The Icarus Agenda Part 2

Chapter 34.

Ardis Vanvlanderen gasped. 'Good Christ, what are you doing here?' she cried, literally yanking the rotund Sundstrom through the door and slamming it shut. 'Are you out of your mind?'I'm very much in it, but yours is out to lunch... Stupid, stupid, stupid! What did you and that horse's a.s.s of a husband of yours think you were doing?''The Arabs? The hit teams?''Yes! G.o.dd.a.m.ned fools-''It's all preposterous'.' screamed the widow. 'It's a horrendous mix up. Why would we-why would Andy want to have Bollinger killed?''Bollinger...? It's Kendrick, you b.i.t.c.h! Palestinian terrorists attacked his houses in Virginia and Colorado. There's a blackout on the news but a lot of people were killed, not, however, the golden boy himself.''Kendrick?' whispered Ardis, panic in her large green eyes. 'Oh, my G.o.d... and they think the killers are coming out here to a.s.sa.s.sinate Bollinger. They've got it all backwards!''They?' Sundstrom froze, his face ashen. 'What are you talking about?''We'd both better sit down.' Mrs. Vanvlanderen walked out of the foyer and down into the living room, to the couch and her cigarettes. The pale scientist followed, then veered to a bar where there were bottles, decanters, gla.s.ses and an ice bucket. Without glancing at the labels he picked up a bottle at random and poured himself a drink.''Who is they?' he asked quietly, intensely, as he turned and watched Ardis on the couch lighting a cigarette.'She left about an hour and a half ago-''She? Who?''A woman named Rashad, a counter-terrorist expert. She's with a cross-over unit, CIA joining up with State. She never mentioned Kendrick!''Jesus, they've put it together. Varak said they would and they did!''Who's Varak?''We call him our co-ordinator. He said they'd find out about your Middle East interests.''My what?' shouted the widow, her face contorted, her mouth gaping.'That Off Sh.o.r.e company-''Offsh.o.r.e Investments,' completed Ardis, again stunned. 'It was eight months of my life but that's all it was!''And how you have contacts throughout the whole area-''I have no contacts!' screamed Mrs. Vanvlanderen. 'I left over ten years ago and never went back! The only Arabs I know are a few high rollers I met in London and Divonne.''Rollers in bed or at the tables?''Both, if you want to know, lover boy!... Why would they think that?''Because you gave them a d.a.m.n good reason to start looking when you had that son of a b.i.t.c.h cremated this morning!''Andy?''Was there someone else hanging around here who happened to drop dead? Or perhaps was poisoned? In a cover-up!''What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?''Your fourth or fifth husband's body, that's what I'm talking about. No sooner does it reach the d.a.m.ned mortuary than you're on the phone ordering his immediate cremation. You think that's not going to start people wondering-people who are paid to wonder about things like that? No autopsy, ashes somewhere over the Pacific.''I never made such a call!' roared Ardis, leaping up from the couch. 'I never gave such an order!''You did!' yelled Sundstrom. 'You said you and Andrew had a pact.''I didn't say it and we didn't have one!''Varak doesn't bring us wrong information,' stated the high-tech scientist firmly.'Then someone lied to him.' The widow suddenly lowered her voice. 'Or he was lying.''Why would he? He's never lied before.''I don't know,' said Ardis, sitting down and stabbing out her cigarette. 'Eric,' she continued, looking up at Inver Bra.s.s's traitor. 'Why did you come all the way out here to tell me this? Why didn't you just call? You have our private numbers.''Varak again. n.o.body really knows how he can do what he does, still he does it. He's in Chicago, but he's made arrangements to be given the telephone number of every incoming call to Bollinger's office and residence, as well as the office and residence of each member of his staff. Under those conditions I don't make phone calls.''In your case it might be hard to explain to that council of senile lunatics you belong to. And the only calls I've had were from the office and friends with condolences. Also the Rashad woman; none of those would interest Mr. Varak or your benevolent society of rich misfits.''The Rashad woman. You say she didn't mention the attacks on Kendrick's houses. a.s.suming Varak's wrong and the investigating units haven't put certain facts together and come up with you and perhaps a few others out here, why didn't she? She had to know about them.'Ardis Vanvlanderen reached for a cigarette, her eyes now betraying an unfamiliar helplessness. 'There could be several reasons,' she said without much conviction as she snapped up the flame of the lighter. 'To begin with, the Vice President is frequently overlooked where clearances are concerned regarding security blackouts-Truman had never heard of the Manhattan Project. Then there's the matter of avoiding panic, if these attacks took place-and I'm not ready to concede that they did. Your Varak's been caught in one lie; he's capable of another. In addition, if the full extent of the damage in Virginia and Colorado was known, we might lose staff control. No one likes to think he might be killed by suicidal terrorists... Finally, I go back to the attacks themselves. I don't believe they ever happened.'Sundstrom stood motionless, gripping the gla.s.s in both hands, as he stared down at his former lover. 'He did it, didn't he, Ardis?' he said softly. 'That financial megalomaniac couldn't stand the possibility that a small group of "benevolent misfits" might replace his man with another who could cut off his pipeline to millions and probably would.'The widow collapsed back into the couch, her long neck arched, her eyes closed. 'Eight hundred million,' she whispered. 'That's what he said. Eight hundred million for him alone, billions for all the rest of you.''He never told you what he was doing, what he had done?''Good Christ, no! I'd have put a bullet in his head and called one of you to deep-six him in Mexico.''I believe you.''Will the others?' Ardis sat up, her eyes pleading.'Oh, I think so. They know you.''I swear to you, Eric, I didn't know a thing!''I said I believed you.''The Rashad woman told me they were tracing the money he sent through Zurich. Can they do that?''If I knew Andrew, it would take them months. His coded pay-in sources ranged from South Africa to the Baltic. Months, a year, perhaps.''Will the others know that?''We'll see what they say.''What?... Eric!''I called Grinell from the airport in Baltimore. He's no part of Bollinger's staff and G.o.d knows he stays in the background, but if we have a chairman of the board, I think we'd all agree he's the fellow.''Eric, what are you telling me?' asked Mrs. Vanvlanderen, her voice flat.'He'll be here in a few minutes. We agreed we should have a talk. I wanted a little time with you alone but he should be here shortly.' Sundstrom glanced at his watch.'You've got that gla.s.sy look in your eyes, lover boy,' said Ardis, slowly getting up from the couch.'Oh, yes,' agreed the scientist. 'The one you always laughed at when I couldn't... shall we say, perform.''Your mind was so often on other things. You're such a brilliant man.''Yes, I know. You once said that you always knew when I was solving a problem. I went limp.''I loved your mind. I still love it.''How could you? You don't really have one yourself so how would you know.''Eric, Grinell frightens me.''He doesn't frighten me. He has a mind.'The chimes of the front door filled the Vanvlanderen suite.Kendrick sat in a small canvas chair by the cot in the cabin of the jet that was flying them to Denver. Emmanuel Weingra.s.s, his wounds prevented from further bleeding by the surviving nurse in Mesa Verde, kept blinking his dark eyes, made darker by the lined white flesh surrounding them.'I've been thinking,' said Manny with difficulty, half coughing the words.'Don't talk,' broke in Evan. 'Conserve your strength. Please?''Oh, get off it,' replied the old man. 'What have I got? Twenty more years and I don't get laid?''Will you stop it?''No, I won't stop it. Five years I don't see you so we get back together and what happens? You get too attached-to me. What are you, a feygele with a hang-up for old guys?... Don't answer that, Khalehla will do it for you. You two must have busted your parts last night.''Why don't you ever talk like a normal person?''Because normalcy bores me, just like you're beginning to bore me... Don't you know what all this s.h.i.t is about? I brought up a dummy? You can't figure?''No, I can't figure, all right?''That lovely girl was on the b.u.t.ton. Someone wants to make you very important in this country, and someone else is having bowel movements over the prospect. You can't see that?''I'm beginning to, and I hope the other guys win. I don't want to be important.''Maybe you should be. Maybe it's where you belong.''Who the h.e.l.l says so? Who thinks so?''The people who don't want you-you think about that. Khalehla told us that these garbage maniacs who came over here to kill you didn't just hop on a plane from Paris or walk off a cruise ship. They had help, influential help. How did she put it?... Pa.s.sports, weapons, money-even drivers' licences and clothes and hideouts. Those things, especially the paperwork, you don't pick up at a corner store. They take contacts with power in high places, and the people who can pull those kinds of strings are the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who want you dead... Why? Does the outspoken congressman pose a threat to them?''How can I be a threat? I'm getting out.''They don't know that. All they see is a mensch politician who, when he opens his mouth, everybody in Washington shuts up and listens to.''I don't talk that much, so the listening's minor, practically nonexistent.''The point is that when you do talk, they don't. You got what I call listening credentials. Like I do, frankly.' Weingra.s.s coughed, bringing a trembling hand to his throat. Evan bent over him, concerned.'Take it easy, Manny.''Be quiet,' ordered the old man. 'You hear what I've got to say... Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds see a real American hero who's awarded a big medal by the President and put on important committees in the Congress-''The committees came before the medal-''Don't interrupt. After a couple of months the sequence of things blurs-anyway, you just made it stronger. This hero takes on the Pentagon bra.s.s over national television before he's a hero and d.a.m.n near indicts the whole d.a.m.ned bunch of them as well as all those big industrial complexes who supply the machine. Then what does he do? He demands accountability. Terrific word, accountability-the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds all hate it. They've got to start sweating, kid. They've got to figure that maybe this joker-hero will get more powerful, maybe chair one of those committees, or even get elected to the Senate where he could do some real damage.''You're exaggerating.''Your girlfriend wasn't!' countered Weingra.s.s loudly, staring into Kendrick's eyes. 'She told us that her elite group may have tapped into a nerve centre higher up in the government than they want to think about... Doesn't all this present a blueprint to you, although I admit you were never the hottest shot with a blueprint I ever knew?''Of course it does,' answered Evan, nodding slowly. 'There's no nation in the world that doesn't have its degrees of corruption, and I doubt there ever will be.''Oh, corruption?' intoned Manny, eyes rolling, as if the word were part of a Talmudic chant. 'Like in one guy stealing a buck's worth of paper clips from the office and another taking a million with a cost overrun, is that what you mean?''Basically, yes. Or ten million, if you like.''Insignificant peanuts!' shouted Weingra.s.s. 'Such people do not deal with Palestinian terrorists thousands of miles away for the sole purpose of positively removing themselves from a kill. They wouldn't know howl Also, you didn't look into that lovely girl's eyes, or maybe you don't know what to look for. You've never been there.''She says she knows where you're coming from because you have been there. All right, I haven't, so what are you talking about?''When you're there, you're scared,' said the old man. 'You're walking towards a black curtain that you're going to pull down. You're excited; the curiosity's killing you and so is the fear. All of those things. You try like h.e.l.l to suppress them, even hide some from yourself, and that's part of it because you can't afford to lose an ounce of control. But it's all there. Because once that curtain is yanked away you know you'll be looking at something so nuts you wonder if anyone will believe it.''You saw all that in her eyes?''Enough, yes.''Why?''She's getting near the edge, kid.''Why?''Because we're not dealing-she's not dealing-with simple corruption, even terrific corruption. What's behind that black curtain is a government within the government, a bunch of servants running the master's house.' The old architect suddenly went into a spasm of coughing, his whole body trembling, his eyes shut tight. Kendrick grabbed his arms; in moments the convulsion was over and Manny blinked again, breathing deeply. 'Listen to me, my dumb son,' he whispered. 'Help her, really help her, and help Payton. Find the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and rip them out!''Of course I will, you know that.''I hate them! That youngster under chemicals, that Ahbyahd you knew in Masqat-we might have been friends in another time. But that time won't ever come as long as there are b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who pit ourselves against ourselves because they make billions out of hatred.''It's not that simple, Manny-''It's a larger part of it than you think! I've seen it!... "They have more than you do, so we'll sell you more than they have"-that's one of the come-ons. Or "They'll kill you unless you kill them first, so here's the firepower... for a price." It goes right up the G.o.dd.a.m.ned ladder: "They spent twenty million on a missile, we'll spend forty million!" Do we really want to blow up the f.u.c.king planet? Or is everyone listening to lunatics who listen to men who sell hatred and peddle fear?''On that level, it's that simple,' said Evan, smiling. 'I may even have mentioned it myself.''Keep mentioning it, kid. Don't walk away from that platform we talked about-mainly regarding a certain Herbert Dennison we also talked about whom you scared the s.h.i.t out of. Remember, you got listening credentials like me. Use 'em.''I'll have to think about it, Manny.''Well, while you're thinking,' coughed Weingra.s.s, his right hand on his chest, 'why don't you think about why you had to lie to me? You and the doctors, that is.''What?''It's back, Evan. It's back and it's worse because it never went away.''What's back?''"Big casino", I think is the gentle phrase. The cancer's running rampant.''No, it isn't. We ran you through a dozen tests. They got it-you're clean.''Tell that to these little suckers who are choking off my air.''I'm no doctor, Manny, but I don't think that's a symptom. During the last thirty-six hours you've been through a couple of wars. It's a wonder you can breathe at all.''Yeah, but while they're patching me up at the hospital you have them run one of those little checks, and don't lie to me. There are some people in Paris I've got to take care of, some things I've got locked away they should have. So don't lie to me, understand?''I won't lie to you,' said Kendrick as the aircraft started its descent into Denver.Crayton Grinell was a slender man of medium height and a perpetually grey face made prominent by sharp features. When greeting someone, for the first time or the fiftieth, whether a waiter or a board chairman, the forty-eight-year-old attorney who specialized in international law greeted that person with a shy smile that conveyed warmth. The warmth and the modesty were accepted readily until one looked into Grinell's eyes. It was not that they were cold, for they were not, yet neither were they particularly friendly; they were expressionless, neutral, the eyes of a cautiously curious cat. 'Ardis, my dear Ardis,' said the lawyer, walking into the foyer and holding the widow, gently patting her shoulder as one might console a faintly disagreeable aunt who had lost a far more agreeable husband. 'What can I say? What can anyone say? Such a loss for us all, but how much more so for you.''It was sudden, Cray. Too sudden.''Of course it was, but we must all look for something positive in our sorrows, mustn't we? You and he were spared a prolonged and agonizing illness. Since the end must come, it's better if it's quick, isn't it?''I suppose you're right. Thank you for reminding me.''Not at all.' Disengaging himself, Grinell looked over at Sundstrom, who was standing in the large sunken living room. 'Eric, how good to see you,' he said solemnly, walking across the foyer and down the marble steps to shake hands with the scientist. 'Somehow it's right that we both should be with Ardis at a time like this. Incidentally, my men are outside in the hallway.''f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!' Sundstrom mouthed the words, his breath a whisper as the grieving Mrs. Vanvlanderen closed the door, the sound of the closing and the noise of her heels on the marble covering the mumble uttered by her former lover.'Would you care for a drink, Cray?''Oh, no thank you.''I think I will,' said Ardis, heading for the bar.'I think you should,' agreed the attorney.'Is there anything I can do? At the legal end here, or with arrangements, anything at all?''I imagine you'll be doing it, the legal things, I mean. Andy-boy had lawyers all over the place, but I gathered you were his main man.''Yes, I was, and we've all been in touch during the day. New York, Washington, London, Paris, Ma.r.s.eilles, Oslo, Stockholm, Bern, Zurich, West Berlin-I'm handling everything personally, of course.'The widow stood motionless, a decanter halfway to her gla.s.s, staring at Grinell. 'When I said all over the place, I didn't think that far all over the place.''His interests were extensive.''Zurich...?' said Ardis, as if the name of the city had slipped out unintentionally.'It's in Switzerland,' broke in Sundstrom harshly. 'And let's cut the c.r.a.p.''Eric, really-''Don't "Eric, really" me, Cray. That bullheaded horse's a.s.s did it. He contracted the Palestinians and paid them out of Zurich... Remember Zurich, sweetie'? ... I told you in Baltimore, Cray. He did it!''I couldn't get a confirmation on the a.s.saults in Fairfax or Colorado,' said Grinell calmly.'Because they never happened!' yelled the widow, her right hand trembling as she poured a drink from the heavy crystal decanter.'I didn't say that, Ardis,' objected the lawyer softly. 'I merely said I couldn't get a confirmation. However, I did get a later call, no doubt placed by a well-paid drunk who was handed a phone after the number was dialled, thus eliminating the ident.i.ty of the source. The words he obviously repeated are all too familiar. "They're following the money," he said.''Oh, Jesus!' exclaimed Mrs. Vanvlanderen.'So now we have two crises,' continued Grinell, walking to a white marble telephone on a red-lined marble table against the wall. 'Our weak, ubiquitous Secretary of State is on his way to Cyprus to sign an agreement that could cripple the defence industry, and one of our own is linked to Palestinian terrorists... In a way, I wish to heaven I knew how Andrew did it. We may be far clumsier.' He dialled as the widow and the scientist watched. 'The switch from Design Six to Design Twelve, Mediterranean, is confirmed,' said the attorney into the phone. 'And prepare the medical unit, if you will, please.'

Chapter 35.

Varak raced around the corner to the service entrance and took the freight elevator up to his floor. He then walked rapidly to his rooms, unlocked the door and rushed to the sophisticated vertical recording equipment against the wall, somewhat startled to see that so much tape had been used. He ascribed it to various telephone calls received by Ardis Vanvlanderen. He flipped the switch that allowed dual transmission, tape and direct audio, put on the earphones and sat down to listen.She left about an hour and a half ago.She? Who?A woman named Rashad, a counter terrorist expert. She's with a cross-over unit...The Czech glanced at the spool of exposed tape. There were at least twenty-five minutes of recorded conversation on it! What was the former operations officer from Egypt doing in San Diego? It made no sense to Milos. She had resigned from the Agency; he had confirmed it. The quiet but official word out of Cairo and Washington was that she had been 'open to compromise'. He had a.s.sumed it was the Oman operation and entirely accepted her vanishing. She had to fade-but she had not! He listened further to the conversation taking place in the Vanvlanderen suite. Sundstrom was speaking.He did it, didn't he, Ardis? That financial megalomaniac couldn't stand the possibility that a small group of benevolent misfits might replace his man with another who could cut off his pipeline to millions and probably would.Then Ardis Vanvlanderen.Eight hundred million, that's what he said. Eight hundred million for him alone, billions for all the rest of you... I didn't know a thing!Varak was stunned. He had made two enormous errors! The first concerned the covert activities of Adrienne Khalehla Rashad, and difficult as it was for him to accept this error, he could do so, for she was an experienced intelligence officer. The second he could not accept! The false scenario he had presented to Inver Bra.s.s had been true! It had never occurred to him that Andrew Vanvlanderen would act independently of his wife. How could he? Theirs was a La Rochefoucauld marriage, one of convenience, of mutual benefit, certainly not of affection, to say nothing of love. Andy-boy had broken the rules. A bull in financial heat had crashed open the gates of his corral and raced into the slaughterhouse. Varak listened.Another voice, another name. A man named Crayton Grinell. The tape rolled as the Czech concentrated on the words being spoken. Finally:So now we have two crises. Our weak, ubiquitous Secretary of State is on his way to Cyprus to sign an agreement that could cripple the defence industry... The switch from Design Six to Design Twelve, Mediterranean, is confirmed.Varak tore off the earphones. Whatever remained to be heard in the Vanvlanderen suite would be recorded. He had to move quickly. He got out of the chair and rushed across the room to the telephone. He picked it up and pressed the numbers for Cynwid Hollow, Maryland.'Yes?''Sir, it's Varak.''What is it, Milos? What have you learned?''It's Sundstrom-''What?''That can wait, Dr Winters, something else cannot. The Secretary of State is flying to Cyprus. Can you find out when?''I don't have to find out, I know. So does everyone else who watches television or listens to the radio. It's quite a breakthrough-''When, sir?''He left London about an hour ago. There was the usual statement about bringing the world closer to peace and that sort of thing-''In the Mediterranean,' interrupted Varak, controlling his voice. 'It will happen in the Mediterranean.''What will?''I don't know. A strategy called Design Twelve, that's all I heard. It will happen on the ground or in the air. They want to stop him.''Who does?''The contributors. A man named Grinell, Crayton Grinell. If I tried to break in and find out, they might take me. There are men outside the door and I cannot jeopardize the group. I certainly would never willingly disclose information, but there are drugs-''Yes, I know.''Reach Frank Swann at the State Department. Tell the switchboard to raise him wherever he is and use the phrase "crisis containment".''Why Swann?''He's a specialist, sir. He ran the Oman operation for State.''Yes, I know that, but I might have to tell him more than I care to... There may be a better way, Milos. Stay on the line, I'm going to put you on hold.' Each ten seconds that went by seemed like minutes to Varak, then they were minutes! What was Winters doing? They did not have minutes to waste. Finally the spokesman for Inver Bra.s.s was back on the phone. 'I'm going to switch us to a conference call, Milos. Another will be joining us, but it's understood that neither of you is required to identify yourself. I trust this man completely and he accepts the condition. He's also in what you term "crisis containment" and has far greater resources than Swann.' There were two clicks over the line and Winters continued. 'Go ahead, gentlemen. Mr. A, this is Mr. B.''I understand you have something to tell me, Mr. A.''Yes, I do,' replied Varak. 'The circ.u.mstances are not relevant but the information is verified. The Secretary of State is in imminent danger. There are people who do not want him to attend the conference in Cyprus and they intend to stop him. They're employing a plan or a tactic called "Design Twelve, Mediterranean". The individual who gave the order is named Grinell, a Crayton Grinell of San Diego. I know nothing about him.''I see... Let me phrase this as delicately as I can, Mr. A. Are you in a position to tell us the current whereabouts of this Grinell?''I have no choice, Mr. B. The Westlake Hotel. Suite 3C. I have no idea how long he'll be there. Hurry, and send firepower. He's guarded.''Will you do me the courtesy, Mr. A, of remaining on the line for a moment or two?''So you can trace this leg of the call?''I wouldn't do that. I've given my word.''He'll keep it,' interrupted Samuel Winters.'It's difficult for me,' said the Czech.'I'll be quick.'A single click was heard and Winters spoke. 'You really didn't have a choice, Milos. The Secretary is the sanest man in the administration.''I'm aware of that, sir.''I can't get over Sundstrom! Why?''No doubt a combination of reasons, not least of which are his patents in s.p.a.ce technology. Others may build the hardware but the government is the primary buyer. s.p.a.ce is now synonymous with defence.''He can't want more money! He gives most of it away.''But if the market slows down, so does production and therefore the experimentation-the last is a pa.s.sion with him.'Another click. 'I'm back, Mr. A,' said the third party. 'Everyone's alerted over in the Mediterranean, and arrangements have been made to pick up Grinell in San Diego, as quietly as possible, of course.''Why was it necessary for me to remain on the phone?''Because, quite frankly, if I hadn't been able to make the arrangements in San Diego,' said Mitch.e.l.l Payton, 'I was going to appeal to your patriotism for further a.s.sistance. You're obviously an experienced man.''What kind of a.s.sistance?''Nothing that would compromise our understanding with regard to this call. Only to follow Grinell should he leave the hotel and call our go-between with the information.''What made you think I'm in a position to do that?''I didn't. I could only hope, and there were several things to do quickly, mainly the Mediterranean.''For your information, I'm not in such a position,' lied Varak. 'I'm nowhere near the hotel.''Then I may have made two mistakes. I mentioned "patriotism", but by the way you speak, this may not be your country.''It is my country now,' said the Czech.'Then it owes you a great deal.''I must go.' Varak hung up the phone and walked rapidly back to the tape machine. He sat down and clamped the earphones over his head, his eyes straying to the reel of tape. It had stopped. He listened. Nothing. Silence! In desperation he snapped a succession of switches up and down and left and right. There was no response with any of them... no sound. The voice-activated recorder was not functioning because the Vanvlanderen suite was empty! He had to move! Above everything he had to find Sundstrom! For the sake of Inver Bra.s.s, the traitor had to be killed.Khalehla walked down the wide corridor towards the elevators. She had called MJ and after discussing the horror of Mesa Verde, played him the entire conversation with Ardis Vanvlanderen that she had recorded on the miniaturized equipment concealed in her black notebook. Both were satisfied; the grieving widow had left her grief behind in a sea of hysteria. It was apparent to both of them that Mrs. Vanvlanderen had known nothing about her dead husband's contract with the terrorists, but had learned about it after the fact. The sudden appearance of an intelligence officer from Cairo with the upside-down information she carried had been enough to send Ardis the manipulator right through the roof of her skull. Uncle Mitch had been true to form.'Take five, Field Officer Rashad.''I'd like to take a shower and have a quiet meal. I don't think I've eaten since the Bahamas.''Order room service. We'll stand for one of your outrageous bills. You've earned it.''I hate room service. All those waiters who deliver food for a single female preen as though they're the answer to her s.e.xual fantasies. If I can't have one of my grandmother's meals-''You can't.''Okay. Then I know a few good restaurants-''Go ahead. By midnight I'll have a list of every telephone number our distraught widow has called. Eat well, my dear. Get energy. You may be working all night.''You're too generous. May I call Evan, who with any luck could be my intended?''You may but you won't get him. Colorado Springs sent a jet to take him and Emmanuel to the hospital in Denver. They're airborne.''Thanks again.''You're welcome, Rashad.''You're too kind, sir.'Khalehla pressed the b.u.t.ton for the elevator, hearing the rumble in her stomach. She had not eaten since the meal on the Air Force jet, and that had been somewhat destroyed by the nervous enzymes produced by Evan's condition-the vomiting and all it signified... Dear Evan, brilliant Evan, dumb Evan. The risk-taker with more morals than suited his approach to life; she wondered briefly if he would have that same integrity if he had failed. It was an open question; he was a compulsively compet.i.tive man who looked somewhat arrogantly down from his perch of not having failed. And it was not hard to understand how he had fallen under the spell, or sh.e.l.l, of Ardis Montreaux in Saudi Arabia ten or twelve years ago. That girl must have been something, a flashy lady on a fast track with a face and a body to go with the course. Yet he had fled from the spider-that was her Evan.She heard the ping of the bell and the elevator doors parted. Happily, it was empty; she stepped inside and pressed the b.u.t.ton for the lobby. The panels closed and the machine started its descent only to slow down immediately. She looked up at the lighted numbers over the doors; the elevator was stopping at the third floor. It was simply a coincidence, she thought. MJ was sure that Ardis Vanvlanderen, proprietor of Suite 3C, would not dare leave the hotel.The doors opened, and while her eyes remained disinterestedly straight ahead, Khalehla was relieved to peripherally see that the pa.s.senger was a lone man with light-coloured hair and what appeared to be immense shoulders that filled out his jacket to the point of almost stretching the fabric. Yet there was something strange about him, she thought. As one can when alone with a single human being in a small enclosure, she could sense a high level of energy emanating from her unknown companion. There was an atmosphere of anger or anxiety that seemed to permeate the small area. Then she could feel him looking at her, not the way men usually appraised her-furtively, with glances; she was used to that-but staring at her, the unseen eyes steady, intense, unwavering.The doors closed as she casually grimaced to herself; it was the expression of someone who may have forgotten something. Again casually, she opened her bag as if to check for the possibly missing item. She exhaled audibly, her face relaxed; the item was there. It was. Her gun. The elevator began its descent as she glanced at the stranger.She froze! His eyes were two orbs of controlled white heat, and the short, neatly combed hair was light blond. He could be no one else!. The blond European... he was one of them! Khalehla lurched for the panel as she yanked out her automatic, dropping her bag and pressing the emergency b.u.t.ton. Beyond the doors, the alarm sounded as the elevator jerked to a stop and the blond man stepped forward.Khalehla fired, the explosion deafening in the tight enclosure, the bullet pa.s.sing over the intense stranger's head as it was meant to.'Stop where you are!' she commanded. 'If you know anything about me, you know my next shot will go right into your forehead.''You are the Rashad woman,' said the blond man, his speech accented, his voice strained.'I don't know who you are, but I know what you are. Sc.u.m-rotten, that's what you are! Evan was right. All these months, all the stories about him, the congressional committees, the coverage over the world. It was to set him up for a Palestinian kill! It was as simple as that!''No, you are wrong, wrong,' protested the European as the alarm bell outside kept up its abrasive ringing. 'And you must not stop me now! A terrible thing is about to happen and I've been in touch with your people in Washington.'"Who? Who in Washington?''We don't give names-''Bulls.h.i.t!''Please, Miss Rashad! A man is getting away.''Not you, Blondie-'Where the blows came from and how they were delivered with such speed Khalehla would never know. For an instant there had been a blurring motion on her left, then a surging hand, as fast as any human hand she had ever seen, stung her right arm, followed by a counterclockwise twist of her right wrist, wrenching the weapon away. Where she might have expected her wrist to be broken it merely burned, as if briefly scalded by a splash of boiling water. The European stood in front of her holding the gun. 'I did not mean to harm you,' he said.'You're very good, Sc.u.m-rotten, I'll give you that.''We are not enemies, Miss Rashad.''Somehow I find that hard to believe.' The elevator telephone rang from the box below the panel, its bell echoing off the four walls of the small enclosure. 'You're not getting out of here,' added Khalehla.'Wait,' said the blond man as the ringing persisted. 'You saw Mrs. Vanvlanderen.''She told you that. So what?''She couldn't have,' broke in the European. 'I've never met her but I have taped her. She had visitors later. They talked about you-she and two other men, one named Grinell.''I never heard of him.''They're both traitors, enemies of your government, of your country, to be precise, as your country was conceived.' The telephone kept up its insistent ringing.'Fast words, Mr. No Name.''No more words!' cried the blond man, reaching under his jacket and withdrawing a thin large black automatic. He flipped both weapons around, gripping the barrels, the handles extended towards Khalehla. 'Here. Take them. Give me a chance, Miss Rashad!'Astonished, Khalehla held the guns and looked into the eyes of the European. She had seen that plea in too many eyes before. It was not the look of a man afraid to die for a cause, but furious about the prospect of not living to pursue it. 'All right,' she said slowly. 'I may or I may not. Turn around, your arms against the wall! Farther back, your weight on your hands!' The telephone was now a steady, deafening ring as the field officer from Cairo expertly ran her fingers over the body of the blond man, concentrating on the armpits, the indented sh.e.l.l of his waist and his ankles. There were no weapons on him. 'Stay there,' she ordered as she reached down and pulled out the telephone from the box. 'We couldn't open the panel for the phone!' she exclaimed.'Our engineer is on his way, madam. He was on his dinner break but we've just located him. We apologize profusely. However, our indicators show no fire or-''I think we're the ones to apologize,' interrupted Khalehla. 'It was all a mistake-my mistake. I pushed the wrong b.u.t.ton. If you'll just tell me how to make it work again, we'll be fine.''Oh? Yes, yes, of course,' said the male voice, suppressing his irritation. 'In the telephone box there's a switch...'The lobby doors opened and the European immediately spoke to the formally dressed manager who was waiting for them. 'There is a business a.s.sociate I was to meet here quite some time ago. I'm afraid I overslept-a long, trying flight from Paris. His name is Grinell, have you seen him?''Mr. Grinell and the distraught Mrs. Vanvlanderen left a few minutes ago with their guests, sir. I a.s.sume it was a memorial service for her husband, a fine, fine gentleman.''Yes, he, too, was an a.s.sociate. We were to be at the service but we never got the address. Do you know it?''Oh, no, sir.''Would anybody? Would the doorman have heard any instructions to a taxi?''Mr. Grinell has his own limousine-limousines, actually.''Let's go,' said Khalehla quietly, taking the blond man's arm. 'You're becoming a little obvious,' she continued as they walked towards the front entrance.'I may have failed, which is far more important.''What's your name?''Milos. Just call me Milos.''I want more than that. I've got the fire, remember?''If we can reach an acceptable accommodation, I'll tell you more.''You're going to tell me one h.e.l.l of a lot more, Mr. Milos, and there won't be any more of those fast manoeuvres of yours. Your gun is in my bag, and mine is under my coat aimed at your chest.''What do we do now, Miss Supposedly Retired Central Intelligence Officer from Egypt?''We eat, you nosy b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I'm starved, but I'll pick up every morsel of food with my left hand. If you make a wrong move across the table, you'll never be able to have children, and not just because you're dead. Am I clear?''You must be very good.''Good enough, Mr. Milos, good enough. I'm half Arab and don't you forget it.'They sat opposite each other in a large circular booth selected by Khalehla in an Italian restaurant two blocks north of the hotel. Varak had detailed everything he had heard over the earphones from the Vanvlanderen suite. 'I was shocked. I never thought for an instant that Andrew Vanvlanderen would act unilaterally.''You mean without his wife putting "a bullet in his head" and calling one of the others to "deep six" him in Mexico?''Exactly. She would have done it, you know. He was stupid.''I disagree, he was very bright, considering his purpose. Everything that was done to and for Evan Kendrick led to a logical jaremat thaar, Arabic for a vengeance kill. You provided that, Mr. Milos, starting with the first moment you met Frank Swann at the State Department.''Never with that intention, I a.s.sure you. I never thought it was remotely possible.''You were wrong.''I was wrong.''Let's go back to that first moment-in fact, let's go back over the whole d.a.m.n thing!''There's nothing to go back over. I've said nothing of substance.''But we know far more than you think. We just had to unravel the string, as my superior put it... A reluctant freshman congressman is manipulated on to important congressional committees, positions that others would sell their daughters for. Then because of mysteriously absentee chairmen, he's on national television, which leads to more exposure, topped by the explosive, worldwide story about his covert actions in Oman, and ending up with the President awarding him the highest medal a civilian can get. The agenda is pretty clear, isn't it?''It was organized quite well, in my opinion.''And now there's about to be launched a national campaign to place him on the party ticket, in effect making him the next Vice President of the United States.''You know about that?''Yes, and it's hardly a spontaneous act on the part of the body politic.''I trust it will appear so.''Where are you coming from?' asked Khalehla, leaning over, picking at her veal dish with the left hand, her right out of sight under the table.'I must tell you, Miss Rashad, that it pains me to watch you eating so awkwardly. I'm not a threat to you and I won't run.''How can I be sure of either? That you're not a threat and that you won't run?''Because in certain areas our interests are the same, and I am willing to work with you on a limited basis.''My G.o.d, what arrogance! Would Your Eminence be so kind as to describe these areas and the limits of your generous a.s.sistance?''Certainly. To begin with, the safety of the Secretary of State and exposing those who would have him killed as well as discovering why, although I think we can a.s.sume the reason. Then the capture of the terrorists who attacked Congressman Kendrick's houses with considerable loss of life, and confirming the Vanvlanderen connection-''You know about Fairfax and Mesa Verde?' Varak nodded. 'The blackout's total.''Which brings us to the limits of my partic.i.p.ation. I must remain far in the background and will not discuss my activities except in the most general terms. I will, however, if it's necessary, refer you by code name to certain individuals in the government who will attest to my dependability in security matters here and abroad.''You don't think much of yourself, do you?'Milos smiled cautiously. 'I really don't have an opinion. However, I come from a country whose government was stolen from the people, and made up my mind years ago what I would do with my life. I have confidence in the methods I've developed. If that's arrogance, so be it, and I apologize, but I don't think of it that way.'Khalehla slowly pulled her right hand out from under the table and with her left picked up the bag at her side. She shoved her automatic into it and leaned back, shaking her hand to restore circulation. 'I think we can dispense with the hardware, and you're right, it's terribly awkward trying to cut meat with a left-handed fork while your other wrist is paralysed.''I was going to suggest that you order something simpler, perhaps an antipasto, or a dish you might eat with your fingers, but I didn't feel it was my place.''Do I detect a sense of humour behind that severe expression?''An attempt, perhaps, but I don't feel very humorous at the moment. I won't until I know the Secretary of State has arrived safely in Cyprus.''You alerted the proper people; there's nothing more you can do. They'll take care of him.''I'm counting on it.''Then to business, Mr. Milos,' said Khalehla, returning to her meal, again slowly, her eyes on Varak. 'Why Kendrick? Why did you do it? Above all, how did you do it? You tapped into sources that were supposedly untappable! You went in where no one should be able to go and ripped out secrets, stole a theft proof file. Whoever gave you those should be taken out and put in the field so he'd know what it's like to have no protection, to be naked without weapons in the dark streets of a hostile city.''Whatever a.s.sistance was given to me was rendered by a source who trusted me, who knew where I was coming from, as you phrased it.''But why?'I'll give you a limited response, Miss Rashad, and speak only in general terms.''Hoorah for you. So give.''This country imperatively needs changes in an administration that will undoubtedly be re-elected.''Who says so other than the voters?''Off limits, except again, in general terms... although I shouldn't have to use even them. You've seen for yourself.'Khalehla put down her fork and looked at the European. 'San Diego? Vanvlanderen? Grinell?''San Diego, Vanvlanderen and Grinell,' repeated the Czech quietly. 'To clarify further: Moneys obviously sent through Zurich and Beirut to the Baaka Valley for the purpose of eliminating a political contender, namely, Congressman Kendrick. And now an apparent attempt to stop a brilliant Secretary of State from attending a disarmament conference whose purpose is to reduce the proliferation-the production of s.p.a.ce and nuclear weapons.''San Diego,' said Khalehla, leaving her food on the plate. 'Orson Bollinger?''An enigma,' replied Varak. 'What does he know? What doesn't he know? No matter, he's the rallying point, the funnel into an unbeatable administration. He has to be replaced, thus eliminating the people around him who order him to march to their drums.''But why Evan Kendrick?''Because he is now an unbeatable contender.''He'll never accept it; he'll tell you to go to h.e.l.l. You don't know him, I do.''A man doesn't necessarily want to do what he must do, Miss Rashad. But he will do it if the reasons are made clear to him why he should.''You think that's enough?''I don't know Mr. Kendrick personally, of course, but I don't think there's another human being I've studied so closely. He's a remarkable man, yet so realistically modest about his achievements. He made a great deal of money out of an exploding Middle East economy then walked away from millions more because he was morally offended and emotionally distraught. He then entered the political arena for no other reason than to replace a-what did you call me?- sc.u.m-rotten, who was lining his pockets in Colorado. Finally, he went to Oman knowing he might not come back for he believed he could help in a crisis. That's not a man you take lightly. He may but you don't.''Oh, good Lord,' said Khalehla. 'I'm hearing a variation of my own words.''In support of his political advancement?''No, to explain why he wasn't a liar. But I should tell you there's another reason why he went back to Oman. It falls under the not too benevolent heading of a kill. He was convinced he knew who was behind the terrorists in Masqat: the same monster who'd been responsible for killing all seventy-eight people who made up the Kendrick Group, including wives and children. He was right; the man was executed according to Arabic law.''That's hardly a negative, Miss Rashad.''No, it isn't, but it somewhat alters the circ.u.mstances.''I'd prefer to think it adds a dimension of properly-sought justice, which further confirms our choice of him.''Our?''Off limits.''I repeat, he'll turn it down.''He will if he learns how he was manipulated. He may not if he's convinced he is needed.'Khalehla again leaned back in the booth, studying the Czech. 'If I'm hearing correctly, you're suggesting something that's deeply offensive to me.''It shouldn't be.' Varak sat forward. 'No one can force a man to accept elective office, Miss Rashad, he has to seek it. Conversely, no one can force a political party's leading senators and congressmen to accept a new candidate, they must want him. It's true that circ.u.mstances were created to bring out the man, but we could not create the man; he was there to begin with.''You're asking me not to tell him about this conversation, not to tell him about you... Have you any idea how many weeks we've been looking for you?''Have you any idea how many months we looked for Evan Kendrick?''I don't give a d.a.m.n! He was manipulated and he knows it. You can't hide, I won't let you. You've put him through too much. Dear friends killed, now possibly an old man who's been a father to him for fifteen years. All his plans shot to h.e.l.l-too much!''I can't change what's happened, I can only grieve for my errors of judgment and no one will grieve more, but I ask you to think of your country, my country now. If we've helped to produce a political force, it was only because the force existed in his own right, with his own instincts. Without him, any number of perfectly decent men will be acceptable to the party leadership because they're familiar and comfortable, but they will not be a force... Do I make myself clear?''According to history, a Vice President once said that the office wasn't worth a "bucket of warm spit".''Not these days, and certainly not in the hands of Evan Kendrick. You were obviously in Cairo when he appeared on television here-''I was in Cairo,' interrupted Khalehla, 'but we have an American channel-tapes, of course. I saw him and I've seen him here subsequently and repeatedly, thanks no doubt to your... agenda. He was very good, very intelligent and appealing.''Miss Rashad, he's unique. He's unbuyable and he speaks his mind and the country is taken with him.''Because of you.''No, because of him. He's done the things he's done, they weren't invented; he's said the things he's said, the words weren't provided. What can I tell you? I a.n.a.lysed over four hundred possibilities, using the most advanced computers, and one man stood out. Evan Kendrick.''You want nothing from him?''You say you know him. If we did, what do you think he'd do?''Turn you over to some anti-corruption committee and make d.a.m.n sure you spent time in prison.''Exactly.'Khalehla shook her head, her eyes closed. 'I'd like a gla.s.s of wine, Mr. Milos. I've got a few things to think about.'Varak signalled a waiter and ordered two gla.s.ses of chilled Chablis, leaving the choice to the waiter's discretion. 'Among my many deficiencies,' said the Czech, 'is a lack of knowledge of wines beyond those of my country.''I don't believe that for an instant. You're probably a certified sommelier.''Hardly. I hear friends order specific vineyards and vintages and I marvel at them.''Do you really have friends? I think of you as rather an eminence grise.''Je comprends, but you're wrong. I live quite a normal life. My friends think I'm a translator, freelance, naturally, at home.''Bien,' said the agent from Cairo. 'That's how I began.''There's no office to contact, only an answering machine, which I can reach from wherever I am.''Me, too.'The wine arrived and, after sipping, Khalehla spoke. 'He can't go back,' she said, as if speaking to herself, then partially including Varak. 'At least not for a few years, if then. Once the blackout's lifted there'll be a lot of hot blood running in the Baaka Valley.''I a.s.sume you're talking about the congressman?''Yes. The terrorists were caught, in a manner of speaking... There was a third and final attack several hours ago. It took place in Mesa Verde and was every bit as devastating as Fairfax.''Several hours ...? Was Kendrick there?''Yes.''And?''He's alive, I'm told by seconds. But like Virginia, many of our personnel were killed.''I'm sorry... Weingra.s.s was severely hurt, I gather. That's whom you were referring to when you mentioned an old man, wasn't it?''Yes. They're flying him to a hospital in Denver. Evan's with him.''The terrorists, please,' said Varak, his eyes boring into hers.'All together there were nine of them. Eight are dead; one survived, the youngest.''And when the blackout's lifted, as you say, there will be hot blood in the Baaka. It's why Kendrick can't go back to that part of the world.''He wouldn't live forty-eight hours. There's no way to protect him from the crazies.''There is here and none better than the government's Secret Service. In these matters nothing is perfect, there is only the best.''I know.' Khalehla drank from her gla.s.s of wine.'You understand what I'm saying, don't you, Miss Rashad?''I think so.''Let events run their natural course. There's a legitimate political action committee dedicated to supporting Congressman Kendrick for higher office. Let them work unenc.u.mbered and let the country respond-one way or the other. And if we're both right about the Vanvlanderens and the Grinells and the people they represent, let Evan Kendrick make up his own mind. Because even if we expose them and stop them, there are hundreds more who will take their places... A force is needed, a voice is needed.'Khalehla raised her eyes from the wine. She nodded twice.

Chapter 36.

Kendrick walked along Denver's Seventeenth Street towards the Brown Palace Hotel barely aware of the light snow that was floating down from the night sky. He had told the cabdriver to let him off several blocks away; he wanted to walk; he had to clear his mind.The doctors at the Denver General had patched Manny up, relieving Evan by explaining that the wounds, although messy, consisted mainly of embedded fragments of gla.s.s and metal. The loss of blood was considerable for a man of his age but not critical; it would be replaced. The bewilderment started when Kendrick took one of the doctors aside and told him about Weingra.s.s's concern that the cancer had returned. Within twenty minutes all of Manny's tests had been electronically transmitted from Washington, and the chief oncologist had spoken to the DC surgeon who had operated on the old architect. Then about two hours into his four-hour stay at the hospital, a technician had arrived from some laboratory or other and conferred quietly with another doctor. There had been a mild flurry of activity and Evan was asked to leave the room while various samples were taken from Manny's body. An hour after that the chief of pathology, a thin man with inquisitive eyes, approached Kendrick in the waiting room.'Congressman, has Mr. Weingra.s.s been out of the country recently?''Not within the past year, no.''Where was that?''France... Southwest Asia.'The doctor's eyebrows had arched. 'My geography's not very good. Where is Southwest Asia?''Is this necessary?''Yes, it is.''Oman and Bahrain.''He was with you?... Excuse me, but your exploits are common knowledge.''He was with me,' answered Evan. 'He's one of the people I couldn't thank publicly because it wouldn't be in his interest.''I understand. We have no press office here.''Thank you. Why do you ask?''Unless I'm mistaken, and I could be, he's infected with a-let's say a virus-that to the best of my knowledge is indigenous to central Africa.'"That couldn't be.''Then perhaps I'm wrong. Our equipment is among the finest in the West, but there's better. I'm having lung tissue and blood samples sent to the CDC in Atlanta.'The what?''Centers for Disease Control.''Disease?''It's just a precaution, Mr. Kendrick.''Have them flown there tonight, Doctor. There'll be a jet waiting at Stapleton Airport within the hour. Tell Atlanta to go to work the minute your findings arrive-I'll pay whatever the cost even if they have to stay there around the clock.''I'll do what I can-''If it would help,' said Evan, not sure whether he was bluffing or not, 'I'll have the White House call them.''I don't think that will be necessary,' said the pathologist.As he left the hospital, having said good night to a heavily sedated Manny, he remembered the vanished Dr Lyons of Mesa Verde, the physician without an address or a telephone but with full government clearance to be presented to a congressman and/or his staff. What clearance? Why was clearance necessary?... Or was it simply a very impressive doc.u.ment, a device for slipping into the private world of one Evan Kendrick? He decided to say nothing to anyone. Khalehla would know better what to do.He approached the Brown Palace and was suddenly aware through the falling snow of the coloured lights on the Christmas decorations extending across the wide avenue from the old cla.s.sic structure to the new south Tower. Then he heard the strains of a carol filling the street. Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la... la-la-la-la. Merry Christmas from the legacy of Masqat, he thought.'Where the h.e.l.l have you been?' shouted MJ Payton, causing Khalehla to hold the telephone away from her ear.'Having dinner.''He's there! Our blond European is in the hotel!''I know. I had dinner with him.''You what?''As a matter of fact, he's here in my room now. We're going over what we know. He's not what we thought.''d.a.m.n you, Adrienne! Tell that son of a b.i.t.c.h Mr. B would like to talk to Mr. A!''Good G.o.d, you were the one?''Cap it, Rashad! Put him on the line.'I'm not sure he'll agree.' The agent from Cairo again had to pull the phone away. She turned to Varak. 'A Mr. B would like to talk to Mr. A.''I should have known,' said the Czech, getting out of the chair. He walked to the bedside telephone as Khalehla relinquished it and moved away. 'Greetings again, Mr. B. Nothing has changed, you understand. No names, no ident.i.ties.''What does my niece call you? Mind you, she's my niece.''She calls me by the erroneous name of Milos.''Meelos? Slavic?''American, sir.''I forgot, you made that clear.'The Secretary of State, please?''He's arrived in Cyprus.'I'm relieved.''We all are, if, indeed, there was cause for alarm to begin with.''The information was accurate.''Unfortunately, we haven't been able to confirm it at our end. Grinell wasn't at the hotel and he hasn't shown up at his residence.''He's with the Vanvlanderen woman.''Yes, we know. According to a desk clerk, there were several others with them both. Any ideas?''Grinell's guards, according to the information I received. I mentioned to you that there were men with him, that you should be prepared.''Yes, you did... Do we work together?''From a distance.''What have you got to offer?''Proof of certain things I've told Miss Rashad,' replied Varak, thinking of the edited tapes and transcripts he would give to the intelligence officer-edited so that Eric Sundstrom would remain an anonymous conspirator; a dead man did not need an ident.i.ty. 'Perhaps nothing more, but it's the core of what you need.''It will be gratefully accepted.''However, there's a price, Mr. B.''I don't make payments-''Of course you do,' broke in the Czech. 'You do so all the time.''What is it?''As long as my demands require a complicated explanation, I'll let Miss Rashad tell you in her own words. I'll reach her tomorrow and we'll communicate through her. If your answer is positive I will arrange for the delivery of my material to you.''And if it's not?''Then I'd advise you to weigh the consequences, Mr. B.''Let me speak to my niece, if you please?''As you wish.' Varak turned to Khalehla and handed her the telephone as he headed back to his chair.'I'm here,' said Rashad.'Just answer yes or no, and if you can't answer, stay silent for a second or two. All right?''Yes.''Are you safe?''Yes.''Would his material help us?''Yes-emphatically.''Just "yes" is sufficient, Agent Rashad... He's obviously staying at the hotel-do you think he'll remain there?''No.''Has he given you any information as to how he got the Oman file?''No.''Lastly, can we live with his demands?''We're going to-sorry to break the rules.''I see,' said the astonished director of Special Projects. 'You will explain that extraordinary and extraordinarily insubordinate statement to me, won't you?''We'll talk later." Khalehla hung up the phone and turned to Varak. 'My superior's upset.''With you or with me? It wasn't difficult to imagine the gist of his questions.''With both of us.''Is he really your uncle?''I've known him for over twenty years and that's enough about him. Let's talk about you for a moment. It wasn't difficult to imagine a couple of his questions to you, either.''Only a moment, please,' insisted the Czech. 'I really must leave.''You told him that Grinell was with the Vanvlanderen woman and that the others were Grinell's guards.''I did.''Yet you told me that there were two men in the Vanvlanderen suite and that the guards were outside.'That's true.''Who was that other man, and why are you protecting him?''Protecting? ... I believe I also told you that they were both traitors. You'll hear that on the tapes, read it on the transcripts I'll deliver to you if your superior agrees to my conditions, as you have agreed.''I'll convince him.''Then you'll hear for yourself.''But you know him! Who is he?'Varak got out of the chair, his hands pressed in front of him. 'Again, we are off limits, Miss Rashad. But I'll tell you this much. He's the reason I must leave. He's human filth, whatever words you care to use... and he's mine. I'll scour this city all night until I find him, and if I don't, I know where I can find him, tomorrow or the next day. I repeat, he's mine.''A jaremat thaar, Mr. Milos?"'I do not speak Arabic, Miss Rashad.''But you know what it means, I've told you.''Good night,' said the Czech, going to the door.'My uncle wants to know how you got the Oman file. I don't think he'll stop hunting you down until he finds out.''We all have our priorities,' said Varak, turning, his hand on the k.n.o.b. 'Right now his and yours are in San Diego and mine are elsewhere. Tell him that he has nothing to fear from my source. He would go to his grave before endangering one of your people, one of our people.''G.o.dd.a.m.n you, he already has! Evan Kendrick!' The telephone rang; they both whipped their heads around, staring at it. Khalehla picked it up. 'Yes?''It happened!' cried Payton in Langley, Virginia. 'Oh, my G.o.d, they did it!''What is it?''The Larnaca Hotel in Cyprus! The west wing was blown up; there's nothing left, just debris. The Secretary of State's dead, they're all dead!''The hotel in Cyprus,' repeated Khalehla, looking at the Czech, her voice a frightened monotone. 'It was blown up, the Secretary's dead, they're all dead...''Give me that phone!' roared Varak, rushing across the room and grabbing it. 'Did no one check the cellars, the air conditioning ducts, the structural underpinnings?''The Cypriot security forces claimed they checked everything-''Cypriot security?' yelled the furious Czech. 'It's riddled with a dozen hostile elements! Fools, fools, fools!''Do you want my job, Mr. A?''I wouldn't take it,' said Varak, controlling his anger, lowering his voice. 'I do not work with amateurs,' he added contemptuously, hanging up and going to the door. He turned and spoke to Khalehla. 'What was needed here today were the brains of Kendrick of Oman. He would have been the first to tell all of you what to do, what to look for. And you probably would not have listened to him.' The Czech opened the door, let himself out, and slammed it shut.The telephone rang. 'He's gone,' said Rashad, picking it up, knowing instinctively who was on the line.'I offered him my job, but he made it clear that he didn't work with amateurs... Strange, isn't it? A man without any credentials that we know about alerts us, and we blow it. And a year ago, we send Kendrick to Oman and he does what five hundred professionals from at least six countries couldn't do. It makes you wonder, doesn't it... I'm getting old.''No way, MJ!' cried the agent from Cairo. 'They happen to be bright guys and they hit jackpots, that's all. You've done more than they'll ever do!''I'd like to believe that, but tonight's pretty horrible for whatever ego I've got left.''Which should be a bunch!... But it's also a good moment for me to explain that insubordinate remark I made to you a few minutes ago.''Please do. I'm receptive. I'm not even sure I have a h.e.l.l of a lot of breath left.''Whomever Milos works for, they want nothing from Evan. When I pressed him, he pointed out the obvious. If they made any demands on him, he'd throw them to the wolves, and he's right, Evan would.''I also agree. So what does he want?''To back off and let events take their course. They want us to let the race go on.''Evan won't run-''He may when he learns about the black knights who are running things in California. Say we stop them; there are hundreds more waiting to take their places. Milos is right, a voice is needed.''But what do you say, niece?''I want him alive, not dead. He can't go back to the Emirates-he may persuade himself that he can but he'd be killed the moment he got off the plane. And he can't vegetate in Mesa Verde, not with his energy and imagination-that's a form of death, too, you know... The country could do worse, MJ.''Fools, fools!' whispered Varak to himself as he dialled while studying a diagram of the Vanvlanderen suite in his hand; there were small red Xs marked in each room. Seconds later a voice was on the other end of the line.'Yes?''Sound Man?''Prague?''I need you."'I can always use your money. You roll high.''Pick me up in thirty minutes, the service entrance. I'll explain what I want you to do on the way to your studio... There are no changes in the diagram?''No. You found the key?''Thank you for both.''You paid. Thirty minutes.'The Czech hung up the phone and looked at the packed recording equipment in front of the door. He had listened to Rashad's interview with Ardis Vanvlanderen, and despite his anger over the tragedy of the Secretary of State's death, he had smiled-grimly to be sure-at the bold strategy employed by the field agent from Cairo and her superior. Based on what they had learned, they had gambled on the presumed truth of Andrew Vanvlanderen's actions and turned it into an irresistible lie: Palestinian hit teams, the target Bollinger, Kendrick never even mentioned! Brilliant! The appearance of Eric Sundstrom within two hours of Rashad's astonishing, convoluted information-an appearance designed to trap a traitor of Inver Bra.s.s and not based on any presumption ofVanvlanderen's guilt-had completed a detonation that blew apart the cemented structure of deceit in San Diego. One took things where one could find them.Varak went to the door, opened it cautiously and slipped out into the corridor. He walked rapidly to the Vanvlanderen suite down the hall and with the key provided by the Sound Man let himself inside, the diagram still in his hand. With swift catlike strides he went from room to room removing the tiny electronic intercepts from their recesses-under tables and chairs, secreted beneath the deep cushions of the sofa, behind mirrors in the four bedrooms, under the medicine cabinets in the various bathrooms and inside two burners in the kitchen. He left the widow's office for last, counting the red Xs, satisfied that he had collected every tap so far. The office was dark; he found the desk lamp and switched it on. Ten seconds later he pocketed the four intercepts, three from the office itself, one from the small attached bathroom, and concentrated on the desk. He looked at hi