“Yes, Senator, according to my sworn testimony, then and now.” “But you were sacked anyway, weren’t you?” she continued to hammer. “Yes.”
Senator Clawson interrupted. “Knowing what you know now, would you have gone ahead with the assassination?” McGarvey had agonized over that question for a very long time. He could never forget the horrifed look on the woman’s face, knowing that she was about to die. It wasn’t until years later that he had learned that Christina Pinar had styled herself as a female Mengele. She had tortured many of the prisoners, and had even ordered the harvesting of their hair and gold fillings, the money going directly to her. Knowing that she was a monster just like her husband did not erase his memories, however. Nor did they ease his pain. He had murdered two defenseless people. He nodded.
“Yes. General Pinar was a bad man. He would almost certainly have continued killing innocent people. The CIA thought that there was a real possiblity that he would take over the military government.” “Why were you fired?” Clawson asked. “Political expediency,” McGarvey answered without hesitation. “The CIA is an executive branch agency.
The Senate was trying take control, as it has on several occasions since.” “Oversight ” Hammond blustered. “Yes, Senator, I agree that the CIA needs oversight. But responsible oversight.” He looked directly at Brenda Madden. “I have no doubt that I’ll read about my testimony in tomorrow’s Washington Post.”” There was an angry stir from the senators as well as from the audience. Hammond banged his gavel for order. “You’re not doing yourself much good here,” Senator Clawson said, not unkindly.
“You’ll either recommend to confirm me or you won’t. But for the sake of the men and women working for me I want you to understand that you’re putting their lives at risk by criminally sloppy security measures. If you want answers, then understand that the information you’re looking for could cause the United States a great deal of damage if it becomes public.” “Like everything you’ve ever been involved with, the outcomes have always been the same,” Brenda Madden interjected. “Bodies stacked like cord-wood. Yet you have the gall to sit there and point a finger at us?” Hammond was again banging his gavel for order. “I have just one further question for Mr. McGarvey,”
Brenda Madden said. Hammond stopped his gavel in mid swing and Brenda Madden turned back to McGarvey. Her voice was calm now, soft, even reasonable. “Do you know how many men, and probably some women, whom you have murdered in your career, Mr. McGarvey?” she asked. “Do you even care?” “I know the number,” McGarvey replied softly. It was etched on his soul. “And yes, I do care.” They were coming for him now. Back from the grave. From a past that he could not change. This time he could not stand up and face them because he didn’t know who they were, or from what direction they were coming.
FOURTEEN
“YOU’RE THE DCI. SOMEBODY’S ALWAYS AFTER THE DCI. IT’S WHY YOU HAVE BODYGUARDS AND RIDE AROUND IN AN ARMORED LIMO.”
Early in the afternoon McGarvey and Paterson rode back to CIA headquarters. The hearing had dragged on for nearly five hours without letup and Mac was bone weary. “Reading the records and hearing about those kinds of things in person are two wholly different experiences,”
Paterson said. “Living through them is even worse,” McGarvey replied.
He managed a tired smile. “Still with me, Counselor? Still think that I’d make a good DCI?” Paterson nodded. “My friends call me Pat. If anything I know for sure now that you’ll make a damned fine DCI.” His lips compressed. “People like Senator Madden have their circles of friends. But they’re usually very isolated and they know it. Makes them bitter. Most Americans are reasonable people. That includes politicians.” McGarvey had to laugh. “You’re becoming more convinced, and I’m becoming less convinced.”
“Come on, Mac, you can’t believe that the direction they’ve taken will hold up in the full Senate. It’s primarily Hammond and Madden who want to dump you. The others are, at worst, neutral.” McGarvey pulled himself out of his downward slide. “You’re right, Pat.” He glanced out the window at the snow piled along the road up to the headquarters building. Already it was dirty; mixed with salt, oil, dust. The next snowfall would cover it, but a day later it would be grungy again. He turned back to Paterson. “Postpone tomorrow’s hearing until Monday. I need a couple of days off. Can you do that without creating a firestorm?” “Sure. I don’t blame you; we all could use a break.”
“I’m taking Katy out of town for a long weekend.” He caught Yemm’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Good. Don’t even think about this place while you’re gone,” Paterson said. They went through security together at the executive entrance. Paterson headed off to his office, leaving McGarvey to ride up with Yemm. “Do you want me to have travel section work out something?” Yemm asked. “Yeah. Let’s go down to JefFHamil’s place.” Harml had been the deputy director of Operations during planning stages for the Bay of Pigs. He had set up a CIA-owned compound on St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands to train some of the top Cuban officers. In addition to the old sugar plantation great house with its long verandas, there were a half-dozen outbuildings, some of them barracks, that the National Park Service sometimes used for ranger training. Most of the island was national park land.
McGarvey had been down there a couple of times with Roland Murphy, but Katy had never been. He expected that she would fall in love with the place, as he had. It was an idyllic tropical paradise. “When do we leave?” “I have to take care of a few things in the morning. Let’s say we leave at noon, and come back Sunday afternoon.” “Just you and Mrs. M.?” Yemm asked. “I’ll ask the kids if they want to tag along.”
“Safety in numbers,” Yemm murmured. McGarvey turned. Yemm had an odd, hooded look on his face, as if he was hiding something. “What are you talking about?” “In case somebody wants to take a potshot at you, boss. The more people that are around you, the tougher it becomes for an assassin to get close.” “I didn’t know that anyone was after me.”
Yemrn shrugged. “You’re the DCI. Somebody’s always after the DCI.
It’s why you have bodyguards and ride around in an armored limo.” Dick Adkins agreed to take care of the President’s Friday briefing. Mac would come in for a couple of hours to help put it together. There was nothing urgently pressing on the horizon. Even the Watch Report, which covered hot spots where fighting was taking place or was about to erupt, was mostly clear. “How’d it go on the Hill today?” he asked.