I can be mighty generous with the money somebody was paid to murder me. He stared at the wad in my hand. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I’m in a very generous mood. I learned I just won the lottery and I need to call my broker to tell him to take a big breath and get ready for a windfall.”
Which, as metaphors go, was actually pretty good. He looked at me like he couldn’t believe it. “You’re bullshittin’ me, right?”
I waved the five hundred dollars. “Two more seconds and I move on to the next lucky guy.”
Before you could say “take it,” I had his cell phone and he had my money. I wandered over to the corner of the lobby. I went through this little charade because I figured the CIA had some sort of tracing service and I couldn’t afford to let Johnson and Mary know where I was. I didn’t want some goon squad showing up and spoiling my day.
I dialed the number for the CIA and told the switchboard lady to put me through to Harold Johnson’s office.
“Hello, Major, Mary’s here. What’s this about?” he asked, his tone sounding edgy, like he just knew this wasn’t going to be a happy moment, because he’d already had one sour experience with me and the bad taste lingered. As I mentioned before, it’s always nice to know you’re remembered.
“Put me on the speakerphone. You both need to hear this.”
As soon as he assured me I was on, I played the whole tape. You could hear the occasional slaps and howls, but the voices came through very clearly.
Johnson’s voice sounded alarmed and disapproving at the same time. “Whose voice was that?” he barked.
“Milton Martin’s,” I replied, then said nothing, knowing both their faces were going pale with anguish.
Johnson put me on hold so I couldn’t hear their conversation. I didn’t need to. I knew damn well what he and Mary were jabbering about, and while I would’ve enjoyed overhearing the panic attack that I’d just paid five hundred dollars for the listening rights to, I patiently waited for two minutes while they tried to figure out how to handle me and an audiotape that would shoot to the top of the charts on anybody’s list.
The speakerphone finally came back on. Johnson said, “Drummond, that confession sounded coerced.”
“Well, Mr. Johnson, it was coerced. So what? I did your dirty work for you; I found the mole you couldn’t find.”
“Where’s Martin? Did you kill him?”
“No. I left him in the woods across the river from West Point. I thought you’d appreciate the irony, West Point being the fort Benedict Arnold tried to betray. He was a little distraught and wasn’t very good company anymore.”
Mary said, “Oh my God, you didn’t.”
“Oh my God, I did,” I said. “And one way or another, it’s your fault.”
“How do you get that?” Johnson asked.
“Because you people set me up.”
“We weren’t setting you up,” Johnson insisted.
“Bullshit. You were following and watching me. When somebody tried to murder me and my co-counsel yesterday, your people came along and cleaned up afterward. Did Martin put you up to that?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Drummond.”
“I don’t, huh? What happened to the bodies of those guys who tried to kill me and my co-counsel? Where’d they disappear to? What about the runaround I got from the FBI when I tried to get help?”
I heard a murmuring sound as Mary and Johnson clued each other about how to handle me. Then Mary, the woman I used to do the hokey with, said, “Sean, you’ve got it confused.”
“Confused, huh?” I yelled into the phone. “I saw your guys in Tysons mall when I gave you the slip. Don’t lie to me, Mary. If I lose trust in you, I’ll call the Post and Times and play this tape for them.”
Which was an overstatement, because I’d already lost trust in Mary, and in Johnson’s case, I’d never trusted the bastard in the first place.
Johnson said, “Don’t do that, Drummond. For Godsakes, don’t even make that threat. You’ll set back our relations with Russia by a dozen years. You’re a soldier. A scandal like this will seriously harm this country.”
My voice grew louder. “I’m that classic rat driven into the corner. You put me here. I don’t think about consequences any longer, I just lash out. Guys like me are really, really scary.”
I heard more murmuring, and if I had to guess what was being said, it was Mary telling Johnson it was true. I was really, really scary.
“Okay, okay,” Johnson came back on, trying to sound placating, the professional hostage negotiator who knew how to calm the nerves of an overwrought subject. “We’ll get through this, Sean. Calm down and we’ll get through this.”
By this time, my anger was reverberating over their speakerphone. “I’ve survived two attempts on my life. A fellow officer was brutally murdered. You got the number for the Senate Intelligence Oversight Committee? Those right-wing politicos on the committee love this kind of shit. They think we’re suckers for getting closer to Russia, anyway. Ah, hell, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll get the number from the operator. Listen, I’ve got a lot of calls to make, so I’ve got to run.”
Mary, sounding desperate said, “Sean, don’t. Please. Just talk this out.”
I yelled, “Talk it out with the newspapers! I don’t want to hear your lies and-”
“You’re right,” she interrupted.
“About what?”
“We were having you followed and watched.”
“Why?”
“Ever since Moscow. Ever since that first attempt. Mort Jackler’s our man. He’s not stupid, Sean. When you tried blaming that attempt on Mel Torianski, he knew you were lying. We saw you meeting with Alexi. You’ve been watched ever since. We had to know why someone was trying to kill Bill’s defense team. And we had to protect Alexi.”
“If you were watching, how come Katrina and I almost got killed?”
“We were caught flat-footed. I swear it’s true. We couldn’t protect you. It all went down too fast. And when you told me Katrina wasn’t on the team, I pulled off her security.”
“But you could hide the attempts afterward? And you could have the FBI cold-shoulder us? You could do that because you wanted us to stay out in the cold as bait. You used us. Jesus, Mary, you are one cold-blooded bitch.”
“You brought it on yourself, Sean. You got overinvolved. I warned you. You were talking with Alexi. I warned you not to do that.”
“And what? When somebody tried to kill me, you thought you’d use me to figure out who? Was it that cold?”
“I didn’t like doing it, Sean. I swear I didn’t.”
“No, of course you didn’t, Mary.”
Johnson, knowing this thing was going south, quickly interjected, “It’s true, Sean. She argued against it. I overruled her.”
I shook my head. Sure she did. They thought they were so clever. That’s the problem with people who rise up to the heights of their bureaucracies and get big fancy titles. They actually begin to think they really are smarter than everybody else.
I said, “And what about Bill Morrison, my client, Mary’s husband, the man accused of treason?”
Johnson said, “Um, well, until this conversation we were convinced he was our man. God damn… Milt Martin. I’m still having trouble believing it. Of course, Morrison’s still guilty of some serious crimes. According to your tape, he gave Martin the names of our assets. That was a serious security violation that led directly to their deaths.”
“Uh-huh,” I commented. “And what are you going to do about Arbatov?”
“What about him?” Johnson asked.
“ ‘What about him?’ ” I sarcastically mimicked. “He’s been exposed. Victor knows about him. He’s at risk.”
Johnson’s tone sounded deeply sympathetic. “Yes, it’s a shame, isn’t it? That’s always the risk in our profession. Alexi knew this, of course. He knew it from the moment he first made contact with Bill Morrison.”