The Cabal (37 page)

Two minutes later another man, husky, but with a darker complexion than the first man, his hair dark brown, emerged from Customs.
He carried only a small nylon bag and he was dressed like a contractor, which was the only reason Mustapha spotted him.

“It’s him, the guy in the bush jacket just coming out.”

Kangas saw the resemblance at once. The clever bastard had changed his disguise and papers. He made sure that he had Boberg’s attention and he nodded toward McGarvey.

Boberg did a double take, and when he looked back Kangas nodded again, and he and Mustapha headed back to short-term parking as quickly as they could without attracting any attention.

At the curb outside the main terminal building Louise pulled up in her Toyota SUV, and McGarvey walked across to her, but before he opened the passenger-side door he glanced at the reflections in the car window in time to spot a dark, slightly built man in a tan jacket suddenly pull up short and turn away.

He wasn’t surprised that the Bureau had shown up, he and Otto had expected it, nor was he surprised that he’d picked up a tail. A local Admin hand, no doubt. But the fact that all three of them, and whoever else would be coming after him, knew the flight he was coming in on had to mean there was a leak at the CIA. Someone senior in Operations, or possibly even someone on the seventh floor.

Most likely the Friday Club had people imbedded in the Company, probably the FBI, and almost certainly in Congress and the White House. Something serious was happening in Washington, or was about to happen. Maybe it wasn’t as fanciful as what was on the disk that Givens had supposedly handed over to Todd, but it was big enough to
maneuver a charge of treason against a former CIA director, and then send someone gunning for him.

He got in on the passenger side. “Where’s Otto?”

Louise glanced in her rearview mirror, pulled out, and headed away. “At home trying to figure out how much damage your escapade in Baghdad did to your case.” She glanced at him. “Are you okay? We were worried.”

“They knew I was coming and they had a couple of guys waiting for me just outside my hotel,” McGarvey said. “Slow down.”

“What?” Louise asked, not quite sure that she’d heard right.

“Slow down, but don’t make it too obvious. I think we’re going to have some company.”

She glanced in the rearview mirror, but slowed down by a few miles an hour. Otto had complained that Louise was a manic driver with a lead foot. She couldn’t stand to be passed. Slowing down meant that she was now going the same speed as just about everyone else.

“Did you bring me a weapon?”

“In the glove compartment,” Louise said, glancing in the rearview mirror again. “I’m a photo interpreter and image analyst, how am I supposed to know someone is following us?”

“I’ll take care of that part,” McGarvey said. He pulled a Wilson 9mm Tactical from the glove compartment, along with a suppressor, and three extra magazines of ammunition. The pistol was loaded and ready to fire.

“It could be anybody,” Louise said.

“Just drive.”

“Where?” she asked, alarmed.

“Soon as we pick up our tail, I want you to speed up and head back to Georgetown, to Rock Creek Park.” He used the control button on the center console to turn the door mirror on his side to a position that would enable him to watch the road behind them. “At some point I’ll have you slow down so that I can hop out and then you can take off. Drive around until I call for you to come back and pick me up. It’ll be safe by then.”

She was clearly upset now. “Otto says they’ve branded you a homicidal maniac because of Baghdad. Did you kill an Iraqi police captain?”

“No.”

“Well, somebody at the State Department got a report from its people on the ground over there, that’s exactly what you did.”

“Any witnesses?”

Louise opened her mouth to say something, but then she shook her head. “If there were, Otto couldn’t find any mention.”

“I took Sandberger and three of his people down. Any witnesses who can place me at the Ritz?”

She shook her head again. “But State knows that you were there and the shootings couldn’t have been coincidental.”

“The Bureau had two agents waiting for me.”

“Otto told me about switching identities. A State Department FSO. They’re not going to be very happy.”

“No, but the other guy waiting for me also knew what flight I was coming in on,” McGarvey said.

“A leak?” Louise asked. “Otto was worried about it.”

“Was he expecting it?”

She nodded glumly. “Can you tell me what’s going on? Who the hell are these guys and what do they want? They have to be more than lobbyists.”

“Sixty-four-dollar question,” McGarvey said, watching the mirror. A dark blue Taurus had pulled up from way behind as if the driver had been in a big hurry, but then had slowed down, keeping up a position three cars back. “Switch lanes right now and speed up,” he told Louise.

She glanced in her rearview mirror and suddenly pulled into the next lane left and hit the gas. The big Toyota surged forward, and a hundred yards later she had to move left again to pass a cab.

The driver of the Taurus managed to keep up, while maintaining his position three cars back. McGarvey could make out two figures in the front seat, but they were too far away for him to make any sort of identification. But he knew damned well they were Admin muscle.

“They’re back there, in the dark blue Ford,” he said. “You can drive normal now.”

“You’re going to kill them,” Louise said, glancing nervously at him again.

“Not unless I have to,” McGarvey said. “I need answers not bodies.” He’d seen enough bodies lately to last three lifetimes. And yet it wasn’t over, and possibly would never be over. Plato had said that only the dead had seen the end of war. Maybe his turn was coming.

Traffic on the Airport Access Road all the way down to where it crossed beneath the Beltway and finally the off ramp to I-66 was busy as usual, but the blue Taurus managed to keep up even though Louise drove erratically, always searching for the fastest lane.

At one point she glanced nervously in the rearview mirror. “They’re still back there.”

“Otto was right, you drive too fast.”

“Makes him crazy,” she said smiling. “Should I slow down?”

“No, you’re doing just fine. Those guys probably think you’re trying to shake them, which is what I want them to think.”

She took the ramp to the Key Bridge, and as they crossed the river directly into Georgetown, McGarvey pocketed the three spare magazines of ammunition and screwed the silencer on the end of the Wilson’s barrel.

Louise was glancing at him, clearly frightened now. “I don’t know if I can lose them long enough for you to get out.”

“I want them to see you dropping me off,” McGarvey said. “That’s the whole point.”

“They’d be stupid to try to come after you. Why not grab me?”

“They’re Admin shooters and they want to take me out,” McGarvey said. It was the next step after Baghdad. He’d definitely got their attention, and now they were going to make the next series of mistakes that would lead him directly to the Friday Club. He just had to stay alive and out of custody until he could find out what was going on. What had been going on since the operations involving Chinese intelligence in Mexico City and Pyongyang. Those had been difficult and
very expensive operations, neither of which had produced any visible results, other than having him branded as a traitor.

It made no sense. And situations that made no sense bothered McGarvey to no end.

Across the river, Louise turned east on M Street NW until the off ramp into Rock Creek Park, just at the beginning of Pennsylvania Avenue. Suddenly they were on the winding road that led north nearly two miles all the way up to Connecticut Avenue, crossing and recrossing the creek twice as it meandered through the sometimes densely forested park.

This morning traffic on the road was light, and only a few joggers and bicyclists were out and about, and none of the benches or picnic areas was occupied. On the weekends the park was always busy, but on weekdays most people were either at work by now or on the way.

Which was perfect as far as McGarvey was concerned, because he definitely did not want any collateral damage if shots were fired.

“Where do you want this to happen?” Louise demanded, her voice shrill now.

They had already reached the first bridge across the creek and for the next stretch the park area was very narrow, not enough room to maneuver.

“We’re going to cross under Massachusetts Avenue. A little past that there’s another bridge. I’ll get out there.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louise said, her hands tight on the steering wheel.

Two minutes later they crossed under Massachusetts Avenue and almost immediately the second bridge was just ahead.

“Now,” McGarvey said.

Louise jammed on the brakes and McGarvey popped open the door and jumped out even before the Toyota came to a full stop.

“Go,” he shouted over his shoulder, and darted off the road about ten yards into the woods, where he stopped and looked back.

Louise was gone, and the blue Taurus had pulled over to the side of the road and two men were getting out. The same two from outside his hotel at Baghdad. It was perfect.

Kangas and Mustapha stood at the edge of the road looking down the hill into the denser woods. The rising sun was in their eyes, but they knew that McGarvey had to be somewhere close, they’d seen him jumping out of the Toyota.

“There,” Mustapha said suddenly, and Kangas looked where his partner was pointing in time to see McGarvey disappearing farther down the hill.

“That’s the bastard,” Kangas said.

“Whoever the broad was probably brought him a weapon,” Mustapha said. “Could be a trap. He jumps out, and like complete idiots we run after him.”

“That’s exactly what this is. But we’d be bigger idiots to turn down three mil each.”

“Won’t do us any good if we’re dead. I say we turn around and get the fuck out of here right now. You know what this guy is capable of.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know us, now, does he,” Kangas said. “And I’m not ready to walk away from a pile of money.”

“You’d do it even if there was no money at stake,” Mustapha said, and Kangas grinned.

“Payback time for Baghdad.”

“Sandberger . . .”

“Fuck Sandberger, this is for us,” Kangas said. “Go left, I’ll go right. We’ll catch him in our cross fire.”

Mustapha nodded. “Careful what you shoot at.”

Kangas took the silencer out of his pocket and screwed it onto the end of his Beretta, and headed down the hill into the woods, slightly
to the right of where they’d last seen McGarvey, at the same time Mustapha headed at an angle the other way.

Back at the airport they had just reached their car when Boberg called and described the Toyota SUV that had come for McGarvey. “Some woman driving, but she’s not on any of our lists. I checked.”

“Anyone else with her?” Kangas had asked as Mustapha headed down the spiral ramp to one of the cashier gates at the bottom.

“Not unless they were hiding in the backseat.”

“Did he spot you tailing him?”