Mounting Fears (26 page)

“Sir, it’s … I’m sorry, scramble.”

Lance pushed a button. “Scrambled.”

“Sir, it’s Todd Bacon, assistant station chief in Panama City.”

“What is it?”

“I’m in my office. I saw Owen Masters get out of a cab and start across the street. A man on a motorcycle shot him in the head, then made his escape. Owen is dead.”

Lance thought he was going to throw up. “Is Owen’s office secure?” he was finally able to ask.

“Yes, sir. He never arrived for work to open it.”

“Hold on.” Lance turned to his computer and pulled up a secure file. “Write this down: The combination to the lock on Owen’s door is 66759, the combination to his safe is 797461. Did you get that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re acting station chief until somebody can relieve you. Do not, repeat,
not
call the police. They will contact the ambassador’s office and be given Owen’s cover story. You are not to speak to them unless they seek you out, which is unlikely. If they do, stick to the cover story, understand?”

“I understand, sir, but there’s something you ought to know.”

“What’s that?”

“I know the man who shot Owen.”

“What?”

“Owen gave me an assignment to find him, and I found him last night, but I didn’t recognize him, since he was disguised.”

“What is the man’s name?”

“Owen didn’t tell me, he just showed me a photograph and gave me a lecture about how dangerous the man was. I saw him in a hotel bar last night and overheard his conversation with the bartender. He was with a younger woman he introduced as his wife. He said they were from New York and were taking a private tour of the canal tomorrow—today, rather—and I bought it. Do you know who this man is, sir?”

Lance ignored the question. “Did Owen assign anyone else to this operation?”

“No, sir, just me.”

“You are not to tell any of your Agency colleagues or anyone else at the embassy or the Agency of your conversation with Owen or your assignment, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir, if you say so.”

“How long ago did this happen?”

“About one minute before I called you. I want to track down this man and kill him.”

“You are not to do that, Todd. The man is already on the way out of the country, and looking for him would be a waste of time. He’ll be somewhere in South America by lunchtime.”

“But I know what he looks like.”

“You know what his disguise looks like, and he has already changed that.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Hang up, go to the ambassador ’s office, and tell him personally what you saw happen. Tell him your instructions are to stick to Owen’s cover story. Tell him that this incident will be dealt with from Langley and to direct police inquiries to me through the State Department switchboard. Have you got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I want you to go back to work, doing what you would ordinarily be doing. When you get into Owen’s office, I want you to search his desk and file cabinets for any reference to the assignment he gave you. If you find anything referring to it, I want you to scan it and e-mail it to me, then shred any documents and, particularly, the photograph of the man. We already have that.”

“Who is he, sir?”

“Whoever he says he is,” Lance said, then hung up.

Holly looked at Lance expectantly but didn’t ask any questions.

“Teddy Fay has killed Owen Masters in Panama City,” Lance said.

“Oh, shit,” Holly said.

“Yes, exactly,” Lance replied. “Who do we have of station head rank, currently unassigned?”

“You want to promote somebody, or do you want another Owen Masters?”

Lance thought about that for a moment. “Another Owen Masters,” he said.

“There’s Terence Cotten. We pulled him out of Madrid a month ago, and he’s sitting downstairs in a transient office, working his way through a book of
New York Times
crosswords, waiting for his pension.”

“Perfect. Get him up here in half an hour. Right now, I have to go and see the director.”

“Are you going to tell her Teddy’s back?”

“Teddy who?” Lance asked, getting into his jacket.

49

LANCE HAD TO WAIT FOR TEN MINUTES WHILE KATHARINE RULE LEE FINISHED A meeting, which gave him more time to think. Finally, he was told to go in.

“Sit down, Lance. What is it?” the director asked.

“Director, I’ve just had a call from the assistant station chief in Panama City. Owen Masters has been shot in the street by an assassin. He’s dead.”

“Good God!” the director replied. “I knew Owen when he was a top agent.”

“He was, for quite a long time.”

“How long before retirement?”

“Four months, give or take.”

“What’s your theory of this, Lance?”

“I haven’t spoken to the police yet, but I don’t think this is Agency related. Owen wasn’t working on anything that would have gotten him killed.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I am, unless he was working something on his own, and frankly, I think Owen was too tired to go chasing hares. Unless …”

“Unless what?”

“Unless he went off the ranch—trying to make some extra retirement money.”

“Drugs?”

“Possibly. From what I’ve been told, the killing sounded professional. He must have pissed off somebody.”

“Have you talked to his widow?”

“Not yet. I want to let embassy and State Department protocol run its course first. I should be able to speak to her before the day is out.”

“What insurance will Owen have?”

“He’ll have the standard Agency policy, based on his pay grade.”

“What about line-of-duty fatality?”

“If he was really off the ranch, he wouldn’t qualify for that.”

“I’d like Mrs. Masters to have that, if we can manage it.”

“Then I’ll manage it,” Lance said. That was a fairly direct order to cover up any off-ranch activity, he thought.

“Keep me posted,” the director said, then turned to answer her buzzing phone.

LANCE WENT BACK to his office, where Holly was still waiting. She handed him a phone slip. “You had a call from the Panamanian police on your State Department line,” she said.

Lance picked up the phone, then paused and put it down again. He had an idea.

“Okay.”

Lance phoned Capitán López.

“Señor Cabot,” López said, “I believe you may have already been notified of the death of your diplomat, Señor Owen Masters.”

“Yes,” Lance replied. “We’re all deeply shocked. What can you tell me of his death?”

“Señor Cabot, do you have any reason to suspect that Señor Masters might be involved in any … financial activity not related to his work at the embassy?”

“No, do you?”

“The nature of his death suggests other connections.”

Oh, come on, say it! Lance wanted to scream at the man. “What sort of connections are you referring to, Capitán?”

“The means used to end the gentleman’s life are often associated with the drug trade in this country, señor.”

Lance paused meaningfully, then said, “I see.”

“I do not wish you to think I am making any accusations, Señor Cabot,” López said. “I am merely making an observation based on my long experience as a police officer.”

“I understand, Capitán,” Lance replied. “Perhaps you could tell me, privately, what chance you believe you might have to find this killer?”

“Oh, we will make a thorough investigation, señor, you may believe that. But … at the end of it all it is unlikely in the extreme that we will be able to make an arrest, let alone secure a conviction. In cases like this, you see …”

“I quite understand, Capitán, and while we would, of course, be glad to hear that Mr. Masters’s killer had been caught and punished, we are cognizant of the difficulties involved in such a case. I would be grateful if you could forward a copy of your final report to me through the embassy.”

“Of course, señor.”

“I would ask you, in your report, to be aware that his widow will read it and not to include any unsupported supposition that might cause her distress.”

“Of course, Mr. Cabot. You may be assured that I will be discreet.”

Lance thanked the man and hung up, still thinking fast.

“Terrence Cotten will be here shortly,” Holly said.

“Call him and tell him to go back to his crosswords,” Lance said. “There’s no point in sending another man down there for just a few months.” He got on his computer and consulted his classified telephone directory, then made the call.

“Todd Bacon,” the youthful voice said.

“Scramble,” Lance replied.

“Scramble.”

“Todd, it’s Lance Cabot.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve talked with the chief investigator from the Panamanian National Police,” he said, “and I’m afraid we’re in something of a bind, here.”

“How can I help, sir?”

“Let me explain. The chief investigator believes that Owen was involved in some nefarious activity that resulted in his murder.”

“No, sir,” Bacon said. “He wouldn’t have assigned me to find that man, if that were the case.”

“Todd, have you been through Owen’s desk and files yet?”

“I’m in the middle of that now, sir, and I’ll be finished shortly.”

“So far, have you found any written reference to your assignment in his papers or on his computer?”

“Ah, no, sir,” Bacon replied.

He’s beginning to get the picture, Lance thought. “The man Owen assigned you to find is known to the Panamanian National Police,” he said, “though not by name. It is their view, though not officially, of course, that Owen was in business with this fellow and that the deal went south. Owen’s next step would have been to eliminate the man, which may be why he ordered you to find him, but the tables were turned and it was Owen who was killed. It’s possible that, in observing the man last night, you inadvertently did something that tipped him off that Owen was after him. So …”

“God, I hope that’s not the case,” Bacon said, sounding shocked.

“Don’t worry about that, Todd. At least you didn’t become involved in Owen’s extracurricular activities. There’s something else to consider, as well. While Owen had Agency life insurance, there is a much larger payment to be made to his widow, if this were a line-of-duty matter. Since we have no hard evidence that it wasn’t line-of-duty, the director is desirous of Mrs. Masters receiving that payment, as it would make a substantial difference in her standard of living.”

“I believe I understand, sir.”

“Good. This is going to require great discretion from all of us. And since I believe I can count on your discretion, I’ve decided not to send a replacement to fill Owen’s position. Instead, I’m appointing you station chief for Panama and the Canal Zone.”

“Why, thank you, sir,” Bacon responded, obviously stunned.

He would be less stunned after he had thought about it, Lance thought. “I’ll send you another man to fill in, Todd. He’ll probably be right off the farm, so he’ll be green, but I’m sure you can bring him along. Pick another of your personnel to fill your assistant station chief’s job, and let me know whom you’ve chosen.”

“I’ll do that, sir. It will probably be Nesmith, since he’s next senior to me.”

“Fine, I’m sure he’s a good man and a good choice. I’ll be in touch Todd, and my congratulations.” Lance hung up.

Holly was looking at him. “You think that’s going to do it?”

“It fucking well better do it,” Lance replied.

50

KATHARINE RULE LEE LEFT HER OFFICE FOR THE DRIVE HOME A LITTLE AFTER SIX. Normally, she worked on papers and reports during the drive, but she had left all of that on her desk or in her safe. She had something else to think about, and she didn’t want to be distracted, not even by the thought of sixty people en route in the black of the Afghan night to the Pakistani border. Her driver seemed to sense that she was deep in thought and did not wish to be disturbed with chat.

Kate was now able to admit to herself that Teddy Fay was still alive, and she was pretty sure he had killed Owen Masters, but she didn’t know why. Lance Cabot knew, but he wasn’t going to tell her unless she pressed him, and she couldn’t afford to press him. She couldn’t afford, in fact, to know that Teddy Fay was alive.