and Dick Yemm. Baranov was long dead. Which left Nikolayev. Rencke felt a sudden stab of fear. He dialed up the CIA’s Office of Security’s locator service and found out where Todd and Liz were staying at in Vail. He got an outside line and called the number. It was a little after five o’clock there. “The Lodge at Vail, how may I direct your call?” “I want to talk to one of your guests. Todd Van Buren.” “One moment, please,” the operator said. She was back a minute later. “I’m sorry, sir, Mr. Van Buren does not answer.” “This is an emergency.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Would you care to leave a message on his voice mail?”
Rencke broke the connection. He was starting to sweat. He composed himself, then called the ODin Operations. This evening it was Chris Walker. Rencke vaguely knew the young man; his impression was that Walker was earnest. “Operations.” “This is Rencke in the DCI’s office. I want to talk to Todd Van Buren.” “We have a team en route, sir. Have you tried their hotel? They’re staying at the Lodge at Vail.” “I tried their room, but the hotel operator said there was no answer.” Flashes were going off inside Rencke’s head. It was like the Fourth of July, only more intense. “Call hotel security, I want someone to check their room right now. And where the hell is our team, and where’s the FBI?” Walker hesitated. “Is there a problem, sir?” “I don’t know,” Rencke said, calming himself. Nothing happened to them.
They were still on the slopes or in the ski lodge having a drink.
“Have them paged if they’re not in their room. Then call me back.”
“Yes, sir.” Otto stared at his computer monitor. Nikolayev was the key, of course. It was possible that he had murdered General Zhuralev in Moscow, then disappeared. It was also possible that Nikolayev had arranged for the assassination attempt on Mac. But why, after all these years? General Baranov was long dead. Surely there weren’t any vendettas after all this time. Something like that would be beyond all reason. It would be … insane. It was equally obvious that someone did not want Mac to become the DCI and was out to stop him. But could a dead man be behind it? Chris Walker called back ten minutes later.
“They’re not there, Mr. Rencke. It looks like they weren’t there all day. And they don’t answer their page.” Rencke’s fear solidified as if his heart had been flash-frozen. “I want them found within the hour. Whatever it takes, find them.” “Yes, sir,” the OD responded.
“We’re on it.”
TWENTY-TWO
PEOPLE REMEMBERED LIES MUCH LONGER THAN THEY REMEMBERED THE TRUTH.
As soon as the Gulfstream jet stopped in the Andrews VIP hangar it was surrounded by a dozen Air Force Special Forces troops armed and dressed in BDUs. Watching from a window, McGarvey spotted Dick Adkins climbing out of a CIA car. He was flanked by a couple of bulky men in civilian clothes. Everyone looked grim, expectant. It was the middle of the night. Kathleen had refused anything to eat or drink during the four-hour flight from San Juan, and McGarvey was worried about her. She held his hand in a death grip, her knuckles turning white when she saw the armed guards. “It’s okay, Katy,” he assured her. “We’re home safe now.” “What about Elizabeth and the baby?” Her voice was strident, her mood brittle despite the sedatives the doctors in San Juan had given her. “Somebody is with them.”
Yemm went to the hatch and popped it open. He gave a nod to his people standing next to Adkins, assuring himself that the situation in the hangar was under control. He turned back. “Mr. Director.” McGarvey helped Kathleen out of her seat, and with Yemm’s help got her out of the airplane. Adkins came over, a look of deep concern on his face when he saw what kind of condition Kathleen was in. “Welcome home,” he said. “Do you want an ambulance?” “No, we’re going straight home,”
McGarvey said. “Are Todd and my daughter on the way back?” “Security is with them. They haven’t been told anything yet.” Kathleen clutched his arm. “They’re okay, Dick?” “They’ll be okay,” Adkins promised her. There was a wildness in her eyes that was disturbing, as if she were seeing things that were invisible to the rest of them. “We’ll have them back by noon,” Adkins said. She suddenly became aware of her surroundings. She straightened up and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “We weren’t expecting this sort of a reception,” she said. “None of this has been in the news, has it?” The question caught Adkins by surprise. “No, we have it contained so far. But it won’t hold forever.” She patted his arm maternally. “Nothing ever does, didn’t you know?” She managed a weak smile. “How’s Ruth?”
“She’s back from the hospital. We’re going to work it out.” “Good,”
Kathleen said. “Good for you.” She turned to her husband. “It’s time to go home now. I’m sleepy.” “Housekeeping has the Cropley safe house ready ”
“We’re going home, Dick,” McGarvey said. Adkins seemed embarrassed. “Who do you want to handle the debriefing “I’ll come in around noon. We’ll decide then,” McGarvey said. He helped Kathleen into the back of the limo, then turned back to Adkins. “Ask Dr.
Stenzel if he would come out to the house this morning. The earlier the better.” “Will do,” Adkins said. “I’m glad that you’re back in one piece.” Kathleen said nothing on the way home, leaning back in her seat and looking out the window. The snow had finally stopped, the weather had cleared and the temperature had plunged into the single digits, unusual for Washington.
Yemm, riding shotgun in the front seat, issued a steady stream of orders and instructions on the encrypted radio link with headquarters to make sure that there were no holes in the security arrangements.
He’d spent a good deal of time on the radio aboard the Gulfstream setting up their arrival. Washington seemed like a strange, alien place to McGarvey now. He felt like a boxer who was backed against the ropes. He had the necessary skills to defend himself, but he didn’t have the room, not with Kathleen and Elizabeth and the baby to worry about. But he had turned some kind of a corner. He no longer wanted to run. He wanted to stay and meet the enemy head-on; in fact, he looked forward to it. Yet there was the same nagging, scratchy feeling at the back of his head, warning him that this time the situation was different. This was something that he’d never faced before. The downstairs lights were on when they pulled into the driveway. Security had gone over the house and grounds, including all eighteen holes of the golf course, with infrared and electronics emissions equipment.
Motion detectors had been installed, and rapid response monitors had been placed in every room of the house. If anything, no matter how slight, seemed to be out of the ordinary, night or day, a rapid response team would be on-site within minutes. Noises, power surges, unexplained heat or electronic sources, even airborne chemical odors of explosives would trigger the devices. Yemm got out first and spoke with the watch commander parked in a van at the end of the driveway, then went up to the house. The front door opened as he reached the porch, and a young woman in blue jeans and a GO NAVY sweatshirt was standing there. Yemm said something to her, then came back to the limo. “We’ve arranged for you to have a couple of houseguests,” he told McGarvey. “They’ll act as internal security, and they’ll help with the cooking and housework until we get through this.” Kathleen was an intensely private person, and McGarvey didn’t know how she was going to react. But it would be useless to argue because Yemm was right. This was part and parcel of being DCI. He didn’t think that a lot of DCIs before him much cared for the lack of privacy either. But the help would be welcome. There was no possible way that a housekeeper was going to be vetted before the situation was resolved. And Kathleen was not up to keeping the house running. Not now. She was indifferent toward the two Office of Security agents, both women about Elizabeth’s age. They introduced themselves as Peggy Vaccaro and Janis Westlake.