There had been some initial confusion in Beijing as to what had happened to Lena Deiss, but the Ministry of State quickly tracked her to Taiwan, where she was now outside its reach. Pope briefly considered sending an agent to intercept her there, but something told him to let the sleeping dog lie for now. If Gil’s body was found, and the Chinese decided to make a public stink about it, there would be time enough for looking into Lena Deiss.
Pope’s most immediate responsibility was to Gil’s widow.
He got up from the chair and went to find Midori in her office, where she sat collating intelligence files on their developing Saudi operations.
“Gil’s dead,” he said quietly. “I’m going to Montana to tell his wife. I’ll be back in twelve hours.”
Midori stared at him.
“He crashed off a bridge in Hunan Province,” he went on. “They’re still searching the river for his body.”
“My God,” she croaked. “What happened? I mean… how?”
He shrugged. “It looks like he set some Russians on fire in a hotel. I don’t know what he was thinking. Anyhow, the police caught up to him before he could get away this time.”
“Fire? What about Lena Deiss?”
“She made it to Taiwan.”
“Are we going after her?” Midori paid close attention to the drift of his gaze as he pondered his response.
After a few moments, Pope answered, “No. We’ve got enough to focus on.”
“What about Blickensderfer? If Gil’s dead, are we going to resume the operation?”
“Keep him under surveillance for now. I’ll decide about him later.” He returned to his office and called the airfield, ordering his Gulfstream G650 jet prepped for immediate takeoff.
48
Marie Shannon was in the stable with her horses when she heard the rotors of the incoming helicopter echoing off the frozen foothills surrounding the ranch. The winter air was cold and crisp, so there was a sharpness to the sound that caused the hair to rise on the back of her neck. Her 120-pound Chesapeake Bay retriever, Oso Cazador (Bear Hunter), came trotting into the stable to stand protectively at her side, growling low in his throat. Helicopters had come to the ranch before, and they had always been harbingers of trouble.
Marie went to the door, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched across the ranch. A US Air Force Black Hawk helicopter was coming in low out of the east, a giant sky-blue dragonfly sweeping up contrails of snow along its approach. It set down a hundred yards from the stable, and as its door slid open, Marie prayed against heaven and earth for Gil to appear.
When a tall man with white hair stepped out of the aircraft, her eyes flooded with tears, and she sank into a crouch, hugging the dog tightly to her. “Daddy’s dead,” she whispered hoarsely.
Marie forced herself back to her feet, wiping away the tears as she stood in her maroon Carhartt and watched the man trudging toward her through the knee-deep snow, holding up the wide collars of his overcoat against the blowing cold.
By the time he arrived at the stable, he looked chilled to the bone. “Mrs. Shannon, how do you do? I’m—”
“Bob Pope,” she said, her brown eyes penetrating. “There’s no one else you could be.”
He nodded sadly. “Yes. Yes, I am. I apologize for arriving unannounced like this. I’m afraid I bring bad news that I couldn’t imagine sharing with you over the telephone.”
She steeled herself. “Where was he killed — or can’t you tell me?”
“China,” he said quietly. “I don’t have all of the details, but I’m willing to share what little I know.”
She swallowed the egg-size lump that had formed in her throat. “What was he doing in China?”
“The truth is, I’m not sure. I didn’t send him.” Pope had not yet worked out whether to mention Lena Deiss. “He said something about BASE jumping from a popular mountain in Hunan Province.”
She crossed her arms, her eyes remaining steady. “Mr. Pope, please don’t expect me to believe that my husband was killed in a BASE jump.”
“No,” he said. “That’s not what happened. I’m not sure he ever made it to the mountain, to be honest.”
Marie had lived on the ranch all her life, and she was accustomed to the harsh Montana winters, but she felt suddenly cold. “We’ll go inside,” she said softly. “I can see you’re freezing.”
“Yes,” he said with a kind smile, his boyish blue eyes grateful. “I am.”
Pope followed behind her and the dog as they crossed the ranch to the new house, rebuilt the year before, after Muslim terrorists had burned it to the ground.
Inside, the house was quite warm. A fire blazed in the fireplace, and the smell of an apple pie baking in the oven pervaded. Marie’s mother, her long gray hair in a thick horsewoman’s braid like her daughter’s, stood in the kitchen doorway wiping her hands on a towel. She met Marie’s forlorn gaze and realized that her son-in-law was dead. Lowering her eyes, she turned back into the kitchen.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Marie said, taking off her coat.
Oso trotted into the kitchen to see what kind of food he could score from Grandma, who spoiled him rotten.
“Thank you,” he said, taking a chair near the fire.
“Does your flight crew need some coffee brought out?”
What a fine woman this is, Pope thought to himself. What was Gil thinking, running off with the likes of Lena Deiss? “No,” he said. “They’re fine. The helo is warm enough, and I believe they brought a thermos, actually.”
“Okay.” She settled into the rocking chair opposite the CIA director. “I’d like to know what happened, please. Every detail.”
Again, Pope felt the stab of Lena Deiss. “I’m afraid I’m very short on details. I don’t know how much Gil might have told you, but during his last mission for me, he took it upon himself to rescue a dozen or so young Russian women who’d been sold into prostitution. He killed quite a few members of the Russian mob in the process, and they put a price on his head. Judging from the intelligence I’ve gathered so far, it appears he ran afoul of three Russians during his trip to China and ended up killing them. There was a police chase, and Gil’s truck crashed off a very high bridge into a deep river. I’ve been keeping tabs on the situation, and it appears his body was found just a few hours ago.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Will they send him home?”
“I can almost guarantee they will not,” he said. “I don’t expect China to admit that Gil was in the country. He was traveling on a Canadian passport under another name, and for this reason, they have assumed, incorrectly, that he was there to carry out a mission for the CIA. For the Chinese to admit the CIA is carrying out operations so deep inside of their country would be embarrassing to Beijing. It could also complicate the trade negotiations now taking place between China and the US. As you probably know, China is accustomed to getting the better end of most trade deals, and they’re not likely to risk the status quo over an incident such as this. Had Gil been captured alive, things would be very different, but that’s not the case.”
“Luckily for the CIA,” Marie said, not kindly.
“For the CIA, yes,” Pope admitted. “For me personally, much less so. Gil was my friend, as was his father, and I hold myself partially responsible for what’s happened. I’ve kept him extremely busy these past couple of years. I pushed him too hard, and I think he lost himself — lost track of what was most important to him. My apology doesn’t even begin to make up for that.”
Marie ignored the apology. It was useless to her. “So that’s it. No funeral at Arlington. No recognition. Nothing. He’s just gone.”