“Jesse, we have multiple dead agents who were parts of your operations. The agents here might not talk to you openly, but people are scared. For a reason, Jesse. Something organized is going on.”
“Jesus,” whispered Darst. He leaned back in his chair, his expression incredulous. “I let you have your little paid vacation, Sara, because you started talking like this before. I thought with some time off you’d clear your head. Instead, you’ve double-down with this conspiracy theory! The kicker is that you then involve outsiders!”
“He’s involved because his brother was killed only days after I took that leave! Before I could warn him! You remember Miguel, don’t you Jesse?”
Darst leaned forward and pointed a finger at Houston. Father Lopez tensed instinctively, sensing a hostility in the CIA man. Houston looked vulnerable in this place.
“Don’t you patronize me, Sara!” Her boss relaxed momentarily and ran his palm across his sparse hair. “You don’t think I’ve gotten enough heat with the deaths of so many agents? A conspiracy to hunt down and kill CIA agents has a nice, satisfactory Jason Bourne feel to it. It gives meaning and makes sense out of what are, from all the facts, unrelated, coincidental deaths.”
“Coincidental?” Houston laughed bitterly. “Two brutally murdered. Others dead in mysterious accidents. What are the odds on that?”
“That’s what coincidences are, Sara, low-odds events together without a pattern.”
“That they all worked here under you?”
“That’s the low odds, that’s not a pattern.”
“That they all were involved in covert missions together, hidden from the rest of us, going on for years? That this topic is so hot-button that information on these missions is denied to most CIA employees?”
“It was you that brought in Simon?” He looked outraged.
Lopez was stunned. How did he know about Simon?
Houston did not pause for breath. “And that his going to records led to his pursuit by unidentified persons as soon as he left CIA headquarters?”
Lopez watched the eyes of her boss seem to frost over. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Houston held his gaze. “Simon was nearly run down on the highway after being stonewalled on these missions. He came to see me. He’s scared, Jesse. Something really bad is going down around here.”
Darst stood up, his hands resting stiffly on his desk. “Sara, you have really gone too far on this. Let’s get everything very clear. There were no secret missions. This is no conspiracy to murder CIA agents. And I am sure that no one chased down an ex-division director on the highways of Virginia. There is nothing here!”
“Jesse, don’t play dumb with me. You think they’re all buried, but it doesn’t take a genius to comb through records and notice patterns.”
“You’ve taken to covertly investigating your own division?”
“Damn it, Jesse, it’s not covert! I’m here telling you! And there is a damn good reason I’m checking things — agents are dying! Agents I care about! And if you don’t want more heat, then you’d better stop covering this up and get to the bottom of it. Because from what I’ve seen, this is not close to over!”
“That’s enough, Sara. I’m warning you.”
“I want the records, Jesse.” Lopez held his breath. She was playing this full to the end.
“What records?” His expression was cold.
“The records of those missions. Agents Lopez, Fuller, Conover, and Miller — more than twenty times were traveling off-site—simultaneously. Always these same agents. Always together. The same agents who are being killed. God. . only Miller is still alive.”
Lopez cut in without intending to. “If he’s still alive.”
Houston nodded. “I want the records of the missions they were running, Jesse. I want you to open this up to me, let me be part of an investigation into this mess. I’m good, Jesse. You know that. I care deeply about these men. Give me the records and let me work with you.”
Darst appeared to hesitate for a moment, a flash of indecision blinking across his features. But it was gone so fast, Lopez wondered if he had imagined it.
“You have lost perspective, Sara. And that is a danger to everyone here.” His expression turned very hard. “I’m recommending indefinite leave for you pending the results of a battery of psychiatric tests that will begin tomorrow, or as soon as I can have this arranged.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Darst slammed his fist down on the table, startling them both. “I’ve had enough of this! You will be evaluated, and then we will reconsider your role within the agency.”
Her face was frozen in disbelief. “I’ll be God-damned. You’re going to terminate my position.”
“Based on what I’ve heard today, I would not be surprised if that is the conclusion of the Agency on this. But we’ll do this by the book. When you arrive in the morning, you will surrender your ID, firearms, and any other Agency property. You’ll surrender yourself to agents from Division Six. I can’t get this through today, or I’d have you there now.”
Darst looked at Lopez for the first time, acknowledging his existence. His words were full of scorn.
“Now, get this civilian out of my office. I never want to see him here again.”
Houston was shell-shocked on the way to the car. She hardly seemed to notice the wind blowing blonde strands across her face like a net. “I knew this would go badly, but, Francisco, I promise you, I never suspected it would go this badly.” She reached over instinctively and grabbed his arm, staring straight ahead. “I think for the first time I’m really scared about what’s going on.” She reached into her purse, pulled out the little scrambling device she had used in the diner in Tennessee, and switched it on. “They could fire me for using this here, but, well, that’d be redundant now, wouldn’t it?”
“So we can talk freely?” She nodded as they walked. Lopez continued. “What do we do now? We’re completely locked out.”
She shook her head. “I need to think right now, Francisco. Hell will freeze over before I abandon this investigation, abandon Miguel and the others because that prick gets my ass booted out of the Agency. That jerk should have taken my ID and revoked my clearance right then and there.”
Lopez felt her hand tighten on his arm. “Why didn’t he?” he asked.
“He’s a chicken-shit bureaucrat at heart, that’s why. He’ll do this stepwise according to the manual, so that I’ll have no recourse. The psych-eval will be just what he needs, I’m sure. He’ll make it so I see the right people. That’s all you need in this business. The last thing anyone wants is a mentally unstable agent with access to the nation’s secrets.”
“But what does it matter if he confiscates your stuff and revokes your status today or tomorrow? Either way, we’re still out. I don’t know how we’ll get to the bottom of this when we’re shut out by the CIA. We need those records!”
They reached the car, and Houston nodded. “We’ll get them. But I need some time to think.” Lopez was startled as she jingled her keys in his face. “You drive, Francisco.”
“Me? Why?” Would he ever keep up with her?
She held her arm out toward him, the keys dangling in front of his nose. “I need to get inside my head, plan things fast. I can’t do that while driving. We’ll hit a tree, or worse.”