The Fourth Horseman (27 page)

“Told by whom?” Rajput asked, the look on his face deadpan.

“A CIA insider whose name I can’t mention, for his own protection. Haaris worked in a section called the Pakistan Desk and came here often.”

“You do work for the CIA,” Rajput said.

“I’m not on the CIA’s payroll,” McGarvey replied calmly.

Haaris again held Rajput off. “I believe that Mr. Parks is telling the truth, so far as it goes. But why,” he turned to McGarvey, “are you here at this moment? What does Mr. Haaris have to do with me?”

“Perhaps nothing, but he went to London several days ago and has disappeared.”

“And you were sent to find him?”

“No, that would be up to the CIA. I was merely told he’d disappeared and it was presumed that he would naturally come here to find out what was going on. I’d like to interview him, and I’d hoped that General Rajput might lead me to him.”

“What do you think I can do to help you find him?” Haaris asked.

“Nothing, sir. But you’re news, so I figured that I could kill two birds with one stone—find a clue to Haaris’s whereabouts and interview you.”

“I think that you are a liar,” Haaris said. “This interview is at an end. It’s time that you leave Pakistan while you still can.”

McGarvey got to his feet. “Thank you, gentlemen, I believe that I got most of what I came for.”

The side door opened and two armed men dressed in the uniforms of the Secretariat Security Service, their pistols drawn, came in.

“You’re under arrest, Dr. Parks,” Rajput said.

“On what charge?”

“Espionage.”

FORTY-NINE

The gruff flight sergeant gently touched Pete’s shoulder and she came awake instantly. His name was Bert Cauley and he’d been the attendant for her and the other two passengers who were last-minute additions to the staff at the British embassy. On the flight over they’d mostly stayed to themselves. They’d been told that she was CIA.

“We’re forty minutes out, ma’am,” Cauley said. “You have a call, but you might want to come forward to take it. You’ll have a little more privacy.”

Pete went forward to the Citation’s tiny galley just aft of the cockpit, where Cauley took the phone from its hook on the bulkhead, pressed one of the buttons and handed it to her.

“It’s a secure circuit,” Cauley said, and he went aft.

The copilot reached back and closed the cockpit door.

“Yes?” Pete said. She was afraid that it was trouble. She looked at her watch which she had set to Pakistan time just after they’d lifted off. It was a few minutes before midnight.

“Mac is missing,” Otto said.

Something clutched at her heart, and she closed her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“The battery was removed from his phone six hours ago, but he’s done it before to avoid detection if he got into a bad spot. But it’s worse than that. I didn’t want bother you before, but now it looks like you could be walking into a tornado.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s Ross Austin. He told Rajput that Mac—as Travis Parks—is a CIA analyst sent out to find the Messiah’s identity and the man’s agenda.”

“Goddamnit to hell, Otto. Why? What the bleeding Christ is wrong with the bastard?”

“He’s friends with Susan Kalley, the president’s national security adviser. Apparently she sidestepped Page and contacted Austin directly. Told him that the president had called off the deal with McGarvey and they wanted him out of there immediately.”

“Page could have talked to him.”

“It wouldn’t have done any good, and you know it,” Otto said. “Austin told Rajput that military aid was on the line and that the CIA wanted Mac arrested and turned over to him personally for immediate deportation back to the States.”

Pete felt a glimmer of hope. “Maybe that’d be for the best after all.”

“There’s more,” Otto said, and he sounded worried. “Mac went to the Secretariat and bullied his way into Rajput’s office as Haaris and a TTP rep were marching up Constitution Avenue. He wanted to interview not only the PM but the Messiah as well.”

“If Haaris was told that Mac was a CIA analyst it’s more than possible he’d know that was a lie. The son of a bitch knows just about everyone on Campus. And he’d have to think that Mac was there to spy on him and maybe even assassinate him.”

“Louise and I came to the same conclusion. Page knows everything and he has a three o’clock with the president; that’s about an hour from how. He has a fair idea that calling off Mac was Kalley’s idea and not Miller’s.”

“Maybe. But I’ll be on the ground before then. A couple of British embassy staff are on board with me, and they’ve agreed to drop me off at our embassy on the way over to theirs.”

“Mac wanted me to give Austin the heads up that you were on the way,” Otto said.

“Not until I’m practically at the front gate. I don’t want him to call his pal Rajput and out me too.”

“Walk with care, Pete. He’s just doing his job the best way he knows how, and among other things that’s protecting U.S. interests over there. He has a big staff, a lot of them in the field at any given time, and he owes them his muscle. By all accounts he’s doing a good job.”

“He’s one of Marty’s fair-haired boys, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and rightly so, but they are not, I repeat, they are not cut of the same cloth. Not by a long shot.”

“We’ll see,” Pete said, sick at heart. “Call Powers as well. I’ll want to talk to him. One way or another I’m going to do my damnedest to save Mac’s life.”

“Good hunting,” Otto said.

*   *   *

After landing they taxied over to the VIP arrivals area of the airport, where a driver and a security officer from the British embassy were waiting with a Range Rover. A Pakistani customs official met Pete and the two Brits and stamped their diplomatic passports, not raising an eyebrow that an American woman was included.

Pete had put on a scarf to cover her hair, but the custom’s officer was indifferent; he didn’t even bother to check her face against the photo in her passport.

At this time of night the airport was all but closed down and the highway into Islamabad was nearly deserted. She’d watched the replays of the satellite images from last week when this same stretch of road was a battleground: Taliban fighters seemed to be everywhere, and dozens of cars and small trucks were on fire along both sides of the highway, a few blocking the road. There had even been bodies lying in a two-hundred-meter stretch.

Now it was quiet, the city to the west, and the Himalayan foothills beyond, sprinkled with streetlights. This was a nation finally at peace, and she almost felt like a night stalker come to do evil, something to do to break the peace, yet she knew two things: Dave Haaris did not want the peace to last and he was here to change everything, and that Mac was here, and that she loved him and that she would do everything within her power to help him even if it meant giving her own life.

Pete turned to the Brit seated next to her. “So what’s your take on this Messiah?” she asked. She wanted some feedback, but mostly she wanted to be distracted for just a little while before she met with Austin or she didn’t know what she might do.

He was young, probably not in his thirties, and he seemed a little flustered. “I don’t really know, ma’am.”

“I won’t bite, and anyway, we’re allies.”

“On the outside looking in, he seems legitimate,” the other, much older Brit sitting behind her said. “But nobody in my shop trusts him.”

“Why’s that?” Pete asked.

“It’s all too pat. He shows up out of the blue, lops off the head of Barazani and then supposedly goes on a walkabout with his people. Rubbish, if you ask me. The bastard is up to something, and I don’t think it’ll be good for any of us in the West.”

“Neither do I,” Pete said, turning inward again. Getting Mac out of the Pakistanis’ custody would take the help of Austin as well as Powers, but it was afterward that worried her most. Mac wasn’t going to give up. It was one of his traits she loved most and yet feared the most.

*   *   *

They came into the city’s diplomatic enclave and to the American embassy, where their credentials were checked by a pair of marine sentries before they were allowed to drive up to the portico at the main entrance. They were met by another security officer, this one in civilian clothes, who opened the rear door for Pete.

“Thanks for the lift, gentlemen,” she said, getting out.

The officer closed the door for her and the Range Rover headed back to Post One.

“Miss Day, if you’ll follow me, ma’am, Mr. Austin is expecting you.”

Pete stopped just at the entrance to the two-story building and looked back the way she had come. “It’s quiet here,” she said. Now that she was close she tried to reach out to Mac, but she couldn’t feel him, and it disturbed her more than she wanted to admit.

“Yes, ma’am, now. But it was busy this afternoon.”

“Did you guys have any trouble here?”

“Not here, but just about everywhere else. And I guess that was the spooky part, no crowds on our doorstep. We’re not used to it.”

“I hear you,” Pete said. “But I don’t think it’ll last.”

FIFTY

Walt Page’s Cadillac limousine glided to a stop at the White House East Gate, where the guard, recognizing him, waved it through. Driving into the city from Langley he’d had a lot of time for thought, and nothing he had learned in the past twenty-four hours was of any comfort.

The president had sent Mac to Pakistan but with deniability. If he got into trouble he would be cut loose. The White House simply could not afford to take a hit over the issues in Pakistan. Miller had already gone out on a limb sending her NEST people in to neutralize a fair portion of Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal, and so far there’d been absolutely no reaction.

But anything else, even the smallest of incidents, could push Islamabad into some reaction, if for nothing else than to appease its people.

And with the Messiah in the mix, actually bringing at least a temporary peace, it was as if the sword of Damocles hung over all of them. Without a doubt it was why the president’s national security adviser had ordered Ross Austin to out McGarvey. Ross understood the president’s thinking, but she’d been wrong, and he meant to convince her of just that.

A marine was at the door, and just inside a Secret Service agent was waiting for him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Page. The president will be delayed for just a few minutes, and Miss Kalley asked if she might have a few words with you first.”

The woman wanted a chance to explain herself, and Page was more than willing to hear her out. “I know the way,” he said.

Kalley’s first-floor office was in the corner of the West Wing directly opposite the Oval Office. Josh Banks, her deputy NSA, whose office was next door to hers, looked up as Page passed. He had a long, hound dog face and he couldn’t conceal the fact that he was guilty of something, but he didn’t rise nor did he say anything.

The president’s NSA looked up and smiled pleasantly when Page came around the corner. “Good afternoon, Mr. Director, it should only be a minute or so,” she said. “Anyway, I wanted to have a word with you first.”

He closed the door and sat down. “Did the president authorize you to call Ross Austin?”

“Directly to the point, as usual. No, she did not. But if a president had to make decisions on every single issue, our government would grind to a halt. It was my choice, considering the situation.”

“Outing an intelligence agent in the field is a capital crime,” Page said, holding his temper in check. He’d not had many dealings with Kalley, but in the ones he’d had she seemed a bright, decisive woman, though somewhat egocentric.

“Mr. McGarvey is not on the CIA’s payroll.”

“You’re right, he refuses to take a paycheck. Nevertheless, he works for me, and in this instance under the president’s orders, something I mean to bring up.”

“There’d be no profit in crossing me, Page. It’d be much easier if we could find a common ground so that we could work together for the good of the country.”

“Nor would there be any profit in crossing Kirk McGarvey.”

Kalley nearly came across her desk at him. “Don’t threaten me, you son of a bitch.”

“Don’t interfere in an ongoing operation,” Page said, keeping his tone completely neutral, which was driving the NSA up the wall.

“The situation out there is critical. The ISI has had absolutely no reaction to our incursion, nor has it allowed any news to leak to their media. Were you aware that they pulled Geo off the air again just two hours ago?” Geo was Pakistan’s leading news channel.

“Yes, because they were getting too critical of the Messiah. They want to know who he is and where he came from.”

“He’s brought peace for the moment. Something no one else has been able to do.”

“Don’t be so goddamned ivory-tower naive. He has a schedule, and it’s set for less than two days from now.”

“No reason to think it’s not benign.”

“The man chopped off President Barazani’s head.”

Kalley was silent for a long beat as she composed herself. “Is that what you’ve come here to tell the president?”

“There’s more,” Page said.

“Tell me.”

“And the president,” Page said. “She’s expecting me.”

*   *   *

President Miller was working at her desk, her suit jacket off. She looked up when her secretary brought them in, but she wasn’t smiling.

“I thought you would have come sooner,” she said.

“There’ve been a number of developments,” Page said.

Miller glanced at Kalley. “You two have spoken,” she said. “Under the circumstances I had no other choice but to withdraw Mr. McGarvey from the assignment.”

“Having the ISI arrest him was the wrong choice for several reasons, Madam President.”

“The only choice,” Miller shot back, her anger rising.

“Something’s going to happen in less than two days’ time. We don’t know what it is, but it will possibly be a strike against the U.S. or our interests. Revenge for not only our incursion into Pakistan to assassinate bin Laden but for our strikes against their nuclear arsenal.”