WASHINGTON
As soon as the Gulfstream jet stopped in the Andrews VIP hangar it was surrounded by a dozen Air Force Special Forces troops armed and dressed in BDUs. Watching from a window, McGarvey spotted Dick Adkins climbing out of a CIA car. He was flanked by a couple of bulky men in civilian clothes. Everyone looked grim, expectant. It was the middle of the night.
Kathleen had refused anything to eat or drink during the four-hour flight from San Juan, and McGarvey was worried about her. She held his hand in a death grip, her knuckles turning white when she saw the armed guards.
“It’s okay, Katy,” he assured her. “We’re home safe now.”
“What about Elizabeth and the baby?” Her voice was strident, her mood brittle despite the sedatives the doctors in San Juan had given her.
“Somebody is with them.”
Yemm went to the hatch and popped it open. He gave a nod to his people standing next to Adkins, assuring himself that the situation in the hangar was under control. He turned back. “Mr. Director.”
McGarvey helped Kathleen out of her seat, and with Yemm’s help got her out of the airplane.
Adkins came over, a look of deep concern on his face when he saw what kind of condition Kathleen was in. “Welcome home,” he said. “Do you want an ambulance?”
“No, we’re going straight home,” McGarvey said. “Are Todd and my daughter on the way back?”
“Security is with them. They haven’t been told anything yet.”
Kathleen clutched his arm. “They’re okay, Dick?”
“They’ll be okay,” Adkins promised her.
There was a wildness in her eyes that was disturbing, as if she were seeing things that were invisible to the rest of them.
“We’ll have them back by noon,” Adkins said.
She suddenly became aware of her surroundings. She straightened up and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “We weren’t expecting this sort of a reception,” she said. “None of this has been in the news, has it?”
The question caught Adkins by surprise. “No, we have it contained so far. But it won’t hold forever.”
She patted his arm maternally. “Nothing ever does, didn’t you know?” She managed a weak smile. “How’s Ruth?”
“She’s back from the hospital. We’re going to work it out.”
“Good,” Kathleen said. “Good for you.” She turned to her husband. “It’s time to go home now. I’m sleepy.”
“Housekeeping has the Cropley safe house ready—”
“We’re going home, Dick,” McGarvey said.
Adkins seemed embarrassed. “Who do you want to handle the debriefing?”
“I’ll come in around noon. We’ll decide then,” McGarvey said. He helped Kathleen into the back of the limo, then turned back to Adkins. “Ask Dr. Stenzel if he would come out to the house this morning. The earlier the better.”
“Will do,” Adkins said. “I’m glad that you’re back in one piece.”
Kathleen said nothing on the way home, leaning back in her seat and looking out the window. The snow had finally stopped, the weather had cleared and the temperature had plunged into the single digits, unusual for Washington.
Yemm, riding shotgun in the front seat, issued a steady stream of orders and instructions on the encrypted radio link with headquarters to make sure that there were no holes in the security arrangements. He’d spent a good deal of time on the radio aboard the Gulfstream setting up their arrival.
Washington seemed like a strange, alien place to McGarvey now. He felt like a boxer who was backed against the ropes. He had the necessary skills to defend himself, but he didn’t have the room, not with Kathleen and Elizabeth and the baby to worry about. But he had turned some kind of a corner. He no longer wanted to run. He wanted to stay and meet the enemy head-on; in fact, he looked forward to it. Yet there was the same nagging, scratchy feeling at the back of his head, warning him that this time the situation was different. This was something that he’d never faced before.
The downstairs lights were on when they pulled into the driveway. Security had gone over the house and grounds, including all eighteen holes of the golf course, with infrared and electronics emissions equipment. Motion detectors had been installed, and rapid response monitors had been placed in every room of the house. If anything, no matter how slight, seemed to be out of the ordinary, night or day, a rapid response team would be on-site within minutes. Noises, power surges, unexplained heat or electronic sources, even airborne chemical odors of explosives would trigger the devices.
Yemm got out first and spoke with the watch commander parked in a van at the end of the driveway, then went up to the house. The front door opened as he reached the porch, and a young woman in blue jeans and a GO NAVY sweatshirt was standing there. Yemm said something to her, then came back to the limo.
“We’ve arranged for you to have a couple of houseguests,” he told McGarvey. “They’ll act as internal security, and they’ll help with the cooking and housework until we get through this.”
Kathleen was an intensely private person, and McGarvey didn’t know how she was going to react. But it would be useless to argue because Yemm was right. This was part and parcel of being DCI. He didn’t think that a lot of DCIs before him much cared for the lack of privacy either. But the help would be welcome. There was no possible way that a housekeeper was going to be vetted before the situation was resolved. And Kathleen was not up to keeping the house running. Not now.
She was indifferent toward the two Office of Security agents, both women about Elizabeth’s age. They introduced themselves as Peggy Vaccaro and Janis Westlake. Vaccaro was short, voluptuous and homely, but she had an incandescent smile. Westlake was tall, thin and boyishly attractive. They seemed competent and sympathetic.
They gave McGarvey a reassuring smile and took Kathleen in hand, clucking and cooing over her as they led her upstairs for a nice soak, a cup of tea and fresh sheets on the bed.
Yemm had an earpiece comms unit that picked up his voice from the vibrations in his jawbone. He was speaking softly as he followed McGarvey into the study.
“Security would like to know if you’ll make your scheduled appearance on the Hill tomorrow morning.”
McGarvey shook his head. “Not tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday. They can put out the word that we’re handling the India-Pakistan problem.”
Yemm relayed the instructions as McGarvey poured a couple of brandies. The workmen had finished over the weekend, and the soft woods of the desk, bookcases and manuscript cabinet gleamed in the soft light from the front hall. McGarvey handed one of the brandies to Yemm. They drank in silence; watching each other for the effects of what they’d gone through on the island.
“That one was close, Dick,” McGarvey said after a long moment.
Yemm nodded. “Mrs. M. saved our lives.” He looked at his drink.
“They’re not going to give up.”
“No, sir, not even if you withdraw your nomination,” Yemm agreed. “Somebody wants you.”
“Somebody on the inside,” McGarvey said, fully aware of where such an idea would take him. When you start suspecting your own people, you might as well give up the fight from the git-go. Jim Angleton had finally figured that out; after practically emasculating the CIA with his paranoia. “Somebody who knew about the VI trip.”
This time around the list was way too short for comfort. And giving up wasn’t an option, if it had ever been.
McGarvey got a couple hours of troubled sleep on the couch in the den, while Yemm, a pistol in his lap, dozed in a chair across the room. They couldn’t settle down. The andrenaline from the near miss was still pumping.
McGarvey opened his eyes when Peggy Vaccaro touched his shoulder. Somebody had thrown a blanket over him. Light streamed in the windows; the morning sky was a brilliant blue.
“Mr. Director, it’s eight o’clock, and Dr. Stenzel is here.”
He shoved the blanket aside and sat up. Peggy Vaccaro handed
him a cup of coffee. “Is my wife awake yet?”
“Yes, sir. The doctor would like to have a word with you before he goes up to see her.”
“Where is he?”
“In your study.”
“Where’s Dick?”
“He couldn’t sleep. He’s in the kitchen making breakfast. Oh, and we’ve laid out some clothes and your shower things in the spare bedroom upstairs. Actually it was Mrs. M.’s idea. She’s worried about you.”
“I’ll go up and see her—”
“No, sir. Mrs. M. asked if we would take care of you until she’s seen the doctor.”
McGarvey mustered a smile and nodded. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had several women fussing over me at the same time.”
Peggy Vaccaro lit up like a sunrise. “Our pleasure, Mr. Director.”
McGarvey took his coffee across to his study, where Dr. Stenzel, dressed in corduroys, a battered bulky knit sweater and a scarf around his neck, was studying the spines of the books on the shelves.
“Thanks for coming out on a Sunday,” McGarvey said. “Coffee?”
Stenzel turned and gave McGarvey a critical once-over. He shook his head. “No. Is someone making a run on the Agency?”
“Otto was an accident, I’m the target,” he told the psychiatrist. “But my wife isn’t holding up very well.”
“I know. I talked to the navy doctors in San Juan this morning. They faxed me their preliminaries, and frankly I’m just as surprised as they are that your wife didn’t suffer a total nervous breakdown. She must be a remarkably strong woman.”
“That she is.”
Stenzel held his silence for a few moments. “I may have to hospitalize her.”
McGarvey was afraid of this. But he was resigned. “Whatever it takes. But give us a little lead time, would you. We have some security considerations.”
Stenzel nodded. “I understand.”
“She’s had some difficult times because of my job.”
“I’ll bet she has,” the Company psychiatrist said. “Does she want you to quit?”
McGarvey shook his head. “No. At least I don’t think she does.”
Stenzel smiled reassuringly. “I’ll go up and talk to her now. We’ll decide what to do afterward.”
One of the girls took the doctor up to see Kathleen. McGarvey checked with Yemm in the kitchen, refilled his coffee cup and went up to the spare bedroom, where he showered, shaved and dressed in the slacks, sweater and tweed sport coat laid out for him.
The assassins had made a big mistake by trying but missing. If there was a next time, and he suspected there would be, he would nail them. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d been down this path before, a lot of times in his twenty-five-year career. He knew the moves and countermoves; the feelings, the impatience, the anxiousness and sometimes the fear. And his family had been involved before too. This time he was sticking it out. He would make his stand here on his home ground. He wasn’t going to run in an attempt to lead them away.
But now that he had what he really wanted, now that he was exactly where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to be doing, and loving and being loved by the woman he’d always admired, he was truly afraid of losing it all.
The muscles in his jaw tightened. One last fight. One last confrontation. One last time.
God help the bastards when he caught up with them.
Stenzel was already finished when McGarvey went downstairs. He was in the kitchen with Yemm.
“How is she?” McGarvey asked.
“Better,” Stenzel said. He seemed perplexed. “But she’s at her limit, I can tell you that much. If something else happens, I think she’ll break.”
McGarvey glanced at Yemm, who pursed his lips. The fight was just starting.
Stenzel caught the exchange. “Either send her away or keep her isolated. I’m telling you that her brain is working overtime right now. Probably has been for a while. And from what I can gather, reading all the reports from San Juan and talking to her just now, the helicopter explosion was a damned close thing.”
“She saved our lives,” McGarvey said. He explained what had happened on the island.
“She probably noticed something, maybe even smelled something wrong,” Stenzel said. He shook his head. “We used to call it women’s intuition. But that’s nothing more than a heightened sense of awareness. Her mind, as I said, is working superfast.”
“She won’t leave,” McGarvey said. “And trying to keep her isolated might be impossible.” He was trying to work out the logistics of keeping Katy safe. But sending her away would not work. It’d be nothing more than another form of his own running away.
“Nevertheless, it’ll have to be done,” Stenzel insisted. “She’ll disintegrate unless she’s removed from the source of her stress; removed either physically or through drugs.”
“We’ll do the best we can,” McGarvey said. It seemed whatever direction he turned there were emotional roadblocks. “Are you going to hospitalize her?”
“Not now. Are you going to continue the confirmation hearings?”
“I don’t have any choice.”
“Then keep the details from your wife.”
“She hasn’t paid any real attention—”
“She knows all about them. Especially the attacks on you by Senator Madden.”
McGarvey winced.
Stenzel glanced again at Yemm. “Is she in any physical danger?”
“Possibly,” Yemm replied.
“Is she aware of it?”
“She is now.” McGarvey said.
“I’ve instructed your security people to call me if there’s any change in her behavior. I’ve left some Librium; we’ll see if that takes the edge off her anxiety. In the meantime she needs to get some rest. If she was in the hospital, I could take care of it, but keep her off the telephone and away from the radio, television, computer, newspapers, whatever.”
McGarvey showed Stenzel to the front door, then went upstairs to the master bedroom. Kathleen was up and dressed in jeans and one of his old flannel shirts. She’d just finished with her makeup when he came in. She managed a timid smile for him.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” McGarvey said, going to her. They embraced. “How are you feeling?”
“A little tired. A little keyed up. But much better.” She brushed a speck of lint off his jacket lapel. “I thought that you might be going into the office this morning, so I had the girls put this out for you.” She looked up at him. “They’re going to be a big help for a few days.”
“The doctor says that you need to get some rest.”
“I’ll take a nap this afternoon. I’ve got work to do on the Beaux Arts invitations. And if I’m not going anywhere for the next few days, I’ll have some phone calls to make. Will this be resolved by then?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“Katy, this isn’t going to be that easy—”
“C’mon, darling, we have a life to get on with. We’re right in the middle of season. The baby is due in five months. And you have to wind up your Senate battle.” She shook her head. “We can’t go on like this, with something like this hanging over our heads.”
McGarvey was at a loss for words. It wasn’t Kathleen talking to him. It was someone else; someone who wasn’t dealing with reality. “We’ll do the best we can.”
“I know,” Kathleen replied. She gave him a pat. “Now get out of here. I have work to do, including soothing our neighbors, who have to be wondering what’s going on over here.”
“Dr. Stenzel doesn’t want you using the phone.”
“Piffle,” she said with a dimissive gesture.
“Are you going to be okay, Katy?”
“I’ve been better. Just get it done, would you?”
“I’ll be home early,” McGarvey said.
He gave her another kiss, then went downstairs. Yemm was waiting in the stairhall, his coat on. He had McGarve
y’s coat in hand. He looked grim.
“What now, Dick?”
“We have to get to work, boss. Elizabeth was hurt on the slopes. They took her to Denver General.”
CIA HEADQUARTERS
The security people inside and outside of the house were informed, but the news was kept from Kathleen. As soon as Yemm pulled out of the driveway and radioed headquarters with the “Hammerhead en route” message, a pair of Maryland Highway Patrol unmarked cruisers moved in front and back as escorts.
McGarvey was beside himself, angry, frustrated, fearful, made all the more worse because he was completely helpless to do anything for them. What could be done was being done by the Office of Security. He had to trust his own people for now.
Adkins was keeping the recall as low-key as possible under the difficult circumstances, but it was impossible to hide the fact that something out of the ordinary was happening. Too many people were showing up at headquarters at odd hours.
By four the telephones had begun to ring, and by 9:00 A.M., when McGarvey walked into his office, the landslide was at full speed. Every newspaper, wire service, television and radio network in the country, it seemed, wanted to know what was going on.
The rumor was that the DCI and his wife were in the USVI for the weekend. The fact was that a helicopter exploded on the beach of a deserted island down there, and within hours the CIA had issued a heads-up to all of its people worldwide.
Yemm went down to Security to pitch in, and Adkins walked in from his office with a stack of file folders, e-mails and faxes from their field people and law enforcement agencies between Washington and the islands.
Ms. Swanfeld had also come in. She brought McGarvey his coffee as he took off his jacket and pushed up his sleeves. “No calls, unless it’s someone I have to talk to,” he told her.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “How is Mrs. McGarvey?”
“She’ll be okay. Thanks for asking.”
“Of course she will be,” Ms. Swanfeld replied as if any other idea were unthinkable. She went out to her desk.
“We couldn’t reach either of them because they left their cell phones in the hotel room,” Adkins said. He laid the files and messages on McGarvey’s desk.
The Kill Zone Page 19
