Authors: Robert Ludlum
“You could have sold me, sold my name for a price.”
“For what? My
life
? For the lives of those I used to track you, men who are important to me and the work I do—work I think has real value, which I tried to explain to you in Bahrain? You really
believe
that?”
“Oh, Jesus, I don’t know
what
to believe!” admitted Evan, expelling his breath and shaking his head. “Everything I wanted
to do, everything I’d planned, has been thrown out in the garbage. Ahmat doesn’t want to see me again, I can’t go back—there or anywhere else in the Emirates or the gulfs. He’ll see to it.”
“You
wanted
to go back?”
“More than anything. I wanted to take up my life again where I did my best work. But first I had to find and get rid of a son of a bitch who’d crippled everything, killed for the sake of killing—so many.”
“The Mahdi,” interrupted Rashad, nodding. “Ahmat told me. You did it. Ahmat’s young and he’ll change. In time he’ll understand what you did for everyone over there and be grateful.… But you just answered a question. You see, I thought that you might have blown the story yourself, but you didn’t, did you?”
“Me? You’re out of your
mind
! I’m getting out of here in six months!”
“There’s no political ambition, then?”
“Christ,
no
! I’m packing it in, I’m leaving! Only, now I haven’t got any place to go. Someone’s trying to stop me, making me into something I’m not. What the hell is
happening
to me?”
“Offhand I’d say you were being exhumed.”
“Being
what
? By
whom
?”
“By someone who thinks you were slighted. Someone who believes you deserve public acclaim, prominence.”
“Which I don’t want! And the President isn’t helping. He’s awarding me the Medal of Freedom next Tuesday in the goddamned Blue Room with the whole Marine Band! I told him I didn’t want it, and the son of a bitch said I had to show up because he refused to look like a ‘chintzy bastard.’ What kind of reasoning is
that
?”
“Very presidential—” Rashad suddenly stopped. “Let’s walk,” she said quickly as two white-suited members of the staff appeared at the base of the dock. “Don’t look around. Be casual. We’ll just stroll down this poor excuse for a beach.”
“May I talk?” asked Kendrick as he fell in step.
“Not anything germane. Wait till we get around the bend.”
“Why? Can they hear us?”
“Possibly. I’m not really sure.” They followed the curve of the shoreline until the trees obscured the two men on the dock. “The Japanese have developed directional relays, although I’ve never seen one,” continued Rashad aimlessly. Then she stopped again and looked up at Evan, her intelligent eyes questioning. “You spoke to Ahmat?” she asked.
“Yesterday. He told me to go to hell but not to go back to Oman. Ever.”
“You understand that I’ll check with him, don’t you?”
Evan was suddenly astonished, then angry.
She
was questioning
him
, accusing him, checking up on
him
. “I don’t give a damn what you do, my only concern is what you may have
done
. You’re convincing, Khalehla—excuse me—Miss Rashad, and you may believe what you say, but the six men who knew about me had everything to lose and not a goddamned thing to gain by saying that I was in Masqat last year.”
“And
I
had nothing to lose but my life and the lives of those I’ve cultivated throughout the sector, some of whom, incidentally, are very dear to me? Get off your plug horse, Congressman, you look ridiculous. You’re not only an amateur, you’re insufferable.”
“You know, it’s possible you could have made a
mistake
!” cried Kendrick, exasperated. “I’d almost be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt—I implied as much to Dennison and told him I wouldn’t let him hang you for it.”
“Oh, you’re too kind, sir.”
“No, I meant it. You
did
save my life, and if you made a slip and dropped my name—”
“Don’t compound your asininity,” Rashad broke in. “It’s far,
far
more likely that any five of the others might have made a slip like that than either Grayson or myself. We live in the field; we don’t make that kind of mistake.”
“Let’s walk,” said Evan—no guards in sight, only his doubts and his confusion forcing him to move. His problem was that he believed her, believed what Manny Weingrass said about her: “…
she had nothing to do with exposing you.… it would only add to her shame and further inflame the crazy world she lives in
.” And when Kendrick protested that the others couldn’t have, Manny had added: “
Then there are others beyond others
.…” They came to a dirt path that led up through the trees apparently to the stone wall bordering the estate. “Shall we explore?” asked Evan.
“Why not?” said Adrienne coldly.
“Look,” he continued as they climbed the wooded slope side by side, “say I believe you—”
“Thank you so much.”
“All right, I
do
believe you! And because I do I’m going to tell you something that only Swann and Dennison know; the others don’t, at least I don’t think they do.”
“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 gets 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 the dirt path 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 computer man, but outside of 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.”
“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 sixteen 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 D.C., 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 D.C. secretary who has the instincts of an alley cat, I told
her
what to look for. I made it clear that it would undoubtedly be someone in 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 up. 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 had to 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. An angry rich 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?”
“Yes. I was given a runaround, told he wasn’t there, but I knew he was, my secretary had confirmed it. I guess I was pretty adamant. Finally, they let me go up to his office.”
“Then after you talked with him he made his decision to send you to Masqat.”
“So?”
“That tight little circle you spoke of wasn’t very little or very tight, Evan. You did what anyone else would do under the circumstances—under the stress you felt. You left a number of impressions during that agitated journey from Lava Falls to
Washington. You could easily be traced back through Phoenix to Flagstaff, your name and your loud insistence on fast transportation remembered by a lot of people, especially because of the time of night. Then you show up at the State Department, where you made more noises—incidentally, checking in with security but not checking out—until you were permitted to go up to Swann’s office.”