The Icarus Agenda

'Zurich…?' said Ardis, as if the name of the city had slipped out unintentionally.

'It's in Switzerland,’ broke in Sundstrom harshly. 'And let's cut the crap.'

'Eric, really—'

'Don't “Eric, really” me, Cray. That bullheaded horse's ass did it. He contracted the Palestinians and paid them out of Zurich… Remember Zurich, sweetie'? … I told you in Baltimore, Cray. He did it!'

'I couldn't get a confirmation on the assaults in Fairfax or Colorado,' said Grinell calmly.

'Because they never happened!' yelled the widow, her right hand trembling as she poured a drink from the heavy crystal decanter.

'I didn't say that, Ardis,' objected the lawyer softly. 'I merely said I couldn't get a confirmation. However, I did get a later call, no doubt placed by a well-paid drunk who was handed a phone after the number was dialled, thus eliminating the identity of the source. The words he obviously repeated are all too familiar. “They're following the money,” he said.'

'Oh, Jesus!' exclaimed Mrs. Vanvlanderen.

'So now we have two crises,' continued Grinell, walking to a white marble telephone on a red-lined marble table against the wall. 'Our weak, ubiquitous Secretary of State is on his way to Cyprus to sign an agreement that could cripple the defence industry, and one of our own is linked to Palestinian terrorists… In a way, I wish to heaven I knew how Andrew did it. We may be far clumsier.' He dialled as the widow and the scientist watched. 'The switch from Design Six to Design Twelve, Mediterranean, is confirmed,' said the attorney into the phone. 'And prepare the medical unit, if you will, please.'

The Icarus Agenda

Chapter 35

Varak raced around the corner to the service entrance and took the freight elevator up to his floor. He then walked rapidly to his rooms, unlocked the door and rushed to the sophisticated vertical recording equipment against the wall, somewhat startled to see that so much tape had been used. He ascribed it to various telephone calls received by Ardis Vanvlanderen. He flipped the switch that allowed dual transmission, tape and direct audio, put on the earphones and sat down to listen.

She left about an hour and a half ago.

She? Who?

A woman named Rashad, a counter terrorist expert. She's with a cross-over unit…

The Czech glanced at the spool of exposed tape. There were at least twenty-five minutes of recorded conversation on it! What was the former operations officer from Egypt doing in San Diego? It made no sense to Milos. She had resigned from the Agency; he had confirmed it. The quiet but official word out of Cairo and Washington was that she had been 'open to compromise'. He had assumed it was the Oman operation and entirely accepted her vanishing. She had to fade—but she had not! He listened further to the conversation taking place in the Vanvlanderen suite. Sundstrom was speaking.

He did it, didn't he, Ardis? That financial megalomaniac couldn't stand the possibility that a small group of benevolent misfits might replace his man with another who could cut off his pipeline to millions and probably would.

Then Ardis Vanvlanderen.

Eight hundred million, that's what he said. Eight hundred million for him alone, billions for all the rest of you… I didn't know a thing!

Varak was stunned. He had made two enormous errors! The first concerned the covert activities of Adrienne Khalehla Rashad, and difficult as it was for him to accept this error, he could do so, for she was an experienced intelligence officer. The second he could not accept! The false scenario he had presented to Inver Brass had been true! It had never occurred to him that Andrew Vanvlanderen would act independently of his wife. How could he? Theirs was a La Rochefoucauld marriage, one of convenience, of mutual benefit, certainly not of affection, to say nothing of love. Andy-boy had broken the rules. A bull in financial heat had crashed open the gates of his corral and raced into the slaughterhouse. Varak listened.

Another voice, another name. A man named Crayton Grinell. The tape rolled as the Czech concentrated on the words being spoken. Finally:

So now we have two crises. Our weak, ubiquitous Secretary of State is on his way to Cyprus to sign an agreement that could cripple the defence industry… The switch from Design Six to Design Twelve, Mediterranean, is confirmed.

Varak tore off the earphones. Whatever remained to be heard in the Vanvlanderen suite would be recorded. He had to move quickly. He got out of the chair and rushed across the room to the telephone. He picked it up and pressed the numbers for Cynwid Hollow, Maryland.

'Yes?'

'Sir, it's Varak.'

'What is it, Milos? What have you learned?'

'It's Sundstrom—’

'What?'

'That can wait, Dr Winters, something else cannot. The Secretary of State is flying to Cyprus. Can you find out when?'

'I don't have to find out, I know. So does everyone else who watches television or listens to the radio. It's quite a breakthrough—’

'When, sir?'

'He left London about an hour ago. There was the usual statement about bringing the world closer to peace and that sort of thing—’

'In the Mediterranean,’ interrupted Varak, controlling his voice. 'It will happen in the Mediterranean.'

'What will?'

'I don't know. A strategy called Design Twelve, that's all I heard. It will happen on the ground or in the air. They want to stop him.'

'Who does?'

'The contributors. A man named Grinell, Crayton Grinell. If I tried to break in and find out, they might take me. There are men outside the door and I cannot jeopardize the group. I certainly would never willingly disclose information, but there are drugs—’

'Yes, I know.'

'Reach Frank Swann at the State Department. Tell the switchboard to raise him wherever he is and use the phrase “crisis containment”.'

'Why Swann?'

'He's a specialist, sir. He ran the Oman operation for State.'

'Yes, I know that, but I might have to tell him more than I care to… There may be a better way, Milos. Stay on the line, I'm going to put you on hold.' Each ten seconds that went by seemed like minutes to Varak, then they were minutes! What was Winters doing? They did not have minutes to waste. Finally the spokesman for Inver Brass was back on the phone. 'I'm going to switch us to a conference call, Milos. Another will be joining us, but it's understood that neither of you is required to identify yourself. I trust this man completely and he accepts the condition. He's also in what you term “crisis containment” and has far greater resources than Swann.' There were two clicks over the line and Winters continued. 'Go ahead, gentlemen. Mr. A, this is Mr. B.'

'I understand you have something to tell me, Mr. A.'

'Yes, I do,' replied Varak. 'The circumstances are not relevant but the information is verified. The Secretary of State is in imminent danger. There are people who do not want him to attend the conference in Cyprus and they intend to stop him. They're employing a plan or a tactic called “Design Twelve, Mediterranean”. The individual who gave the order is named Grinell, a Crayton Grinell of San Diego. I know nothing about him.'

'I see… Let me phrase this as delicately as I can, Mr. A. Are you in a position to tell us the current whereabouts of this Grinell?'

'I have no choice, Mr. B. The Westlake Hotel. Suite 3C. I have no idea how long he'll be there. Hurry, and send firepower. He's guarded.'

'Will you do me the courtesy, Mr. A, of remaining on the line for a moment or two?'

'So you can trace this leg of the call?'

'I wouldn't do that. I've given my word.'

'He'll keep it,' interrupted Samuel Winters.

'It's difficult for me,' said the Czech.

‘I’ll be quick.'

A single click was heard and Winters spoke. 'You really didn't have a choice, Milos. The Secretary is the sanest man in the administration.'

'I'm aware of that, sir.'