«He thinks like we do. He thinks like Joe and Dick. Like us.»
«I repeat. Don’t jump. Call it the well-advertised woman’s intuition, but don’t jump… We could get hurt.»
Osterman dove into the pool and swam thirty-six feet under water to the far end. Leila was only half right, he thought. Tanner was an uncompromising newsman but he was also a sensible and sensitive human being. Tanner wasn’t a fool, he saw what was happening—everywhere. It was inevitable.
It all came down to individual survival.
It reduced itself to being able to do what one wanted to do. To write an «exorcism» if he was capable of it. Without worrying about deodorants in the state of Kansas.
Bernie surfaced and held onto the side of the pool, breathing deeply. He pushed himself off and slowly breast-stroked back toward his wife.
«Did I box you into a corner?»
«You never could.» Leila spoke while writing on the yellow pad. «There was a time in my life when I thought thirty thousand dollars was all the money in the world. Brooklyn’s house of Weintraub was not Chase Manhattan’s biggest client.» She tore off a page and secured it under a Pepsi-Cola bottle.
«I never had that problem,» said Bernie treading water. «The Ostermans are really a silent branch of the Rothschilds.»
«I know. Your racing colors are puce and pumpkin orange.»
«Hey!» Bernie suddenly grasped the ledge and looked excitedly at his wife. «Did I tell you? The trainer called this morning from Palm Springs. That two-year-old we bought did three furlongs in forty-one seconds!»
Leila Osterman dropped the pad on her lap and laughed. «You know, we’re really too much! And you want to play Dostoyevski!»
«I see what you mean… Well, someday.»
«Sure. In the meantime keep one eye on Kansas and the other on those cockamamie horses of yours.»
Osterman chuckled and plunged toward the opposite side of the pool. He thought once more about the Tanners. John and Ali Tanner. He’d cleared their names with Switzerland. Zurich was enthusiastic.
Bernard Osterman had made up his mind. Somehow he’d convince his wife.
He was going to talk seriously to John Tanner next weekend.
Danforth walked through the narrow front hallway of his Georgetown house and opened the door. Laurence Fassett, of the Central Intelligence Agency, smiled and extended his hand.
«Good afternoon, Mr. Danforth. Andrews called me from McLean. We’ve only met once before—I’m sure you don’t remember. It’s an honor, sir.»
Danforth looked at this extraordinary man and returned the smile. The C.I.A. dossier said Fassett was forty-seven, but to Danforth he seemed much younger. The broad shoulders, the muscular neck, the unwrinkled face beneath the short-cropped blond hair: this all reminded Danforth of his own approaching seventieth birthday.
«Of course I remember. Come in, please.»
As Fassett stepped into the hallway, his gaze fell on several Degas watercolors on the wall. He took a step closer. «These are beautiful.»
«Yes, they are. Are you an expert, Mr. Fassett?»
«Oh, no. Just an enthusiastic amateur… My wife was an artist. We used to spend a lot of time in the Louvre.»
Danforth knew he shouldn’t dwell on Fassett’s wife. She had been German—with ties in East Berlin. She had been killed in East Berlin.
«Yes, yes, of course. Come this way, please. Grover’s out back. We were watching the Woodward program on the patio.»
The two men walked out onto the flagstone and brick back yard. George Grover rose from his chair.
«Hello, Larry. Things are beginning to move.»
«Looks that way. It can’t be too quick for me.»
«Nor for any of us, I shouldn’t think,» said Danforth. «Drink?»
«No, thank you, sir. If you don’t mind, I’d rather make this as quick as possible.»
The three men sat down around the ceramic table. «Then let’s pick up from where we are right now,» Danforth said. «What is the immediate plan?»
Fassett looked bewildered. «I thought it had all been cleared through you.»
«Oh, I’ve read the reports. I just want the information firsthand from the man in charge.»
«All right, sir. Phase one is complete. The Tanners, the Tremaynes and the Cardones are all in Saddle Valley. No immediate vacations planned, they’ll be there throughout the coming week. This information is confirmed from all our sources. There are thirteen agents in the town and the three families will be under constant surveillance… Intercepts have been placed on all telephones. Untraceable.
«Los Angeles has established the Ostermans’ flight on Friday to be Number 509, arriving Kennedy at 4:50 Eastern Daylight Time. Their usual procedure is to take a taxi directly out to the suburbs. The cab will be followed, of course …»
«If, by then, they’re adhering to normal patterns,» interrupted Grover.
«If they’re not, they won’t be on that plane… Tomorrow we bring Tanner down to Washington.»
«He has no inkling at the moment, does he?» asked Danforth.
«None at all—other than the patrol car, which we’ll use if he balks tomorrow morning.»
«How do you think he’ll take it?» Grover leaned forward on his seat.
«I think it’ll blow his mind.»
«He may refuse to cooperate,» Dansforth said.
«That’s not likely. If I do my job, he won’t have a choice.»
Danforth looked at the intense, muscular man who spoke so confidently. «You’re anxious that we succeed, aren’t you? You’re very committed.»
«I have reason to be.» Fassett returned the old man’s stare. When he continued it was in a matter-of-fact tone. «They killed my wife. They ran her down on the Kurfürstendamm at two o’clock in the morning—while I was being ‘detained.’ She was trying to find me. Did you know that?»
«I’ve read the file. You have my deepest sympathy…»
«I don’t want your sympathy. Those orders came from Moscow. I want them. I want Omega.»
Part Two: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday
2
Monday—10:15 A.M.
Tanner left the elevator and walked down the thickly carpeted corridor toward his office. He’d spent twenty-five minutes in the screening room watching the Woodward tape. It confirmed what the newspapers had reported: Charles Woodward had exposed Undersecretary Ashton as a political hack.
There had to be a lot of embarrassed men in Washington, he thought.
«Quite a show, wasn’t it?» his secretary said.
«Out-of-sight, as my son would put it. I don’t think we can expect many dinner invitations to the White House. Any calls?»
«From all over town. Mainly congratulations; I left the names on your desk.»
«That’s comforting. I may need them. Anything else?»
«Yes, sir. The F.C.C. called twice. A man called Fassett.»
«Who?»
«Mr. Laurence Fassett.»
«We’ve always dealt with Cranston down there.»
«That’s what I thought, but he said it was urgent.»
«Maybe the State Department’s trying to get us arrested before sundown.»
«I doubt it. They’d at least wait a day or two; it’d look less political.»
«You’d better get him back. To the F.C.C. everything’s urgent.» Tanner crossed into his office, sat down at his desk, and read through the messages. He smiled; even his competition had been impressed.
The telephone intercom buzzed. «Mr. Fassett’s on one, sir.»
«Thanks.» Tanner pushed the appropriate button. «Mr. Fassett? Sorry I was out of the office when you called.»
«It’s my place to apologize,» said the polite voice at the other end of the line. «It’s just that I have a difficult schedule today, and you’re a priority.»