“The special forces of Army and Marines patrolling Capitol Hill are highly trained professionals. They can be counted on to stand firm and not attempt anything stupid. The National Guard is the real danger. All it takes is one weekend warrior to panic and fire off a round. Then we’ll witness another Kent State bloodbath, except much worse. This time the Guard will have their fire returned by deadly marksmen.”
“The situation won’t be helped if a few congressmen fall in the crossfire,” added Mercier.
“The President has to be isolated. The timetable must be moved up,” said Oates.
Mercier looked unsold. “That means cutting back Dr. Edgely’s evaluation of the President’s brain signals.”
“Preventing wholesale slaughter must take priority over a plan to mislead the Russians,” said Oates.
Brogan gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I think we might steal our chicken and pluck it too.”
Oates smiled. “I hear the gears meshing in your head, Martin. What wild Machiavellian scheme has the CIA got up its sleeve now?”
“A way to give Edgely an advantage,” answered Brogan with a foxlike grin. “A little something borrowed from The Twilight Zone.”
61
A limousine was waiting at Andrews Air Force Base when Pitt slowly eased his way down the boarding stairs from a Navy passenger jet. Admiral Sandecker was sitting in the car, hidden by the tinted windows.
He opened the door and helped Pitt inside. “How was the flight?”
“Mercifully, it was smooth.”
“Do you have any luggage?”
“I’m wearing it,” said Pitt. He winced and clenched his teeth as he slipped into the seat beside the admiral.
“You in much pain?”
“A little stiff. They don’t tape cracked ribs like they did in the old days. Just let them heal on their own.”
“Sorry I insisted on your return in such haste, but things in Washington are boiling up a storm, and Doug Oates is hoping you possess information that might clear up a few entanglements.”
“I understand,” Pitt said. “Has there been any news of Loren?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid.”
“She’s alive,” said Pitt, staring out the window.
“I don’t doubt it,” Sandecker concurred. “Probably an oversight her name isn’t on the survivor list. Maybe she requested anonymity to avoid the press.”
“Loren had no reason to hide.”
“She’ll turn up,” Sandecker said. “Now, suppose you tell me how you managed to be present at the worst maritime tragedy in fifty years.”
Pitt marveled at how the admiral could twist a conversation in another direction with the abruptness of leaping from a sauna into the snow.
“In the brief time we had together on the Leonid Andreyev,”Pitt began, “Loren told me she was strolling on the deck on the first night of the cruise when the lights around the exterior of the ship went out, followed by the landing of a helicopter. Three passengers were taken off, two of them roughly handled. Loren thought she recognized one of them in the dim light as Alan Moran. Not certain whether her eyes were playing tricks, she called her aide Sally Lindemann over ship-to-shore phone and asked her to locate Moran’s whereabouts. Sally turned up false trails covered over by vague reports and no Moran. She also discovered he and Marcus Larimer were supposed to be together. She then related the negative results to Loren, who told her to contact me. But the call was cut off. The Russians had monitored her calls and learned she’d accidentally stumbled into the middle of a delicate operation.”
“So they made her a prisoner along with her congressional pals, who were on a one-way trip to Moscow.”
“Except that Loren was more risk than asset. She was to be conveniently lost overboard.”
“And after Lindemann contacted you?” Sandecker probed.
“Al Giordino and I drew up a plan and flew south, catching up with the ship in San Salvador and boarding there.”
“Over two hundred people died on the Leonid Andreyev.You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Yes,” Pitt said meditatively. “It was a near thing.”
He went quiet, his mind’s eye seeing only a face the face of the steward who stood in the lifeboat leering down at him with the look of a man who enjoyed his work: a murderer without a shred of remorse.
“In case you’re interested,” said Sandecker, breaking the spell, “we’re going direct to a meeting with Secretary Oates at the State Department.”
“Make a detour by the Washington Post,” Pitt said abruptly.
Sandecker gave him a negative look. “We can’t spare the time to buy a newspaper.”
“If Oates wants to hear what I’ve got, he’ll damn well have to wait.”
Sandecker made a sour expression and gave in. “Ten minutes is all you get. I’ll call Oates and say your plane was delayed.”
Pitt had met the Secretary of State previously, during the North American Treaty affair. The neatly trimmed hair was slate-colored, and the brown eyes moved with practiced ease as they read Pitt. Oates wore a five-hundred-dollar gray tailored suit and highly polished black custom shoes. There was a no-nonsense aggressiveness about him, and he moved well, almost like a track and field athlete.
“Mr. Pitt, how nice to see you again.”
“Good to see you, Mr. Secretary.”
Oates wrung Pitt’s hand, then turned to the other men in the conference room and went through the introductions. The inner sanctum had turned out. Brogan of the CIA, Emmett of the FBI, National Security’s Alan Mercier, whom Pitt also knew, and Dan Fawcett representing the White House. Admiral Sandecker remained at Pitt’s side, keeping a wary eye on his friend.
“Please sit down,” Oates said, waving them all to a chair.
Sam Emmett turned toward Pitt and regarded him with interest, noting the drawn lines in his face. “I’ve taken the liberty of pulling your packet, Mr. Pitt, and I must confess your service with the government reads like a novel.” He paused to scan the dossier. “Directly responsible for saving innumerable lives during the Vixen operation. Instrumental in obtaining the Canadian merger treaty. Heading the project to raise the Titanic,with subsequent discovery of a rare element for the Sicilian project. You have an uncanny knack for getting around.”
“I believe the word is ‘ubiquitous,’ “ Oates injected.
“You were in the Air Force before joining NUMA,” Emmett continued. “Rank of major. Excellent record in Vietnam.” He hesitated, a strange inquisitive look growing on his face. “I see here you received a commendation for destroying one of our own aircraft.”
“Perhaps I should explain that,” Sandecker said, “since I was on the aircraft Dirk shot down.”
“I realize we’re pressed for time, but I’d be interested to hear that tale,” said Oates.
Sandecker nodded agreeably. “My staff and I were flying on a twin turboprop transport from Saigon to a small coastal port north of Da Nang. Unknown to us, the field we were supposed to land on was overrun by North Vietnamese regulars. Our radio malfunctioned and my pilot was unable to receive the warning. Dirk was flying nearby, returning to his base from a bombing mission. The local commander directed him to intercept and alert us by whatever means available.” Sandecker looked over at Pitt and smiled. “I have to say he tried everything short of a neon sign. He played charades from his cockpit, fired several bursts from his guns across our nose, but nothing penetrated our thick skulls. When we were on our final landing approach, coming in from the sea toward the airstrip, in what has to be a rare exhibition of precision aerial marksmanship, he shot out both our engines, forcing my pilot to ditch our plane in the water only one mile from shore. Dirk then flew cover, strafing enemy boats putting out from the beach, until everyone was taken aboard a Navy patrol vessel. After learning that he saved me from certain imprisonment and possible death, we became good friends. Several years later, when President Ford asked me to launch NUMA, I persuaded Dirk to join me.”