“I kid you not.”
“Lance thinks he’s still alive?”
“The Director thinks he might be still alive, and that’s enough.”
She shook her head. “Hang on a minute while I connect the dots.” She was quiet for a moment. “Okay, I can’t connect the dots.”
“The dots run all the way to the president; does that help?”
Her eyebrows went up. “Ooooh; reelection!”
“You’ve just connected the dots.”
“Why don’t they just leave well enough alone? Nobody else is looking for him.”
“I’ll bet you a blow job the FBI still is.”
“I won’t take that bet,” she said. “Teddy got away from them twice; Director Bob must be pissed off.”
“Yeah, and he’s the kind of guy who, once he’s pissed off, stays pissed off, until somebody makes him happy.”
“You think they’d arrest Teddy if they found him?”
“My guess is, not until after the election. After all, it was Will Lee who pulled Director Bob out of the ranks and gave him the big job. The guy must have some sense of gratitude.”
“You’d think.”
“Ms. Barker thinks this guy, Robertson, might be Teddy Fay.”
“The one you think is the escaped airport bandit?”
“I’m right; I know I am.”
“Excuse me, but aren’t you the guy who thought that coffee merchant in Cairo was Osama bin Laden?”
“That has nothing to do with this. Besides, the guy was very tall. And he had a beard.”
“Right. So tell me why you think Robertson isn’t Teddy Fay.”
“Instinct.”
“Uh-oh, instinct. You should never follow your instincts, darling. Let me guess, Robertson looks like Teddy.”
“He looks like the description of Teddy that Lance gave Holly Barker.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Come on, Billy, use your noodle a little; just consider it. What about Robertson conflicts with what’s known about Teddy Fay?”
Pepper was silent. “Teddy wouldn’t be stupid enough to use an identity that couldn’t be confirmed.”
“Nothing else, huh?”
“Not much.”
“Name some little thing about Robertson that conflicts with his being Teddy.”
“His identity doesn’t check out, okay? All right, nothing else, but nothing conflicts with his being Barney Cox, either.”
“Tell me, in your wildest dreams, who would you rather be responsible for bringing in: Barney Cox or Teddy Fay?”
“Well, Barney Cox, of course. If I brought in Teddy Fay, nobody would ever know; Langley would sit on it.”
“Lance would know, and if he gets the DDO job, that would be nice.”
“Yeah, but only Lance would know, and suppose he doesn’t get the job?”
“The director would know, and that means the president would know.”
“Why do you think that? You think Lance would tell her if I busted Teddy? He’d see that he and his acolyte, Barker, got the credit; then he’d get credit for sending her down here. And the director wouldn’t tell the president until he’s out of office. He wouldn’t want to know a thing like that.”
“You have a point.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe we’d get a nice transfer out of it?”
“What’s wrong with St. Marks? I’m working practically alone—ah, with the woman I love—in my very own country; I have nobody local breathing down my neck, except the guy at the embassy. And you’re having the time of your life; your tennis game has never been better.”
“If we were a couple of years from retirement, St. Marks would be heaven,” she said. “But we have careers ahead of us. In another year, Langley will forget we’re here, and we’ll be left to rot on the vine. But if you could make Robertson as Barney Cox, the Brits would love you for it; maybe you could join MI6.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you. Think of some way we can make hay out of Barney Cox.”
“If we were the police, we’d be world-famous in an instant, have our pictures in every newspaper in the world, but that’s not who we are, is it? If we’re responsible for busting Cox, only the Agency is going to know; Langley is not even going to tell the Brits.”
“They’d be very pleased if we busted Cox for the Brits. They could lord it over MI6 for years.”
“Well, there is that. All right, you want me to see what I can find out at the tennis club?”
“Does Robertson play tennis?”
“He’s a new member; I checked.”
“You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?”
“I only checked today. I win the blow job!” She shucked off her nightgown.
“Hang on, I don’t even remember what the bet was about. How do I know you won?”
She grabbed him by the hair and drew his face into her lap. “Trust me,” she said.
They forgot about calling Lance.
25
Lance asked for and got an appointment with the director, and he presented himself at the appointed time. His morning conversation with Barker had been interesting.
“Good morning, Lance,” Kate Lee said, waving him to a chair. “What do you have to report?”
“We’ve identified a man in St. Marks as, possibly, Teddy Fay.”
“Great!”
“Stone Barrington interviewed a man at the airport who showed him a small airplane belonging to a recently arrived Englishman, calling himself Robertson. There’s no British paper on this character at all, so he’s obviously not who he says he is, and he more or less fits Teddy’s description.”
“Now what?”
“Problem is, Bill Pepper, on his own hook, has made a different identification.”
“Pepper’s our man in the casino down there, isn’t he? The computer whiz?”
“Right.”
“Who does Pepper think the man is?”
“He thinks he’s one of the four men who robbed a currency-transfer company at Heathrow a few months ago, name of Barney Cox.”
“I remember the incident; a hell of a lot of money, wasn’t it?”
“Over a hundred million quid.”
“Hard to handle that much cash, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but with careful planning, it could be done. Private jet to a country with amenable banks, numbered accounts, et cetera.”
“How much does a hundred million pounds sterling weigh?”
“Let’s see, the biggest sterling note is fifty pounds; you could get a million in a large briefcase.”
“So a hundred large briefcases would do it?”
“Or ten manageable-sized crates. As I recall, they used a large van to remove the money from Heathrow.”
“They’d need a big private jet, then.”
“Or a not-very-big cargo plane. Of course, the Brits would be all over that sort of flight.”
“They could truck it across the channel and fly from anywhere in Europe.”
“Yes, they could, if they waited for things to cool off enough.”
“So you think this Robertson could be Cox?”
“It’s possible.”
“Just as possible as if he’s Teddy Fay, then.”
“I’m afraid so. The reason I came to you about this is that Bill Pepper doesn’t work for me. He did me a favor and met briefly with Holly Barker to tell her what he knows about Pemberton. She was also interested in the evil Colonel Croft, né Benet, of Haiti.”
“Why?”
“Their cottage is bugged, and she suspects Croft, a logical assumption.”
“Have they blown their mission?” Kate asked.
“No, they’ve been careful. But as I was saying, Bill Pepper reports to Hugh English, through one of his deputies, and should you decide to mention this Robertson to the Brits, I don’t want to ruffle Hugh’s feathers by having him know that I’ve talked to Pepper without going through him.”
&
nbsp; “Why didn’t you go through him?”
“Because I don’t think he would have given me permission. This was a benign contact, nothing that would jeopardize Pepper’s work down there. Also, Hugh English doesn’t know about our looking for Teddy, and I didn’t think you’d want him to.”
“Yes, well, there is that. Pepper has cracked the government computers down there, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, that’s how he began his background check on Robertson; he checked the info on his application to buy a house.”
“One thing about Robertson that doesn’t sound like Teddy: he has no paper in Britain,” Kate said. “It doesn’t sound like Teddy to create a legend with no paper behind him. All his experience is in new identities with a lot of depth.”
“I’ll grant you that, but Teddy can’t have the resources he did when he was at home, here. He may have taken a certain amount of paper with him—passports, that sort of thing—but to build an identity in depth, he’d need more than just an Internet connection. He’d need British passwords and codes that he couldn’t get without the Agency’s people and equipment. That may be why this identity is so shallow.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Kate asked.
“Nothing. But if you decide to pass Pemberton on to the Brits for a more thorough investigation, I’d like you to conceal your source from Hugh English.”
“Hasn’t Pepper already reported his suspicions to Hugh?”
“Not yet; his hunch is only a day or so old. I could tell him, on your instructions, not to report it until you’re ready.”
“I think that’s the best course for now. I’ll get back to you. And Lance, thanks for bringing this to my attention, even though it’s outside your purview.”
Kate watched Lance leave, then sat and thought about this. She should probably discuss it with her husband, since he and the British prime minister were close. He would not want to withhold anything from the British. Well, not for very long, anyway. She’d think about it later.
26
Lance went back to his office and sat at his desk, gazing out at the Virginia landscape. He had covered his ass with Kate, but he was still worried about Hugh English.
The longtime deputy director for operations would have been gone now, retired to some gated Florida golf community, had it not been for the very inconvenient murder of his chosen successor, Dick Stone. English was not a favorite of the director, since he had opposed her promotion to that office. He had been subtle, having many contacts on Capitol Hill, and, since he had removed himself from the succession, his opinion carried real weight there, but she had been confirmed anyway because of the depth of influence in the Senate of her husband. Still, English’s long history with the Agency gave him broad and deep support internally, and Lance, hoping for promotion to his job, didn’t want to run afoul of the man. Now, however, he had, almost inadvertently, tossed a potential hand grenade under Hugh English’s chair, and he was worried that it might go off at an inopportune moment.
His phone rang; Holly Barker was reporting in. He picked it up. “Lance Cabot.”
“It’s Holly.”
“What have you to report?”
“Nothing; you told me to stay away from Robertson, and that’s what I’ve done. I don’t know why you’d send me down here to find Teddy, then hold me back when we’ve developed a hot lead.”
“Robertson is not your concern, Holly, until I tell you he is. Here’s what I want you to do.”
Holly punched off the satphone, then walked through the house, stripped off her clothes and joined the others on the beach.
“What?” Stone asked, seeing her face.
“Lance still won’t let us go near Robertson.”
“Then what are we doing here?”
“Lying on the beach, apparently. He wants Pepper to check him out further.”
“Great,” Dino said. “I like lying on the beach better, anyway.”
“I don’t,” Holly said. She stood up, dropped her towel and ran into the sea, swimming strongly a hundred yards out. She looked back to see that Stone had followed her to the water’s edge and was keeping an eye on her. She waved for him to follow, and he entered the water and began swimming.
Holly ducked underwater and swam a few strokes, looking for the sandbar that she knew ran parallel to the beach. She found it after a moment and stood up in waist-deep water.
Stone shortly joined her. “How did you know about the bar?”
“Thomas told me. He said not to go farther out, though.” She splashed water in his face.
“Stand still,” he said.
“What?”
“Just don’t move around. Stand perfectly still.”
He was looking back toward the beach, and she followed his gaze. A large gray fin was slicing through the water inside the sandbar, between them and the beach. “Oh, shit,” she said.
“Just don’t move,” Stone replied. Slowly, he slid under the water for a moment, then, just as slowly, reemerged. “It’s a hammerhead,” he said. “A big one.”
The fin went a few yards past them, then reversed course. “How big?”
“I’m guessing fourteen, fifteen feet. Tell me you’re not having your period.”
“I’m not having my period.”
“Thank God for that; we don’t need that scent in the water.” She looked back toward the beach and saw Dino and Genevieve walk into the water and begin swimming toward them. “They’re splashing,” she said, pointing.
Stone turned and looked at the swimmers and began waving his arms. Dino waved back. Stone, with both hands, began making a pushing motion, waving them back to the beach. It took Dino a moment to understand, then he tapped Genevieve on the shoulder, and they began swimming back. They stood in knee-deep water and watched. Dino pointed out the shark’s fin to his girlfriend.
“This is ridiculous,” Holly said. “Four naked people watching a shark swim.”
“Two of them in the water with the shark,” Stone pointed out. “That’s even more ridiculous.”
“What are we going to do?” Holly asked.
“Wait for it to decide we’re uninteresting.”
“And if it has a different opinion?”
“Hit it with our fists in the eyes, which, I think, are at the ends of the hammer. I wish now I hadn’t missed that field trip to the aquarium when I was a kid. I was home with the flu.”
“I wish I had a gun,” Holly said, looking at Stone. When she looked back at the shark, the fin was gone. “Oh, shit.” She pointed.
“Oh, shit, indeed,” Stone replied. He ducked slowly under the water again, and this time he was under for a full minute before he came up again.
Holly kept looking for the fin. “Could you see it?” she asked.
“No, it vanished.”
“Vanished where?”
“I don’t know, it’s just gone.”
Holly ducked under the water and did a slow three-sixty. She wished she had goggles. She wished she had a shotgun. She came up again. “I can’t see more than thirty feet.”
“Neither could I.” Stone suddenly pointed outside the bar. The fin had reappeared, moving slowly down the beach, away from them. “I think it’s time to rejoin Dino and Genevieve,” he said. “No overhand swimming; breaststroke.”
But Holly was already swimming steadily toward the beach. She had a weird feeling that the big hammerhead was an omen, or maybe a metaphor for what might be waiting for them on St. Marks. She tried to shake off the feeling and failed.
They walked out of the water a few minutes later and flopped down on the blanket next to their friends.
“I’m exhausted,” Holly said. “Too much adrenaline; I’ve used it all up.”
“Looked like a dolphin to me,” Dino said.
Stone shook his head. “I saw it underwater; a hammerhead.”
“Eeeew,” Genevieve said.
“My feelings exactly,” Holly replied. “I’m going to shower, then I have to make a phone call.
”
Twenty minutes later, she dialed Bill Pepper’s satphone number. He answered immediately. “Scrambling,” she said, and pushed the button.
“Okay, I’m scrambled, too,” Pepper said. He sounded as if he was very far away. “What do you want?”
“I’ve got new instructions from Lance,” she said.
“I don’t work for Lance, and I don’t take his instructions, unless I feel like it.”
“This is handed down from the director, bypassing Hugh English.”
“How do I know that?”
“Do you expect the director to call you?”
“Well, that hasn’t happened so far.”
“And it’s not going to happen now.”
“What are these instructions?”
“We’ve got to identify Robertson beyond question.”
“Isn’t a strong suspicion enough to call the cops, or Interpol?”
“The problem is, he may be someone else.”
“Someone else? You mean, besides the Heathrow robber?”
“This never goes to Hugh English or anyone else.”
“I don’t like the sound of this.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you like it; this has to be done.”
“All right, I agree. Now, who does Lance think he is?”
“Maybe Teddy Fay.”
Pepper burst out laughing.
“No kidding.”
He stopped laughing. “He’s not dead?”
“I wish he were.”
“This is nuts.”
“Maybe so, but there it is. Prove he’s not Teddy. Prove he’s Barney Cox or anybody else. We have to know.”
Pepper sighed. “This might be fun, if it weren’t so crazy.”
“I hope you enjoy the experience.”
“Is that why you’re on St. Marks? To track down the maybe mythical Teddy Fay?”
“Yes.”
“Did Lance offer any suggestion as to how I am to proceed?”
“His view is that you’re here, on the ground, you have resources, and you know best how to use them.”
“Great, and what are you going to do?”
“Don’t go near Robertson; those are my instructions.”
“And who do I report my findings to?”
“Me. I’ll report to Lance.”
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