“Where is he right now?”
“They’ve got him tucked away over at Andrews.”
“Has he talked to anyone, maybe an attorney?” McGarvey asked. “Are there any leaks to the media that we’ve got him and why?”
“I don’t think so,” Rencke said.
“I’m flying up there today, but in the meantime I want you to do a couple of things for me,” McGarvey said. “Tell Adkins I’m on my way. I’m going to need some help, but I’ll explain when I get there. Then I want al-Turabi transferred to Gitmo tonight, but with no ID. I want him classified as John Doe, an American combatant working for al-Quaida.”
“Adkins will have to pull some serious strings,” Rencke said.
“Tell him to make it happen, with as few people in the loop as possible, except for Commander Weiss.”
Rencke was silent for just a second, but then he chuckled. “Weiss isn’t going to be a happy camper, especially if you show up down there again with Gloria.”
“If we get lucky I think I know how to find bin Laden,” McGarvey said. “But I also need you to ask Jared Kraus for an assist.” Kraus was chief of the Company’s Technical Services Division. They were the people who came up with the gadgets that field officers used.
“What do you need?” Rencke asked.
McGarvey explained what he wanted from Kraus and how he was going to use it, but there would have to be limitations.
“No sweat, kimo sabe,” Rencke said. “I’ve already seen the technical specs, so we’ll be up and running by the time you get up here.”
“Oh, and send someone down here to keep an eye on Katy, would you?” McGarvey said.
“Will do.”
FORTY-TWO
Cabbing it out to Langley from Dulles, McGarvey felt detached. Already he was beginning to leave his home and his family, putting his love for his wife and daughter and granddaughter in a special compartment in his mind; one in which he could forget about them while he was in the field. The bane of any assassin were attachments to places, to things, and especially, to people.
Lawrence Danielle, a mentor during his early days in the CIA, had cautioned that the field officers who lasted the longest were the ones who either carried no baggage, or those who knew when to forget home and hearth. “Completely forget, Kirk, as if there was no one in your life.”
It had been one of the hardest lessons for him to learn; and one that had cost him his marriage when Katy had faced him point-blank with the choice of her or the CIA.
He had been an arrogant bastard in those days, with his own set of demons, and he had just returned from a particularly nasty assignment in Santiago, Chile, in which he had assassinated an army general and the man’s wife. His emotions were all over the place, so he’d turned around and walked out the door.
He’d run to Switzerland then, to hide, and it had been a very long time before he and Kathleen got back together; lost years not only for him and his wife, but for their daughter Elizabeth.
But that was then and here he was now, ready to go back into the field.
Kathleen had stoically packed for him, saying nothing as she watched him gather his weapon, a couple of spare magazines of ammunition, and his escape kit of several passports, matching, untraceable credit cards, and ten thousand dollars in various currencies to be sent ahead as a bonded Homeland Security package.
When he was done, she handed him his tan sport coat. “Any odd idea how long you’ll be gone, in case I want to make dinner reservations or something for us?” she’d asked.
“Maybe ten days, not long this time.”
She wanted to say something that would make him change his mind; he could see it in her eyes. “Should I circle the wagons or something?”
“Someone’s coming down to ride shotgun for you. Otto will let you know.”
She’d come into his arms and shivered as he held her tight. “Take care of yourself, Kirk,” she said in his ear. “Come back to me.”
“Count on it.”
Receiving a visitor’s pass at the gate, McGarvey could remember Katy’s body in his arms as they kissed goodbye at the airport, but when he signed in he’d already forgotten her scent and how badly he’d missed her even before he left.
Adkins had been advised of McGarvey’s arrival and was waiting at the door to his office. “Hold my calls,” he told his secretary.
“Yes, sir,” Dahlia Swanson said. She’d been McGarvey’s private secretary when he’d been the DCI. “How are you feeling, Mr. McGarvey?” she asked.
“Much better, thank you.”
She was an older woman with white hair and old-school reserved manners, but she gave him a warm smile. “I am glad.”
He winked at her, then followed Adkins into the seventh-floor office.
“I managed to push through al-Turabi’s transfer to Guantanamo Bay, in fact he’s probably already on his way,” Adkins said, going behind his desk. He motioned for McGarvey to take a seat. “But Otto didn’t give me any of the details. Would you like to fill me in?”
“Al-Turabi is one of bin Laden’s top executioners. Important to the cause.”
“All right, I understand the reason for sending him down as a John Doe. But then what?”
“That navy commander Gloria Ibenez roughed up could be on the take. Otto is working the money trail back to the source now, but it’s possible that Weiss is on al-Quaida’s payroll.”
Understanding began to glimmer in Adkins’s eyes, and he shook his head. “Please don’t tell me that you’re going back down there.”
“Yes, I am,” McGarvey said. “And I’m taking Gloria with me, so you’ll have to pull a few more strings.”
Adkins sat back in his chair. “I didn’t want your job, you know. So if you’re doing this to get back at me, you can stop it.”
“The minute al-Turabi shows up at Camp Delta someone is going to recognize him, and Weiss will get the word.”
“Continue.”
“Gloria and I are going to lean on him, hard, and my guess is that Weiss will arrange for him to escape.”
“I don’t buy it, Mac,” Adkins said. “Even if Weiss is connected with al-Quaida, which would make him a traitor, why would he risk his neck with you and Gloria right there?”
“We’re only going to stay for a couple hours, just long enough to put some heat on him.”
“And?”
“When al-Turabi gets out of there, I’m going to follow him.”
Adkins said nothing for several long moments, obviously trying to put what he was being told into some kind of perspective. “You think he’ll lead you to bin Laden?”
“I think it’s a possibility, Dick,” McGarvey said.
“Why do you want Ms. Ibenez to go with you?”
“I want her to keep Weiss busy.”
“And pissed off,” Adkins said. “Because pissed-off people make mistakes.”
“Yes, and this one will cost him more than a couple of bruises,” McGarvey said. “But we don’t want to blow the whistle until I find bin Laden.”
“And finish the job,” Adkins said delicately.
“Yes,” McGarvey replied just as delicately. He’d come face-to-face with bin Laden in a cave in the mountains of Afghanistan. It was before 9/11, and he’d not been able to get the man’s image out of his head since then. “There are no innocents in this struggle,” bin Laden had said. He had proved his point in New York.
“He knows you’re coming. That’s why they tried to hit you at Arlington.”