
‘Yes,’ said Dexter, reverting to her normal clipped style.
‘I’m willing to take the assignment.’
‘I’m glad to hear that.’
‘On one condition.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘I will require proof that the operation has been sanctioned by the President.’
There was a long silence before Dexter said, ‘I’ll inform the President of your request.’
‘So how does it work?’ asked the Director. She couldn’t remember when sh
e had last visited the OTS lab at Langley.
‘It’s quite simple really,’ said Professor Ziegler, the CIA’s Director of Technical Services. He turned to a bank of computers and pressed some keys. Tom Lawrence’s face appeared on the screen.
After Dexter and Nick Gutenburg had listened to the words of the President for a few moments, she said, ‘What’s so remarkable about that? We’ve all heard Lawrence making a speech before.’
‘Maybe, but you’ve never heard him make that particular speech,’ said Ziegler.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Gutenburg.
An almost childlike smile of satisfaction spread across the professor’s face. ‘I have stored in my computer - codename “Tommy” - over a thousand speeches, television and radio interviews and telephone conversations the President has given or taken part in during the past two years. Every word or phrase he has used in that time is stored in this memory bank. That means I can make him deliver a speech on any subject you choose. I can even decide what his position is on any given issue.’
Dexter began to consider the possibilities. ‘If Tommy were to be asked a question, could he give a convincing reply?’ she asked.
‘Not spontaneously,’ admitted Ziegler. ‘But if you had some idea of the questions he might be expected to answer, I believe I could fool Lawrence’s own mother.’
‘So all we have to do,’ said Gutenburg, ‘is anticipate what the other party is likely to say.’
‘Which may not be as difficult as you might think,’ said Ziegler. ‘After all, if you were to receive a call from the President, you’d be unlikely to ask him about the strength of the dollar, or what he had for breakfast, would you? In most cases you’d know the reason he was calling. I have no idea why you might need Tommy, but if you were to prepare opening and closing remarks, as well as - say - the fifty questions or statements he was most likely to have to respond to, I could almost guarantee he could conduct a plausible conversation.’
The Eleventh Commandment (1998) Page 9
