Paramour (21 page)

As they drove back and forth through the city and countryside, black clouds had grown and now the smell of rain filled the air. As the first raindrops started to fall, they were cruising along a winding road in the vicinity of the old Iron Curtain, the dividing line between East and West Germany before reunification. Like most of the rest of Germany it was comprised of fertile, rolling hills and thick forests. For a moment, the horrid thought occurred to him that she might have defected-gone across the border into East Germany but of course there was no East Germany and no more Iron Curtain.

The sound of static came from the radio. "Foxtrot king, this is Blue Light."

Fuller grabbed the microphone. "Go, Blue Light."

"Niner Delta reports they have your brown Mercedes parked at 1532 Erlangen Strasse."

"Have them stand by. Repeat. Stand by."

Fuller executed a U-turn, nearly tipping the car over, and stepped on the gas. They raced through a section of highway shaded by tall birches leaning inward and creating a tunnel-like effect.

"Erlangen Strasse is by the City Haft," Fuller said.

Powers, consumed by the thought that his ability to judge people had failed him, kept his eyes on the road.

Fuller drove recklessly at what must have been about a hundred miles an hour during the short drive into town. Turning sharply near the railroad station, he wound through a mixture of cobblestoned and modern streets. At Erlangen Strasse, he slowed down to look for numbers. A Volkswagen bus with U.S. Military Police markings was parked at the curb behind the brown Mercedes Benz. Fuller stepped on the brakes and Powers grabbed the dashboard to steady himself. "Whoa, Nellie!" Fuller shouted.

Powers and Fuller stepped out of the car. The doors of the Volkswagen bus opened and two tall young MPs in full dress uniform climbed out. There was a violent crack of thunder and it began to rain lightly.

Fuller showed a badge. "Nice going, gentlemen."

As Fuller spoke with the MPs, Powers moved closer to the car. His stomach churning nervously, he touched the hood. It was cold. The windows were rolled up, and there was nothing on either the front or back seats. "I'd like to know what's around here," Powers said, staring at the car.

"Roger that."

As Fuller gave instructions to the military cops, Powers tested the driver's door lock, opened the door, and slid behind the wheel. There was the faint smell of Marilyn's perfume. He checked under the seat and in the glove box. Nothing but rental and insurance forms, maps, and a screwdriver. He compared the odometer reading to the rental form and shoved the form back in the glove box. He stepped out of the car. The trunk was locked. He went back inside the car for the screwdriver, and after a few tries he was able to pop the trunk open.

It was empty.

Feeling castrated, Powers ran his hands through his hair. The rain tickled his face as he looked around and considered the possibilities. If she'd gotten help from someone she wouldn't have picked a residential street lined with windows to transfer to another vehicle. But if she was on the run she might have considered her head start her only advantage and thus thrown caution to the wind.

Fuller walked across the cobblestoned street to join him.

"There's nothing in the car."

"Those are all apartment houses across the street. If you think it'll do any good we can go to the resident registration office and get the name of every occupant of every apartment."

"Wouldn't tell us anything."

The MPs came out of the building adjacent to the Mercedes Benz.

"Sir, that's a commercial building. The first floor is a German
Versicherung.
I
think that means an insurance company. The second floor is the Syrian trade mission."

"What's that?"

"The Syrian trade mission. We knocked on the doors. There's no one at either place. Of course, it's Saturday."

Powers felt his stomach begin to churn. He felt warm.

"Sir? Do you need us for anything else? We're scheduled to go off duty." Powers said no and thanked the MPs.

"No problem, sir," said the taller officer.

"The woman who rented the car. Was she someone you knew?" Fuller said as the MPs climbed into their Volkswagen and drove away.

"Not very well," Powers said after a while. How was he going to be able to explain?

"No use standing here in the rain," Fuller said, moving to his sedan. "Jack-"

Powers turned and walked numbly to the car. Reaching down, he opened the passenger door and climbed in. The rain was machine-gunning the roof and windshield, and he realized he was soaked.

Fuller took out a clean handkerchief and dried his face and the top of his head. "I'll need the woman's name for my report," he said.

"Just write that I asked for assistance under Section Six in finding a female civilian employee of the U.S. Government. Your report should be classified Top Secret with limited distribution."

"Where's the rest of your surveillance team?" he said.

"I'm it."

"Kind of strange."

"What's kind of strange?"

"Following someone from Washington, DC, to Germany alone ... without a surveillance team," he said, smiling wryly.

"I'm not going to bullshit you. We both know a one-man surveillance means the people upstairs want minimum exposure. In fact, they probably won't like the idea of my asking the army for help."

Fuller took out a package of Kools and lifted a cigarette from the pack with his teeth. He flamed the cigarette with a Zippo lighter and lowered the driver's window about an inch for air circulation.

"I can relate to that," he said, emphasizing the
re
in relate. "Damned if you do and damned if you don't."

"In the Secret Service it's called Playing It by Ear."

Fuller nodded. "You ever heard tell of a pffft bird?"

"Can't say I have."

"Rather than flying straight like the other birds, the pffft bird flies in ever-decreasing circles until finally-pffft! It flies right up its own asshole. Same thing can happen during an investigation. Everything seems to be going right; then, all of a sudden, pffft! You're in a world of hurt."

"You've got that one right," Powers said. The rain came down in sheets, swirling back and forth across the road.

****

FOURTEEN

During the flight back to Washington, his mind awash in guilt, anger, and humiliation, Powers neither ate, drank, read, nor watched the movie. Leaning back in the seat with his eyes half closed, he relived the details of every moment he'd been with Marilyn, including the time they'd spent together in bed. Still in this state of self-absorption as the aircraft began its final descent, he'd convinced himself the best thing to do was simply tell Sullivan the truth: Marilyn had convinced him she wasn't a spy, they'd slept together, and she'd given him the slip. But Marilyn was the President's girlfriend....

Airplane wheels shrieked as they touched tarmac at Dulles Airport. The weather was still gray, as if, Powers thought in his state of depression, a storm was covering the earth itself. As the aircraft taxied toward the terminal area, Powers finally decided how he would play it with Sullivan. Because he'd been instructed to surveil Marilyn singlehandedly and thus couldn't be held accountable if she was to slip away, he'd simply tell the truth about everything in Germany-except, of course, that he'd slept with her.

At Secret Service headquarters, Powers felt the tension building as he walked down the long hallway toward Sullivan's office. He stopped in front of the door, took a deep breath, and entered. Lenore Shoequist stopped filing her long red nails and showed him into Sullivan's inner office.

Sullivan, looking drawn and pale as if he hadn't slept, got to his feet. "No calls," he said.

Lenore Shoequist smiled perfunctorily and pulled the door shut.

Powers cleared his throat. "She-"

Sullivan put a finger to his lips and led Powers to the security room. Inside, he flipped on the light and the air-conditioner switches and bolted the door. The room was stuffy and overheated and Powers felt his knees actually shaking.

"She gave me the slip."

"I already know what happened," Sullivan interrupted.

"How ... how did you find out?"

Sullivan turned away from him and worked the combination dial on the safe. Finally, the lock clicked and he pulled open the heavy steel drawer. He took out a green folder marked TOP SECRET and returned to the table. From the folder he removed a document. "Director Patterson called me to CIA headquarters this morning," he said, handing the document to Powers. It looked like a Teletype message. "He gave me this."

The message read as follows:

TOP SECRET-NO FORN

BEGIN MESSAGE

FLASH-USAREUR COMMAND (NATO)

ARMY INTELLIGENCE COLLECTION COMMAND

REPORTS IN AREA FOXTROT ONE US SECRET SERVICE AGENT POWERS ACTING UNDER AUTHORITY OF THE PRESIDENTIAL EXECUTIVE ORDER 1976 REQUESTED ASSISTANCE IN SEARCHING FOR POSSIBLE MISSING CIVILIAN EMPLOYEE US GOVT. (NFI) REPEAT CIVILIAN EMPLOYEE US GOVT. (NFI) SUBJECT'S RENTED VEHICLE FOUND IN DOWNTOWN KASSEL. SECRET SERVICE AGENT POWERS REQUEST LIMITED DISTRIBUTION ON THIS MESSAGE. (NFI)

END MESSAGE

TOP SECRET-NO FORN

Sullivan sat down at the table and took out a pen. "Start at the beginning," he said, turning the page of a yellow legal tablet.

Powers sat across from him. For the next hour or so, he related the events of the surveillance from the time he arrived in Germany until finding Marilyn's car. He included all the pertinent details, estimating times for his observations of Marilyn's actions as he went along. Sullivan took copious notes as he spoke. When he reached the part where Marilyn had first confronted him in the hotel restaurant, he was puzzled when Sullivan didn't flinch.

"The next day I followed her out of the hotel and she confronted me again," Powers said reticently. "She told me she was going to an art show and suggested I accompany her. I figured that under the circumstances, since she was already aware of the surveillance, I might as well."

"I would have probably made the same decision under the circumstances," Sullivan said, making a note.

"That night I accompanied her to a restaurant, a place called the Heilige Geist."

"Did you sit together?"

"Yes."

"What did she talk about at dinner?" Sullivan asked.

"Casual conversation, nothing significant."

"Then what?"

Powers felt his stomach muscles tighten involuntarily. "We stopped for a drink after dinner."

"Where?"

"I think the place was called the Tanz Bar."

"How long did you stay there?"

"We had a couple of drinks."

Sullivan set his pen down. "Then what?"

"We returned to the hotel."

"What happened then?"

"You mean after we arrived at the hotel?"