The Icarus Agenda

'Thanks very much… Go on, Manny. Do you want one of the nurses to assist you, Doctor?'

'It doesn't really matter—’

'So she can wax lascivious over my naked chest?' protested Weingrass, interrupting. 'Come on, Doc. You tap around my ribs and go out and buy yourself a Cadillac.'

'At least a Ferrari,' countered Lyons, smiling at Kendrick.

Emmanuel Weingrass and his new doctor walked down the stone hallway towards the bedroom.

The Icarus Agenda

Chapter 30

It was ten minutes past one in the morning, and exhaustion hung like circles of dead, heavy mist throughout the house in Mesa Verde. The CIA field agent, his eyes dark with fatigue, walked on to the enclosed porch, where Evan and Khalehla sat on the leather couch diagonally across from Manny in his reclining chair. The three nurses had left, each to her own room, each having been dismissed from duty for the rest of the night; the presence of armed guards patrolling the grounds outside had stretched their nerves. Their patient would survive sleep without being looked in on every half-hour. Dr Lyons had guaranteed it.

'Washington's anxious,' announced the weary intelligence officer. 'The schedule's been moved up, so I'm going down to the airport for the van now. The plane should be here in about an hour which means we don't have much time. They want that bird to come in and get out.'

'The tower down there doesn't operate all night except by prearrangement,' said Kendrick. 'Have you thought about that?'

'Hours ago, in time for your flight from the Bahamas. The Air Force flew over a team of controllers from Colorado Springs. The cover's an AF training manoeuvre cleared through your office. Nobody objects and no one questions.'

'How come?'

'Because you're you, sir.'

'Is there anything we can do here?' asked Khalehla quickly, before Evan could make a comment.

'Yes, there is,' answered the field agent. 'If you wouldn't mind, I'd rather not have anyone up when I get back. We've got this thing worked out by the numbers, and I mean fractions, so the fewer distractions the better.'

'How are you going to handle those cowboys from the park outside?' said Weingrass, grimacing but obviously not from the question he asked. 'I put my head out the door a couple of times before these two got here and they rushed up to me like I was a runaway bear.'

'They've been told a foreign VIP is arriving to see the Congressman—in fact, that's the reason they're here. And since the meeting is highly confidential… and in deference to the visitor who wants to keep it that way, all patrols will remain out of sight. They'll be on the sides of the house and down at the gazebo.'

'They bought that nonsense?' interjected Weingrass.

'They have no reason to question it.'

'Because he's him,' agreed Manny, nodding.

'And because they're being paid three hundred dollars apiece for losing a night's sleep.'

'Very pro, Mr. Containment. You're better than I thought.'

'I have to be… Well, if I don't see you again, it's been a real pleasure meeting you, Congressman. Some day I'll be able to tell my kids about it… No, please don't get up, sir, I've got to run. You, too, Miss Official, as Mr. Weingrass would say… And you, Manny, I tell you, it's been an experience. I think I'm glad you're on our side.'

'You should be, you need all the help you can get… Ciao, young man. Have a good track-down and if the odds are only five to one against you, you'll win.'

'Thanks, Manny, I intend to.' The intelligence officer turned briefly to Evan and Khalehla on the couch. 'I mean that,' he added quietly. 'I heard the reference to Fairfax in the car and let it pass, but it wasn't easy. You see, I'm the only one here who knows what happened; it's why I insisted on leading this team. My older sister's son, my nephew—I brought him into the Agency—he was part of that unit. I intend to have a damned good track-down.' The CIA man left quickly.

For starters, sir, terrorists make it a point to kill innocent people. Ordinary men and women who just happened to be there, kids with backpacks, and employees—young and old alike—simply doing their jobs. Where's your case, sir?

'How terrible for him,' said Khalehla. 'He must feel such hurt, such guilt.'

'Which of us doesn't?' asked Kendrick, his voice floating, then stopped abruptly with a sudden, forced intake of air.

'You can't blame yourself for what's happened,' insisted Khalehla.

'Happening,' exclaimed Kendrick. 'It's happening! How the hell did these people get into the country? Who let them in? Where are our so-called brilliant security measures that can catch fifth-rate Soviet agents we exchange for set-up reporters in Moscow because it's good PR, but can't stop a dozen killers who come in to kill? Who makes it possible?'

'We're trying to find out.'

'You're a little late, aren't you?'

'Stop it!' ordered Weingrass, leaning forward, punching the space in front of him with his forefinger. 'This girl has nothing to do with what you're talking about and I won't have it!'

'I know that!' said Kendrick, reaching for Khalehla's hand, 'and she knows I know it. It's just that everything's so insane—I feel so helpless, so frightened. Goddamn it, how many others have to be killed? We can't stop these people! They're maniacs and they're running loose and we'll never find them!' Evan lowered his voice, his eyes, filled with pain, levelled at the field agent from Cairo. 'Any more than we've found the bastards who stole that “theft-proof” Oman file and splattered me all over the world. How long has it been—eight, ten weeks? We're no closer than when we began. At least now we know why they did it. It wasn't to make me a hero, or to promote my so-called career as a political contender for Christ knows what… it was to set me up for the kill! A “vengeance death” I believe is the literal Arabic translation. The point is we're not getting anywhere!'

'Listen to me,' said Khalehla softly. 'I'm going to say something I probably shouldn't, but sometimes we break a rule because hope is important, too… Other things have happened that you don't know about—are happening, as you say—and each new piece of information brings us a step closer to the truth about this whole horrible mess.'

'That's pretty cryptic, young lady.'

'Manny, try to understand. Evan does because we have an agreement. He knows that there are times when I can't explain things.'

'May an old man who's been a resident in your territory once or twice before ask why?'

'If you mean your work with the Mossad, you shouldn't have to—forgive my being blunt… The basis is an imperative need-to-know, because what you don't know you can't reveal.'

'The Amytals and the Pentothals?' asked Weingrass. 'In the old days, scopolamine? Come on, my lovely girl, we're not in the back streets of Marrakesh or the partisan mountains of Ashot Yaaqov. Who would use chemicals on us here?'

'I'm sure that young prisoner Evan identified, the one who's on his way to a clinic in Virginia, probably felt the same way. Within twenty-four hours his entire life will be on tape.'

'Not applicable,' insisted Weingrass.

'Perhaps not, but something else is. Six hours ago we got a trace—a possible trace—that may take us higher up in this government than any of us wishes. If we're wrong, Congressman Kendrick of Colorado can't be a part of it; quite simply, he can't know anything. He has total deniability. As a result, neither can you, Manny.'

That radio transmission on the plane,' said Evan, looking hard at Khalehla. 'There was no station chief in Cairo, was there?' Khalehla shrugged, releasing his hand and reaching for her drink on the coffee table in front of the couch. 'All right, no specifics,' continued Kendrick, 'but let's talk about the truth—forget deniability, which I don't give a damn about. What kind of truth are you after? Give me an overview—I've heard that word ad nauseam in Washington. What kind of people are doing what to whom? Whoever they are, they've killed my friends—our friends. I have a right to know.'