The Icarus Agenda

'Are you sure you should?'

'I need help and they can't help me. Maybe you can; you were there—with me—and you know so many things I don't know. How events are kept quiet, how secret information is passed to those who should have it, procedures like that.'

'I know some, not all by any means. I'm based in Cairo, not here. But go ahead.'

'Some time ago a man came to see Swann, a blond man with a European accent who had a great deal of information about me—Frank called it PD.'

'Prior data,' said Rashad, interrupting. 'It's also called “privileged detail”, and usually comes from the vaults.'

'Vaults? What vaults?'

'It's the vernacular for classified intelligence files. Go on.'

'After impressing Frank, really impressing him, he came right out and made his point. He told Swann that he had concluded that I'd been sent to Masqat by the State Department during the hostage crisis.'

'What?' She exploded, her hand on Kendrick's arm. 'Who was he?'

'Nobody knows. No one can find him. The identity he used to get to Frank was false.'

'Good Christ,' whispered Rashad as she looked up at the ascending path; bright sunlight broke through the wall of trees above. 'We'll stay here for a moment,' she said quietly, urgently. 'Sit down.' They both lowered themselves on to the track surrounded by thick trunks and foliage. 'And?' pressed the woman from Cairo.

'Well, Swann tried to throw him off; he even showed him a note to the Secretary of State that we both mocked up rejecting me. Obviously the man didn't believe Frank and kept digging, deeper and deeper until he got it all. What came out yesterday morning was so accurate it could only have come from the Oman file—from the vaults, as you call them.'

'I know that,' whispered Rashad, her anger indelibly mixed with fear. 'My God, someone was reached!'

'One of the seven—six? he amended quickly.

'Who were they? I don't mean Swann and his OHIO-Four-Zero computer man, but apart from Dennison, Grayson and me?'

'The secretaries of State and Defense, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.'

'None of them could even be approached.'

'What about the computer man? His name is Bryce, Gerald Bryce, and he's young. Frank swore by him but that's only his judgment.'

'I doubt it. Frank Swann's a bastard, but I don't think he could be fooled that way. Someone like Bryce is the first person you'd think of, and if he's smart enough to run that kind of operation, he knows it. He also knows he could face thirty years in Leavenworth.'

Evan smiled. 'I understand Dennison threatened you with five years there.'

'I told him it was a men's prison,' said Adrienne, responding with a grin.

'So did I,' said Kendrick, laughing.

'So then I said if he had any more goodies in store for me, I wouldn't get in Cleopatra's barge, never mind the government car.'

'Why did you get in?'

'Sheer curiosity. It's the only answer I can give you.'

'I accept it… So where are we? The seven are out and a blond European is in.'

'I don't know.' Suddenly Rashad touched his arm again. 'I've got to ask you some questions, Evan—’

'Evan? Thank you.'

'I'm sorry. Congressman. That was a slip.'

'Don't be, please. I think we're entitled to first names.'

'Now you stop—’

'But do you mind if I call you Khalehla? I'm more comfortable with it.'

'So am I. The Arab part of me has always resented the deniability of Adrienne.'

'Ask your questions—Khalehla.'

'At least you're not pronouncing it “Cawleyla”… All right. When did you decide to come to Masqat? Considering the circumstances and what you were able to do, you were late getting there.'

Kendrick took a deep breath. 'I'd been riding the rapids in Arizona when I reached a base camp called Lava Falls and heard a radio for the first time in several weeks. I knew I had to get to Washington…' Evan recounted the details of those frantic eight hours going from a comparatively primitive campsite in the mountains to the halls of the State Department and finally down to the sophisticated computer complex that was OHIO-Four-Zero. 'That's where Swann and I made our agreement and I was off and running.'

'Let's go back a minute,' said Khalehla, only at that moment taking her eyes off Kendrick's face. 'You hired a river plane to take you to Flagstaff, where you tried to charter a jet to DC, is that right?'

'Yes, but the charter desk said it was too late.'

'You were anxious,' suggested the field agent. 'Probably angry. You must have thrown your weight around a bit. A congressman from the great state of Colorado, et cetera.'

'More than a bit—and lots more of the et cetera.'

'You reached Phoenix and got the first commercial flight out. How did you pay for your ticket?'

'Credit card.'

'Bad form,' said Khalehla, 'but you had no reason to think so. How did you know whom to reach at the State Department?'

'I didn't, but remember I'd worked in Oman and the Emirates for years, so I knew the sort of person I wanted to find. And since I had inherited an experienced DC secretary who had the instincts of an alley cat, I told her what to look for. I made it clear that it would undoubtedly be someone in the State's Consular Operations, Middle East or Southwest Asia sections. Most Americans who've worked over there are familiar with those people—frequently up to their teeth.'

'So this secretary with the instincts of an alley cat began calling around asking questions. That must have raised a few eyebrows. Did she keep a list of whom she called?'

'I don't know. I never asked her. Everything was kind of frantic and I kept in touch with her on one of those air-to-ground phones during the flight from Phoenix. By the time I landed she had narrowed the possibilities down to four or five men, but only one was considered an expert on the Emirates and he was also a deputy director of Cons Op. Frank Swann.'

'It would be interesting to know if your secretary did keep a list,' said Khalehla, arching her neck, thinking.

'I'll phone her.'

'Not from here you won't. Besides, I'm not finished… So you went to State to find Swann, which means you checked in with security.'

'Naturally.'

'Did you check out?'

'Well no, not actually, not at the lobby desk. Instead, I was taken down to the parking area and driven home in a State Department car.'

'To your house?'

'Yes, I was on my way to Oman and had to get some things together—’

'What about the driver?' interrupted Khalehla. 'Did he address you by name?'

'No, never. But he did say something that shook me. I asked him if he wanted to come in for a snack or coffee while I packed, and he said, “I might get shot if I got out of this car,” or words to that effect. Then he added, “You're from OHIO-Four-Zero.'”

'Which means he wasn't,' said Rashad quickly. 'And you were in front of your house?'

'Yes. Then I stepped out and saw another car about a hundred feet behind us at the curb. It must have been following us; there are no other houses on that stretch of road.'

'An armed escort.' Khalehla nodded. 'Swann covered you from minute-one and he was right. He didn't have the time or the resources to trace everything that had happened to you minus-one.'

Evan was bewildered. 'Would you mind explaining that?'

'Minus-one is before you reached Swann. A rich, angry congressman using a chartered plane to Flagstaff makes a lot of noise about getting to Washington. He's turned down, so he flies to Phoenix, where he no doubt insists on the first flight out and pays with a credit card, and starts calling his secretary, who has the instincts of an alley cat, telling her to find a man he doesn't know but is sure exists at the Department of State. She makes her calls—frantically, I think you said—reaching a number of people who have to wonder why. She gets you a narrowed-down quorum—which means she's reached a lot of her contacts who could give her the information and who also had to wonder why, and you turn up at State demanding to see Frank Swann. Am I right? In your state of mind, did you demand to see him?'