Shoot Him if He Runs (7 page)

“I think that’s pretty obsessive. I didn’t see anything like that aboard his boat, but I guess he has neatness in common with Teddy.”

“He’s not Teddy; he’s an entirely different physical type. And then there’s the hair, of course. I don’t think Teddy could have learned how to grow hair since he left New York.”

“I have to agree,” Stone said.

“Feel like a swim?” she asked, unbuttoning her blouse.

“Oh, yeah,” Stone said, shucking off clothes.

12

L
ance Cabot sat in his borrowed office at Langley, sifting through his notes. The phone rang. “Lance Cabot.”

“Mr. Cabot, this is Eileen, in the director’s office. The director would like to see you.”

“Of course. When?”

“Right now, if you’re available.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Lance closed his notebook, checked his hair in the mirror and slipped into the jacket of his pinstriped suit. He walked swiftly down the hallway, across the building to the director’s office, which was on the same floor, and presented himself to her secretary.

“Go right in, Mr. Cabot,” she said.

“Please, Eileen, it’s Lance.” He flashed her a smile, rapped lightly on the door and opened it.

“Come in, Lance,” Kate Lee said. She rose and walked to a seating area on the other side of her large office and waved him to a chair next to her.

“Good morning, Director.”

“Please, call me Kate, when we’re not in meetings. It makes me more comfortable.”

It made Lance more comfortable, too. He wanted to be on an informal basis with her. There was an office down the hall that he very much wanted to fill. “Thank you, Kate.” Lance liked the idea of working for a woman; he got along very well with women.

“Lance, I believe you’re the best-dressed man at Langley,” she said, smiling.

Lance laughed. “It’s all those years of working out of London.”

“I’m sure if you’re here long enough, you’ll raise the sartorial level among the other gentlemen in the building.”

“I doubt it,” Lance said.

“So do I. Where are we on the Teddy Fay matter?”

“Moving along. Holly and her group are ensconced in St. Marks, and they’ve already made contact with Irene Foster.”

“How did they go about that?”

“It turned out to be quite easy. They’re staying at an inn that has the best restaurant on the island, and Irene came in for dinner. Her companion introduced himself, and Stone invited them for drinks.”

“Her companion?”

“Yes, but it’s not Teddy; it’s someone she knew in Virginia before she retired, a building contractor named Harry Pitts.”

“Tell me why you believe he is not Teddy.”

“A different physical type, and he has hair, which Teddy was short of.”

“Are there any photographs of Teddy when he was younger, when he had more hair?”

“There are no photographs of Teddy at all.”

“Oh, yes, I knew that.”

“Have you checked out this Pitts fellow?”

“Yes, and he’s who he says he is. He was well known in the area for remodeling work—kitchens, that sort of thing. He sold his business last year and took up sailing. He sailed into St. Marks earlier this week and is staying at Irene’s.”

“As long as you’re satisfied.”

“If Teddy is on St. Marks—and I’m inclined to believe he is—then he’s not going to be very visible, and he’s certainly not going to be living at Irene’s house, not this soon. He would not just show up, but go to some lengths to insinuate himself gradually into the landscape.”

“I suppose. What has Holly learned about Irene?”

“That she’s lonely and probably drinks a little too much.”

“She didn’t when she was still here.”

“She’s acquired a reputation for picking up men and taking them home. She didn’t do that here, either.”

“Not that we know of.”

“It’s my assumption that if she did, you’d know it.”

“Well, she went through the usual periodic vetting and polygraph; we didn’t spend a lot of time spying on her. She was a trusted member of the Company for a long time, and she was bloody good at what she did.”

“That means if she was helping Teddy, she was good enough to hide it.”

“Certainly.”

“Holly and her crew are having dinner at her home tonight; perhaps they’ll turn up something new there.”

“I’m impressed,” Kate said.

“Holly’s a very bright girl; what she lacks in formal Agency training, she makes up for in her personal experience in her military and police careers, and her ingenuity.”

“You think she’ll make station chief someday?”

“She’s smart enough; I think it will depend on whether that’s what she wants. She seems happiest in the field right now.”

“What about you, Lance? Do you think you’d make a good deputy director for operations?”

Lance hadn’t expected that, but he didn’t hesitate. “I believe I would, Kate.”

“Certainly, everything in your career points to that; you’ve done very well.”

“Thank you, Kate.”

“There’s an attitude among the older hands here that makes them suspicious of younger men who seem to want things a little too much. It’s almost British; the Brits don’t like naked ambition.”

“I’ve tried to keep my ambition very well clothed,” Lance replied.

Kate laughed aloud. “Yes, well, there is that.” She rearranged herself in her chair. “During the next four years—assuming my husband is reelected—I want to replace retiring senior people with very high quality younger people who will set the tone at the Agency for years, perhaps decades to come.”

“I’ve no doubt that he will be reelected, and I think there’s ample talent here for you to do that.”

“I must tell you that Dick Stone’s murder knocked a big hole in my plans. I thought he had it in him to be the best DDO in the history of the Agency, and that, after some time had passed, he might replace me when I go.”

“I’m in complete agreement on Dick’s brilliance; I worked for him for seven years, and I saw it at first hand. I learned a lot from him.”

“I believe you did, Lance, and that’s one of the main reasons you’re under consideration for the job he never had a chance to fill.”

“Thank you, Kate.”

“I know it’s difficult working for Hugh English, but he was kind enough to postpone his retirement and keep doing the job until our vetting procedure is complete. Be nice to him, won’t you?”

Lance had always found Hugh English grating, but he had been smart enough to keep it to himself and not join in the chorus of complaints from the other, younger men in his former station. “Of course; he’s a good man.”

“Lance, are you going to leave in a huff if you don’t get the job? Go out and make some money as a consultant for the networks and the oil companies?”

Lance was considering doing just that, if he didn’t get the job. He took a deep breath. “No,” he said. “I’m a career officer; I’m here for the long haul.”

“Good,” Kate said, getting to her feet. “Thank you, Lance; keep me posted on progress in St. Marks.”

“Certainly, Kate,” Lance said. He returned to his office more slowly than he had come. Could Lee really be considering him, or was that just a ruse to keep him pumped on the business in St. Marks?

The balance could tip either way, he thought. He’d have to do something to get a thumb on the scale.

13

T
eddy Fay’s cell phone vibrated against his ribcage. “Yes?”

“Mr. Elliot?”

“Yes.”

“This is Tito, the maintenance manager at Nevis Aero Services.”

“Yes, Tito?”

“We’re just about done with the annual on your airplane. You need a new set of spark plugs—I’d suggest the platinum ones—and your starboard main gear tire is pretty close to needing replacing.”

“The platinum plugs are fine, and go ahead and replace the tire. Do you have a replacement from the same manufacturer of the other two?”

“Yes, sir; they’re Goodyears, and we stock those. Will you be picking up the airplane when we’re done? It should be ready tomorrow.”

“What’s the bill going to come to?”

“A little under three thousand.”

“Charge it to the credit card number I gave you, and leave a copy of the bill on the seat. I’ve rented hangar number four, so put the airplane in there and lock it up. The combination on the lock is 4340.”

“Yes, sir; it’ll be in there by tomorrow night.”

“Thank you, Tito.”

“Let us know if you need anything else.”

“Will do.”

Teddy hung up and continued driving. Less than a minute passed before the phone vibrated again. “Yes?”

“Mr. Martin?”

“Yes?”

“This is Cornwall Shipping Agents; the shipment you told us to expect arrived this morning. It should clear customs by noon tomorrow.”

“Oh, good; what’s the tariff going to be?”

“Around eight hundred dollars.”

“All right; charge it to the credit card number I gave you.”

“Do you want it delivered?”

“How large is it?”

“Two wooden crates, one about eight feet long, the other about five feet. Not all that heavy, though.”

“I’ll pick them up tomorrow afternoon, then. Will they be ready to go?”

“Yes, sir, just back up to our loading dock and tell the man on duty you want shipment number 00028, and make sure he gives you both crates.”

“See you then.” Teddy hung up. This was all coming together very well, he thought. His purchase ostensibly included all the tools he would need, but he was going to have to buy a chain saw.

Right now, though, all Teddy needed was a drink.

14

K
ate Lee was dropped by her driver at the White House entrance, and, led and followed by her Secret Service agents, she took the elevator to the family quarters. The two agents remained at the downstairs elevator door. It was nearly eight o’clock, and she was exhausted.

As she got off the elevator she was grateful for the smells coming from the family kitchen. She flung her coat at a living room chair, dropped her bulging briefcase on the floor beside it, then walked into the kitchen.

“Excuse me,” she said to the man in the apron with his back to her, “who do I have to fuck around here to get a drink?”

Will Lee looked over his shoulder, turned the steaks on the grill of the Viking stove and came toward her. “You’re looking at him,” he said, kissing her and dragging a stool up to the kitchen island for her. He went to the freezer and extracted a full bottle of premade, very dry martinis, poured her one in a crystal glass and dropped in two olives. He handed her the drink. “My new speciality,” he said, picking up his own glass. They raised their glasses, gazed into each other’s eyes and took large sips.

“Mmmmm,” she said, “and what is the secret of this libation? What gives it that interesting
something
?”

“That interesting
something
is that the olives are stuffed with anchovies.”

“But I hate anchovies,” she said.

“That’s why it was a secret.”

“This is the second time you’ve fooled me with anchovies: the first was when you put pureed anchovies into a hollandaise sauce.”

“You’re forgetting the caesar salad dressing,” Will said. “Anchovies are an important ingredient of that. I think that what you are learning here is that you absolutely
love
anchovies.”

“Only when I don’t know I’m eating them,” Kate said.

Will turned the steaks. “How was your day?”

“Like all my days: unrelenting.”

“Anything special?”

“I spoke with Lance Cabot about the business in St. Marks.”

“And?”

“He says things are going swimmingly. Holly Barker has made contact with Irene Foster; in fact, she and the others are having dinner at her house, presumably as we speak.”

“Well, I’m glad they’re all getting along together so swimmingly. Is this going to help find Teddy Fay?”

“Maybe, and we should never speak that name. The Republicans may have bugged our kitchen.”

“I find a little paranoia a good thing in a director of Central Intelligence,” Will said, “but not
that
much paranoia.”

“I’ll try to tamp it down,” Kate said.

Will put the steaks on large plates, added baked potatoes and
haricot verts
and motioned for Kate to follow. He led her into the living room to a table for two in an alcove overlooking the White House grounds, their favorite place for dining alone. He seated her, lit the candles and poured the California cabernet that he had already opened, then sat down. They raised their glasses and dug into their food.

“This is the best steakhouse in the world,” Kate said.

“You certainly know the way to a fellow’s heart,” Will replied.

“Did the new polls come in today?”

“Yes, and we’re looking good. I’ve got at least a twelve-point lead over any one of the three likely Republican challengers.”

“I wish it were more.”

“Who doesn’t? But I’ll take twelve points.”

“That lead could vanish in the blink of an eye if it became known that…what’s-his-name is alive, having escaped two huge federal efforts to capture him, especially since the public has been repeatedly assured that he’s dead.”

“If that happens, I’ll deal with it,” Will said. “It will help that the ranking Republican senator on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence knows the truth.”

“It won’t help if he decides to leak the information to some right-wing talk show host.”

“If he does that, he’ll have to explain why he waited for so long after he found out to tell anybody. I don’t think he would enjoy that; he’s up for reelection too, you know.”

“Thank God for that.”

“I know you don’t like to talk about this, Kate, but suppose Lance’s people find Teddy and capture him? What then?”

“We could build a special prison for him at Guantánamo Bay.”

“He’d break out of it inside a week. What instructions have you given Lance in the matter?”

“I’ve given him no instructions whatever.”

“And is he going to interpret the lack of instructions as a license to do whatever he feels like doing?”