by Clancy, Tom
“Then he has an accident, as his wife did,” FNO Loh suggested.
“Bingo!” Herbert said. “I like your style. That’s the price of protecting the twenty-first-century world.
The debate ended as the Bell chopper set down. Leyland unfolded a detailed map of the area. He showed Jelbart the road to the area of trees they could use to set the trap. Herbert half-listened while Loh unloaded the wheelchair and helped him from the chopper. He was sick of talk in general. While they were crisscrossing the estate, radioactive material could be making its way to a terrorist factory. Or it could already be en route to Washington or London or Sydney. How stupid would they feel looking for perimeter access if a dirty bomb was built with this material and a few sticks of TNT? How would they live with themselves if 10,000 people died from radiation poisoning? Herbert had no interest in finding out. He would rather risk the wrath of Jervis Darling.
When Leyland and Jelbart had agreed on a place to carry out the first part of the operation, the brigade commander summoned the gangly kid named Spider. The young firefighter was going to help Jelbart with the insertion. Then he would return to his post. That was already one more person than Herbert wanted to be involved.
When Herbert worked for the CIA, the objective was to streamline operations, not to pad them.
It was well after ten P.M. when Herbert, Leyland, and Loh slipped into the brigade’s Humvee and headed toward the front entrance to Darling’s estate. Loh had borrowed civilian clothes from Eva. They were a little roomy, but they would serve their purpose. As the trio left, Jelbart and Spider also departed. They drove out in a jeep to the tree they had selected in the flyover. A tree that was on public land but overhung the wall of the Darling estate.
The tree where they would take Little Maluka, the mascot of the Queensland North Rural Fire Brigade, to play his part in the deception.
FORTY-SEVEN
Washington, D.C. Saturday, 8:47 A.M.
Hood was in his office, waiting for nine A.M. to arrive. That was when he planned to call Daphne Connors at home. While he waited, his phone beeped. He hoped it was the advertising executive. If Daphne called him, that would make his life a whole lot easier.
It was not Daphne Connors. It was Lowell Coffey.
“Well, we just sent two teams on a very unusual mission,” Coffey said.
“Where are you?”
“At the observation post cabin of the Queensland North Rural Fire Brigade,” Coffey said. “We have a new member of the team.”
“Oh?”
“A koala that was burned in a fire,” Coffey said. “They’re sneaking him into the Darling compound through a back entrance. Then the fire captain, FNO Loh, and Bob are going in the front door to try to get him back.”
“Who are Loh and Bob supposed to be?” Hood asked.
“Volunteers with the local International Wildlife Education and Conservation Group,” Coffey told him. “They’re going to position the koala as their local poster child. Tell Darling what bad press it would be if the little escapee was hurt on his property. While they’re inside, Bob is going to try to split from the others to get to Darling’s phone.”
“Has he got a chance?”
“You know I would never bet against Bob,” Coffey replied. “But I have to admit he’s got me worried. Bob’s pretty pissed off.”
“About what?”
“He was getting pretty hot about Darling, about the whole idea of a guy in our sights being innocent until proven otherwise,” Coffey said.
“Hold on,” Hood said. “I’m going to conference in Liz Gordon.”
“Paul, I don’t know if it’s that serious—”
“Exactly,” Hood said. “Let’s talk to someone who will.”
Hood put Coffey on hold and punched in Liz’s home phone. She was there, obviously still asleep. The Op-Center psychiatrist did the Washington bar scene on Friday nights. Not to party, she swore, but to research a book she was writing on the dynamics of human flirtation. Maybe that was true. But Liz certainly sounded hungover when she answered the phone. She recovered quickly when she heard it was Paul Hood on the line. He brought her up to date and then plugged Coffey into the conversation.
“Lowell, Liz is on the line,” Hood said.
“Good morning,” Liz said groggily.
“Late evening here,” Coffey said. “But good morning.”
“Right. Lowell, did Bob seem unstable, impatient?” she asked.
“He seemed fed up,” Coffey replied. “He was disgusted out of proportion with the situation we’re facing.”
“How bad did he lay into you personally?” Liz asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Did he insult you, criticize you, work you over?” Liz asked. “Putting it bluntly, Lowell, is this payback?”
“No!” Coffey said. “Even if he had, I can be objective. Give me credit.”
“Not my job,” she said. “Was there any physical manifestation? Was he pounding things, playing repetitively with anything on his wheelchair?”
“He was in the backseat of the helicopter,” Coffey said. “I couldn’t really see.”
“Paul, was he airlifted from the Beirut rubble?” Liz asked.
“I believe he was,” Hood said.
“This could be subconscious motor memory, the chopper sound and vibration triggering unresolved hostility,” she said. “Bottom line, Lowell. Do you think Bob is dangerous?”
“That may be an overstatement,” Coffey replied. “I mean, you want a guy in that position to be aggressive.”
“So the answer is no,” she said.
“The answer is no, he was sounding almost bloodthirsty,” Coffey replied. “Not quite, but getting there.”
“But he was not violent,” she said.
Coffey said he was not.
“Paul,” Liz said, “were there any reports of Bob overreacting on his last field operation? In Germany, I think it was?”
“It was Germany, and no, there was nothing,” Hood said.
“What this sounds like is displacement,” Liz said. “Shifting anger or desire from an original target to a more convenient one. Possibly triggered by the chopper, possibly by delayed post-traumatic stress. All of it tied together by Bob’s natural frustration with the system and possibly some jet lag. It’s difficult to ascribe exact causes without talking to Bob. But it doesn’t sound as if he’ll flip out on you. People who experience transference usually peak at the onset of symptoms. They’re looking to dump. Something triggers it, and off they go.”
“So we’ve seen the worst of it,” Hood said.
“Probably,” Liz replied. “Unless someone sprays lighter fluid on the fire. Is that likely to happen, Lowell?”
“From everything I’ve heard, Jervis Darling is a pretty cool fellow,” Coffey said.
“What about the people Bob is traveling with?” Liz asked.
“Leyland is pretty lighthearted, and Loh is very quiet and serious, almost catatonic,” he replied.
“That should help keep him in balance,” Liz said.
“So we’re okay to let this play out,” Hood said.
“Given that nothing is ever guaranteed, I’d say yes,” Liz told him. “I don’t see him blowing.”
“Not even if they’re stonewalled?” Hood asked.
“Bob has a self-imposed objective, which is to get data from a telephone,” Liz said. “If he fails to do this, he’ll be angry. But his training will probably keep him in check. He will regroup and try again. The real danger is if he is personally exposed by Jervis Darling.”
“As a spy and not an animal welfare worker,” Hood said.
“That’s correct,” Liz said. “The assumed identity gives him a way of keeping his real feelings inside. If that’s stripped away, he might become the person Lowell described. It’s part of the fight-or-flight mechanism, and Bob Herbert is not prone to flight.”
That was the truth. Hood had never been a big believer in psychiatry. But if he peeled away the jarg
on, the things Liz said made sense.
Hood thanked her and let her go back to sleep. Then he told Coffey that he was going to let this play out. Whether or not they liked Herbert’s inquisitorial manner, there was no avoiding the bottom line. While there was still a trail to follow, they had to find out who made it and why.
Hood sighed. He no longer felt like calling Daphne. Until Herbert was safe, he did not want any distractions.
At least that was what Hood told himself.
FORTY-EIGHT
Cairns, Australia Saturday, 10:49 P.M.
Monica Loh was accustomed to the dangers she faced at sea. There were storms, collisions, hazardous rescues, even mines dropped by insurgents from her country and its neighbors. Disasters were rare, but she and her crew were vigilant and confident.
The naval officer was alert but extremely uneasy as they pulled up to the massive front gate of the Darling estate. She was going into what the Republic of Singapore Navy classified as a search-and-discover mission. Yet she did not have all the information she needed to feel confident. Loh was posing as an animal welfare worker visiting from Singapore. Beyond that, they had not come up with much of a story for her. Nor did she have a clear idea what she was supposed to do, other than to go out back with Captain Leyland and look for the koala. Leyland expected they would find the animal pretty much where Jelbart and Spider left him. The koala was apparently rather sedentary. Loh also did not know what to expect from Jervis Darling or this man Bob Herbert. The naval officer admired Herbert’s ideas and his courage. But he also seemed edgy and impatient. Would Darling notice that? If so, at the very least, their mission would fail. Loh had not even considered the ramifications if she were exposed. She had not sought authorization for this mission because it would be classified as a shore-based operation. That fell under the jurisdiction of the Defence Executive Command. It would have taken time to second her to the DEC, if the commanding officer would have permitted that at all. The group was highly protective of all landbased activities.
Leyland pulled up to the gate and lowered the window. He looked around for an intercom but saw none. The reason quickly became apparent. Darling did not need one. A jeep pulled up behind the Humvee. Spotlights were turned on the Humvee. Two men got out. Both were armed with Uzis. One guard approached the driver’s side of the Humvee. He shined a flashlight on Captain Leyland. The other guard walked slowly around the Humvee. He checked on top and below, probably searching for explosives.
“What are you doing here?” the guard asked.
“I’m Captain Leyland with the Queensland North Rural Fire Brigade,” Leyland told him. He took a leather holder from his shirt pocket and showed the security guard his badge. “These are volunteers with International Wildlife Education and Conservation Group. We’re searching for an injured koala. We believe we spotted him from the air, out on the property.”
“That was your chopper sailing over before?” the guard asked.
“Yes. Sorry for the disturbance. But it’s rather important that we find the animal, and the night is growing a beard.”
The guard shone his flashlight on the occupants. Then he stepped from the Humvee and pulled a radio from his belt. He turned his back on the occupants as he spoke quietly into the mouthpiece. After a short conversation, he came back to the window.
“The groundskeeper said he’ll go and look for it,” the guard told him. “You can wait here or—”
“I’m afraid that doesn’t work for us,” Leyland said. “The koala is ill, you see. It may spread sickness to other animals on the estate. Dogs, for example. Mr. Darling’s daughter plays with those animals.”
“Are you suggesting that we send a patrol out to shoot the thing?” the guard asked.
“I am not suggesting that,” Leyland snapped. “We do not want him shot. We want him reacquired for study. That is why these people are here. This is very important.”
The guard considered this for a moment. He stepped away again and spoke into the radio. When he was finished, the guard informed Leyland that Mr. Darling’s personal assistant Andrew Graham would meet them at the front door. Then the guard walked to the gate, swiped a card through a slot on the door, and the gate slid aside. Leyland drove through, following the winding, cobblestone drive toward the front of the mansion.
From the sky, Monica Loh had neither been surprised nor impressed by the size of the home. From the deck of her patrol ship she had seen many impressive oceanside and cliff-top estates. This was just one more. As they pulled up to the columned entrance, however, she felt as if she were in the presence of something oddly outdated and supine. Loh was used to oversized ships and aircraft, but they all moved. People worked on and around them. There was a sense of life to them. Not this place. Even the man who came to meet them was strangely inanimate. He was a thin man dressed in a charcoal sweater and black slacks. His actions were stiff, strangely guarded. One would naturally be wary of uninvited guests showing up this late at night. But that should manifest itself as impatience, annoyance. There was none of that in this man.
Loh and Leyland got out of the Humvee. The captain pulled Herbert’s wheelchair from the back and opened it. He stood beside Loh while the intelligence chief swung into the leather seat.
“My sick koala’s got more life than this pie-eater,” Leyland said as the man approached them.
“I was just thinking that,” Loh said.
“He’s being watched,” Herbert said quietly.
“By whom?” Leyland asked.
“I’m not sure,” Herbert replied. He moved between the other two and nodded toward the top of one of the columns. “A small security camera is moving right along with him.”
“I can’t believe the big man himself would be doing that,” Leyland whispered back.
“I can, if he’s hiding something,” Herbert replied.
The trio fell silent as the man neared. They could see him clearly in the clean white glow of spotlights clustered two at either end of the facade. He was a tallish, round-faced, dark-skinned man. In soft, overenunciated tones he introduced himself as Andrew Graham. He said he would show the others to the back, though he made an unhappy face as he looked down at Herbert.
“With respect, sir, it is all grass back there,” he said to Herbert. “It might be difficult for you to navigate. Would you care to wait inside?”
Herbert looked at Loh. “What do you think? Can you handle Little Maluka without me?”
“I handled an orphaned Komodo dragon in Bandung,” she said. “I think I can manage.”
Herbert smiled. “If you need help, beep me.”
Loh said the same, but with a look.
Andrew contacted the groundskeeper via cell phone. The burly young man arrived several moments later in a golf cart. While he drove Leyland and Loh around the side of the estate, Andrew helped Herbert up the short flight of steps into the mansion.
Loh was a veteran naval officer. Her bearings were surest when she was on the sea and, perhaps more important, when she was part of a unit.
Her feeling of uneasiness increased dramatically as their key player went into the house alone.
FORTY-NINE
Cairns, Australia Saturday, 11:12 P.M.
The first thing Herbert did as he entered the long, marble-rich foyer was to look for security devices. There were motion detectors in the corners and a keypad beside the door. Obviously, they were not on now. There were no cameras here, only outside. That was good. If he were left alone, chances were good he could move about without being spied upon. Andrew released the chair as soon as they were inside. He extended a hand toward the living room. Both men began moving in that direction. Herbert felt as though he were entering a museum. It was absolutely quiet, save for the squeak of his wheels and the secretary’s shoes. Large paintings and statues were barely visible in the vast room ahead. Herbert could barely make out other rooms in the dim light beyond.
“May I get you a beverage?” Andrew asked. “Sparkling water or som
ething a bit more potent?”
“Thank you, no,” Herbert replied.
“A snack, then?”
“Nothing, thanks,” Herbert said. “I was wondering, though, if I might impose on you. Is there a phone line I can use? I’d like to send an E-mail to my office in Washington. I’ve been out on this search all night and need to get some information over to them.”
“Of course,” Andrew said. “That is not a problem.”
“I’ll charge the call to my personal account. It won’t cost Mr. Darling anything.”
“I’m certain it would be all right if you called your office directly,” Andrew said.
“That’s very kind,” Herbert replied.
They entered the living room, and Andrew led the way to a study on the left. There were shelves filled with books and tools such as magnifying glasses, whisk brooms, and computer diskettes. The secretary gestured toward a large mahogany desk. There was a phone tucked among dozens of shoe boxes, cigar boxes, and plastic bags.
“Mr. Darling uses that unit for his laptop,” Andrew said. “You can plug into the data port in back.”
“Thank you very much,” Herbert said.
“Not at all.”
Herbert glanced around. “It looks to me like Mr. Darling does a little scientific work.”
“He studies and collects fossils,” Andrew said.
“Fascinating,” Herbert replied. “I also thought I saw the dome of an observatory driving up.”
“Perhaps you did,” Andrew said.
“Is Mr. Darling also a stargazer?”
“Mr. Darling has many interests,” Andrew replied as he turned toward the door.
The intelligence chief already knew that there was an observatory from the dossier on Darling. He was simply curious how forthcoming Andrew would be. The answer was: not very.
“Well, thank Mr. Darling for me,” Herbert said.
