Inside Out (27 page)

Ulrich checked his watch for probably the tenth time in an hour. Almost ten o’clock. He needed to go home and get some sleep. But he’d become so afraid of being away from the secure phone that he was hurrying back to his desk even from bathroom breaks. Anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to sleep even if he left. All he could do these days was toss and turn until the sun rose and he could get up and come into the office without it being so early he would seem deranged or obsessed.

The secure line buzzed. He jumped and then snatched up the receiver.

“Ulrich.”

“Clements. Okay to talk?”

“I’ll tell you if it isn’t, okay? What is it?”

“We have a problem.”

Ulrich flinched. If Clements had been a doctor, “problem” would doubtless be his favorite way of informing patients they had inoperable brain cancer.

He closed his eyes. “Tell me.”

“We lost everybody. Twelve Blackwater contractors, two Ground Branch operators. They’re all dead.”

Ulrich shook his head. It was unbelievable. This was just … this couldn’t be happening to him.

“What about Larison?”

“We’re pretty sure he’s not among the dead.”

“Why just ‘pretty sure’?”

“Because there are no survivors. There’s no one to report in. So all I can tell you right now is the math. We sent twelve contractors and two operators. Costa Rican media is reporting fourteen dead. Yeah, it’s possible one of the dead is Larison or one of them is Treven, but if that were the case, it would mean at least one of our guys was still alive. And if one of our guys were alive, he would have reported in by now. So I think it’s a pretty safe assumption that Larison killed all of them, or that he killed the Blackwater snatch teams and Treven killed the two Ground Branch.”

Ulrich dropped his glasses on the desk and scrubbed a hand across his face. “What about the tapes?”

“No sign of release. Yet.”

“What’s our next move?”

“We don’t have one. The op has been turned over to JSOC.”

Ulrich didn’t respond. It was really almost funny. How just when you thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, they always found a way.

“You there?” Clements said.

“How did this happen?”

“The national security adviser was furious when I told him the snatch teams were Blackwater. ‘You deceived me, you told me they were Ground Branch, blah, blah, blah.’ I told him it didn’t matter, that the Blackwater guys were all former government, anyway. I mean, he was only pissed because the op failed. If it had worked,
he wouldn’t have cared if we’d hired goddamn al Qaeda to do it. And I told him so.”

It was actually amusing, imagining Clements growing some balls that way. “Very diplomatic of you.”

“It didn’t matter what I said. His mind was already made up. At which point, Horton made his move. And now he’s the national security adviser’s best friend.”

“For all we know, Horton’s people took out the snatch teams. So Horton could go back to the national security adviser, say I told you so, and take over the op.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”

“Fine. What does he propose?”

“That we give Larison the diamonds.”

Ulrich laughed. “That’s his plan? That’s what he proposed? That we just capitulate to this pyscho’s demands and call it a day? That’s ingenious. I can’t believe no one else thought of it.”

“Yeah, well, the national security adviser seems to like it. We’ve got an interagency meeting in his office first thing to thrash out the details.”

Ulrich tried to think of anything he’d seen that had spiraled this far out of control and still been righted in the end. Nothing came to mind.

“Well,” he said, “I guess we just have to hope that Horton knows what the hell he’s doing. And maybe he does. It’s not like he’s squeaky clean on all this. After all, he’s the one who took care of the Caspers.”

There are different kinds of truths for different kinds of people. There are truths appropriate for children; truths that are appropriate for students; truths that are appropriate for educated adults; and truths that are appropriate for highly educated adults, and the notion that there should be one set of truths available to everyone is a modern democratic fallacy. It doesn’t work
.

IRVING KRISTOL

No, there will be no review. The President has determined that they are all enemy combatants. We are not going to revisit it
.

DAVID ADDINGTON, CHIEF OF STAFF TO VICE PRESIDENT CHENEY

Sometimes in life you want to just keep walking …. Don’t always be issuing papers and reports. Some of life has to be mysterious
.

PEGGY NOONAN, ABC NEWS

Ben’s phone buzzed. He opened his eyes and saw faint light coming through the window. He picked up. “Yeah.”

“You get any sleep?” Hort said.

Ben looked at the clock readout. Shit, he’d been unconscious for over six hours. He’d needed it. “Yeah, believe it or not.” Paula opened her eyes and Ben raised a finger to his lips.

“Good. We have a task group meeting with the national security adviser in thirty minutes. We just got an email from Larison, and he says he’ll be calling. I want you to listen in.”

“Listen in? How am I going to do that?”

“I’m going to leave my mobile phone on. Set to speakerphone. A little oversight on my part.”

“You can do something like that in the White House?”

“The meeting’s not in the White House. The national security
adviser wants to keep this thing as far from the president as he can. The meeting is at his house in Potomac.”

Once again, Ben was intrigued that Hort was including him in management stuff, if only on a listen-and-learn basis. “Okay … ,” he said.

“It’s just him, me, and the deputy director of central intelligence, Stephen Clements. Clements is the genius who convinced the national security adviser that it made sense to try to snatch Larison. And by the way, the snatch teams weren’t Ground Branch. They were Blackwater.”

“Are you kidding? The Agency contracted out
this
snatch?”

“They did. The good news is, the national security adviser is very unhappy about it. With a little luck, that means he’ll listen to reason.”

“You mean listen to you.”

“Son, believe me, on this one there’s no difference.”

“So those two guys who tried to drop Paula and me … they were Blackwater?”

“That’s a little unclear right now. Clements says they were Ground Branch, there to supervise. He thinks Larison killed them along with the snatch teams. Or he’s pretending to think that.”

“What do you think?”

There was a pause. “I don’t know what to think. There’s always a lot of maneuvering between the various agencies. I’d hate to think it’s gotten to the point where we’re trying to bump off each other’s players.”

“I told you, it was supposed to be a hit.”

“I don’t doubt you. Believe me, there’s more behind-the-scenes bullshit on this op than I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, I’ve been getting that feeling.”

“Well, for that reason as much as any other, I want you to be able to see how decisions are getting made here.”

So that’s why Hort wanted him to listen in—to prove that he had nothing to do with the two guys outside Nico’s office. To show
that, even after Obsidian, Ben could trust him. Or maybe this was more management grooming. Or both.

“Okay,” he said again.

“I’ll call in a half hour. Keep your phone on mute. And I’ll call again after, when it’s done and we can talk securely.”

“Roger that.”

“How’s your FBI friend?”

It was the second time Hort had referred to her as his “friend.” He wondered whether Hort suspected something was up. He would have seen her photo from her Bureau file.

“She’s okay. A little shaken up by what happened yesterday, but okay.” He looked at Paula’s face, but couldn’t learn anything from her expression.

“All right, good. Be ready in thirty minutes.” He clicked off.

Ben put the phone down. Paula said, “What was that?”

Ben wasn’t sure how to answer. He couldn’t really get rid of Paula before the next call. And the thought of needing to do so, when they were lying next to each other naked, was exceptionally strange.

“It was my boss. He says Larison is supposed to call in again in thirty minutes. He wants me to listen in.”

“Why?”

“So I’ll know what’s going on.”

“Which is …?”

“I don’t know, exactly. But it seems like the snatch teams were Blackwater, and the two guys who showed up after were CIA Ground Branch.”

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure, but my boss’s information is usually pretty good. Looks like the CIA doesn’t want you to recover those tapes. And doesn’t want anyone else to, either.”

She didn’t say anything. He thought she looked a little ill.

“I know,” he said. “It’s a dark day for interagency cooperation. Outside of you and me, I mean.”

He thought the crack would get her to smile, but she didn’t. Which was really too bad, because, after all, they had a half hour to kill.

“You okay?”

She shook her head. “I just … I just don’t know what the hell’s going on.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen some crazy shit, but this one is up there, no doubt.”

“Then why are you so cheerful?”

He shrugged. “I got laid last night. That always puts me in a good mood.”

That made her smile. “Yeah? Was she good?”

He felt his lips. They were swollen and tender. “Well, she’s got a good straight right, I can tell you that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is that all?”

He smiled. “No, there’s more. And if she joins me in the shower, I’ll tell her all about it.”

Thirty minutes in the shower wasn’t quite what Ben would have allotted if it had been up to him, but they managed to use the time well. Afterward, Paula got into the sundress and Ben pulled on the shirt he’d bought. He put the one he’d been wearing the day before in the laundry bag with Paula’s clothes. They’d dump it somewhere far from the hotel.

“Just gotta listen in on this call,” he said. “And then we’ll go.”

“Put it on speakerphone.”

Shit, he should have seen that coming. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t tell me you’re keeping secrets from me. Not after what happened yesterday. Not after what’s happened since then.”

He briefly considered telling her that was all separate, that shared danger, even a shared pillow, didn’t mean he could share operational details, too. And decided that, if he did, she was going
to start punching him again. And besides, it wasn’t really a question of operational details. It was just a bunch of managers arguing about what to do. And hell, she knew a lot already.

He nodded. “All right. Speakerphone.”

She smiled. “Now, this is Larison? Calling whom?”

“As far as I know, just my boss, the national security adviser, and a guy from the CIA.”

“Who’s your boss?”

Shit
. Another one he should have seen coming. He was tired. Or he was distracted by what had happened with her. Either way, things were getting past him.

“Let’s just listen in, okay?” he said.

“There’s nobody from Justice on this call?”

“I guess not.”

“Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Justice is blind,’ doesn’t it?”

Ben shrugged. “I think these guys are more concerned about the national security implications of the situation than they are about the justice ones.”

They sat on the unused bed and waited. The phone buzzed just a minute later. Ben raised a finger to his lips, answered the call, and immediately pressed the mute button.

“I’m going to explain the deal to you,” said a low and raspy voice, the tone calm and confident. Given the current circumstances, Ben figured it was Larison, about to issue instructions.

“We’re listening.” Ben didn’t recognize this one, either, but assumed it was the national security adviser, running the meeting.

“It’s actually very simple,” Larison said. “Nothing’s changed. If the diamonds haven’t been delivered to me in twenty-four hours in accordance with my instructions, the tapes will be released.”

“I understand,” the national security adviser said. “I’m going to turn this meeting over now to our new point man on the operation. I think you know him. Colonel?”

“How are you doing, son?” Hort said. Paula mouthed,
Your
boss?
And Ben, feeling he had no choice, figuring she pretty much knew who he was at this point anyway, nodded.

There was a pause. Larison said, “Hort?”

“It’s me.”

“I had a feeling they’d bring you in.”

“Well, I wish they’d brought me in earlier. This thing would have been handled better.”

“All I want to hear is that you have the diamonds. If you do, we’ll keep talking. If you don’t, you’re wasting my time.”

“We have them.”

“Where are they?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where are you holding them? What city?”

“They’re here in Washington.”

“Good. I’ll call again in twenty-four hours and tell you how you’ll deliver them. You’ll use a single courier. I think you understand what will happen if you deviate from my instructions.”

“You made your point in Costa Rica, son. Loud and clear.”

“Twenty-four hours. You’ll want to have a jet ready.”

There was a click, then a dial tone, then silence.

The national security adviser said, “What do you think?”

“I think this is another opportunity,” a third voice said. “We can pick him up at the point of exchange.” It must have been Clements.

“I’m sorry,” Hort said, “can you tell me how that’s different from your previous plan? The one that cost fourteen lives and put Larison on a hair trigger. Literally, most likely, if we’re talking about his dead-man switch.”

“He got lucky.”

“You
got lucky. Lucky he didn’t just uncork and release those tapes. In case you haven’t noticed, the man is not exactly stable.”