Code to Zero (2000)

by Ken Follett

  They sat in silence for a while, hushed by regret Luke wondered how long it would take Bern to drive here from Georgetown; then his thoughts reverted to the story Billie had told. 'I don't much like what I'm learning about myself,' he said after a while. 'Did I really lose my two best friends, you and Bern, just by being unforgiving and pig-headed?'

  Billie hesitated, then she laughed. 'Why mince words? Yes, that's exactly what you did.'

  'And so you married Bern.'

  She laughed again. 'You can be so egocentric!' she said amiably. 'I didn't marry Bern because you left me. I married him because he's one of the best men in the world. He's smart, he's kind, and he's good in bed. It took me years to get over you, but when I did, I fell in love with Bern.'

  'And you and I became friends again?'

  'Slowly. We always loved you, all of us, even if you could be a stiff-necked son of a gun. I wrote to you when tarry was born, and you came to see me. Then, the following year, Anthony had a huge party on his thirtieth birthday and you showed up. You were back at Harvard, getting your doctorate, and the rest of us were in Washington - Anthony and Elspeth and Peg working for the CIA, me doing research at George Washington University, and Bern writing scripts for radio - but you came to town a couple of times a year, and we would get together.'

  'When did I marry Elspeth?'

  'Nineteen fifty-four - the year I divorced Bern.'

  'Do you know why I married her?'

  She hesitated. The answer should have been easy, Luke thought. She should have said: 'Because you loved her - of course!' But she did not. 'I'm the wrong person to answer that question,' she said at last 'I'll ask Elspeth.'

  'I wish you would.'.

  He looked at her. There was an edge to that last remark. Luke was figuring out how to tease out her meaning when a white Lincoln Continental pulled up outside, and Bern jumped out and came into the diner. Luke said: 'I'm sorry we woke you.'

  'Forget it,' Bern said. 'Billie does not subscribe to the belief that when a man is asleep you should leave him be. If she's awake, everyone should be awake. You'd know that, if you hadn't lost your memory. Here.' He tossed a thick booklet on to the table. The cover said: OFFICIAL AIRLINE GUIDE - PUBLISHED MONTHLY. Luke picked it up.

  Billie said: 'Look for Capital Airlines - they fly to the south.'

  Luke found the right pages. 'There's a plane that leaves at six fifty-five - that's only four hours from now.' He looked more closely. 'But, shit, it stops at every small town in Dixie, and gets to Huntsville at two twenty-three this afternoon, local time.'

  Bern put on a pair of spectacles and read over his shoulder. 'The next plane doesn't leave until nine o'clock, but it has fewer stops, and it's a Viscount, so it gets you to Huntsville earlier, a few minutes before noon.'

  'I'd get the later plane, but I don't relish hanging around Washington any longer than I have to,' Luke said.

  Bern said: You have two more problems. Number one, I think Anthony will have men at the airport.'

  Luke frowned. 'Maybe I could leave here by car, and pick up a plane somewhere down the line.' He looked at the timetable. 'The early flight's first stop is a place called Newport News. Where the hell is that?'

  'Near Norfolk, Virginia,' Billie said.

  'It lands there at two minutes past eight Can I get there in time?'

  'It's two hundred miles,' Billie said. 'Say four hours. You can make it with an hour to spare.'

  Bern said: 'More, if you take my car. It has a top speed of a hundred and fifteen.'

  'You'd lend me your car?'

  Bern smiled. 'We've both saved each other's lives. A car is nothing.'

  Luke nodded. 'Thanks.'

  'But you have a second problem,' Bern said.

  'What's that?'

  'I was followed here.'

  .

  3 A. M.

  The fuel tanks contain baffles to prevent sloshing. Without the baffles, the movement of the liquid is so violent that it caused a test missile, Jupiter IB, to disintegrate after 93 seconds of flight.

  Anthony sat at the wheel of his yellow Cadillac a block from the diner. He had parked tight up against the rear of a truck, so that his distinctive automobile was mostly shielded from view, but he could clearly see the diner and the stretch of sidewalk brightened by the light spilling from its windows. It appeared to be a cop hang-out: there were two patrol cars parked outside, along with Billie's red Thunderbird and Bern's white Continental.

  Ackie Horwitz had been stationed outside Bern Rothsten's apartment, with instructions to stay there unless Luke showed up; but, when Bern left in the middle of the night, Ackie had had the good sense to disobey orders and follow on his motorcycle. As soon as Bern arrived at the diner, Ackie had called Q Building and alerted Anthony.

  Now Ackie came out of the diner in his motorcycle leathers, carrying a container of coffee in one hand and a candy bar in the other. He came to Anthony's window. 'Lucas is in there,' he said.

  'I knew it,' Anthony said with malevolent satisfaction.

  'But he's changed his clothes. He has a black coat and a black hat now.'

  'He lost his other hat at the Carl ton.'

  'Rothsten is with him, and the girl.'

  'Who else is in there?'

  'Four cops telling dirty jokes, an insomniac reading the early edition of tomorrow's Washington Post, and the cook.'

  Anthony nodded. He could not do anything to Luke with the cops present 'We wait here until Luke comes out, then we both follow him. This time; we're not going to lose him.'

  'Gotcha.' Ackie went to his motorcycle, behind Anthony's car, and sat in the saddle to drink his coffee.

  Anthony planned ahead. They would catch up with Luke in a quiet street, overpower him, and take him to a CIA safe house in Chinatown. At that point Anthony would get rid of Ackie. Then he would kill Luke.

  He felt coldly determined. He had suffered a moment of emotional weakness at the Carlton earlier, but afterwards he had hardened his heart, resolving not to think about friendship and betrayal until this was all over. He knew he was doing the right thing. He would deal with regrets after he had done his duty.

  The door of the diner opened.

  Billie came out first The bright lights were behind her, so Anthony could not see her face, but he recognized her small figure and the characteristic sway of her walk. Next came a man in a black coat and black hat Luke. They went to the red Thunderbird. The figure in the trench coat bringing up the rear got into the white Lincoln.

  Anthony started his engine.

  The T-bird moved away, followed by the Lincoln. Anthony waited a few seconds, then pulled out Ackie tucked in behind on his motorcycle.

  Billie headed west, and the little convoy followed. Anthony stayed a block and a half behind, but the streets were deserted, so they were sure to notice they were being tailed. Anthony felt fatalistic about it. There was no 'further point in deception: this was ;the showdown.

  They came to 14th Street and stopped for a red light, and Anthony came up behind Bern's Lincoln. When the light turned green, Billie's Thunderbird suddenly shot forward, while the Lincoln remained stationary.

  Cursing, Anthony reversed a few yards, then threw the shift into drive and stamped on the gas pedal. The big car shot forward. He swung around the standing Lincoln and raced after the others.

  Billie zigzagged through the neighbourhood at the back of the White House, shooting red lights, defying No Turn signs, and driving the wrong way on one-way streets. Anthony did the same, desperately trying to stay on her tail, but the Cadillac could not match the T-bird for maneuverability, and she drew away.

  Ackie passed Anthony and stayed right on Billie's tail. However, as she increased her lead over Anthony, he guessed that her game plan was first to shake the Cadillac by twisting and turning, then get on to a freeway and outrun the motorcycle, which could not match the T-bird's top speed of 125. 'Hell,' he said.

  Then luck intervened. Screeching around a corner, Billie ran into
a flood. Water was gushing out of a drain at the kerbside, and the entire width of the road was two or three inches under. She lost control of her car. The tail of the Thunderbird swung around in a wide arc, and the vehicle spun through a half-circle. Ackie veered around her, his bike slipped from under him, and he fell off and rolled in the water, but got up immediately. Anthony jammed on the brakes of the Cadillac and skidded to a halt at the intersection. The Thunderbird came to a halt slewed across the street, with its trunk an inch from a parked car. Anthony pulled across its front, blocking it in. Billie could not getaway.

  Ackie was already at the driver's door of the Thunderbird. Anthony ran to the passenger side. 'Get out of the cart' he yelled. He drew the gun from his inside pocket The door opened, and the figure in the black coat and hat got out Anthony saw immediately that it was not Luke, but Bern.

  He turned and looked back the way they had come. There was no sign of the white Lincoln.

  Rage boiled up inside him. They had switched coats, and Luke had escaped in Bern's car. You fucking idiot!' he screamed at Bern. He felt like shooting him on the spot. 'You don't know what you've done!'

  Bern was infuriatingly calm.

  'Then tell me, Anthony,' he said. 'What have I done?'

  Anthony turned away and stuffed the gun back into his coat.

  'Wait a minute,' Bern said. 'You've got some explaining to do. What you did to Luke is illegal.'

  'I don't have to explain one goddamn thing to you,' Anthony spat.

  'Luke's not a spy.'

  'How would you know a thing like that?'

  'I know.'

  'I don't believe you.'

  , Bern gave him a hard look. 'Sure you do,' he said. 'You know perfectly well that Luke is not, a Soviet agent. So why the hell are you pretending otherwise?'

  'Go to hell,' Anthony said, and he walked away.

  Billie lived in Arlington, a leafy suburb on the Virginia side of the Potomac river. Anthony drove along her street. As he passed her house, he saw on the other side of the road a dark-coloured Chevrolet sedan belonging to the CIA. He turned a corner and parked. Billie would come home in the next couple of hours. She knew where Luke had gone. But she would not tell Anthony. He had lost her trust She would stay loyal to Luke now - unless Anthony put her under extraordinary pressure.

  So that was what he would do.

  Was he crazy? A small voice in his head kept asking if the race was worth the prize. Was there any justification for what he was about to do? He pushed his doubts aside. He had chosen his destiny long ago, and he was not to be deflected from it, not even by Luke.

  He opened the trunk of his car and took out a black leather case, the size of a hardcover book, and a pencil flashlight Then he walked back to the Chevy. He slid into the passenger seat beside Pete and sat looking at the dark windows of Billie's little house. He thought: This will be the worst thing I have ever done.

  He looked at Pete. 'Do you trust me?' he said.

  Pete's disfigured face twisted in an embarrassed grin. 'What kind of question is that? Yes, I trust you.'

  Most of the young agents hero-worshipped Anthony, but Pete had an extra reason for being loyal to him. Anthony had discovered something about Pete that could get him fired - the fact that he had once been arrested for soliciting a prostitute - but he had kept it secret Now, to remind Pete of that he said: 'If I did something that seemed wrong to you, would you still back me up?'

  Pete hesitated, and when he spoke his voice was choked with emotion. 'Let me tell you something.' He looked ahead, through the windscreen, at the lamplit street You've been like a father to me, that's all.'

  'I'm going to do something you won't like. I need you to trust me that it's the right thing to do.'

  I'm telling you - you got it.'

  I'm going in,' Anthony said. 'Honk if anyone arrives.'

  He walked softly up the driveway, circled around the garage and went to the back door. He shone his flashlight through the kitchen window. The familiar table and chairs stood in darkness.

  He had lived a life of deception and betrayal, but this, he thought with a surge of self-loathing, was the lowest he had ever sunk.

  The kitchen door had an old-fashioned two-way lock with a key on the inside. Anthony could have opened it with a pencil. He put the flask in his mouth, then unzipped the leather case and took out an instrument like a dental probe. He slid it into the keyhole, pushing the key out on the far side! It fell on to the mat with no sound. He misted the probe and unlocked the door.

  Silently, he stepped into the darkened house. He knew his way around. He checked the living room first, then Billie's bedroom. Both were empty. Next he looked in on Becky-Ma. She was fast asleep, her hearing aid on the bedside table. Last he went into Larry's room.

  He shone his flash on the sleeping child, feeling sick with guilt. He sat on the edge of the bed and switched on the light. 'Hey, Larry, wake up,' he said. 'Come oil.'

  The boy's eyes opened. After a disoriented moment, he grinned. 'Uncle Anthony!' he said, and he smiled.

  'Time to get up,' Anthony said.

  'What time is it?'

  'It's early.'

  'What are we going to do?'

  'It's a surprise,' Anthony said.

  .

  4.30 A. M.

  Fuel shoots into the combustion chamber of the rocket engine at a speed of about 100 feet per second. Burning begins the instant the fluids meet. The heat of the flame soon evaporates the liquids. Pressure rises to several hundred pounds per square inch, and the temperature soars to 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

  Bern said to Billie: You're in love with Luke, aren't you.'

  They were sitting in her car outside his building. She did not want to go in: she was impatient to get home to Larry and Becky-'In love?' she said evasively. 'Am I?' She was not sure how much she wanted to share with her ex-husband. They were friends, but not intimate.

  'It's okay,' he said. 'I realized long ago that you should have married Luke. I don't think you ever stopped loving him. You loved me, too, but in a different way.'

  That was true. Her love for Bern was a gentle, calm feeling. With him she had never felt the hurricane of passion that engulfed her when she was with Luke. And when she asked herself what she felt for Harold - the easy affection or the whirlwind of excitement - the answer was depressingly obvious. Thinking about Harold gave her a pleasant but mild sense of pleasure. She had little experience of men - the only ones she had slept with were Luke and Bern - but instinct told her that with Harold she would never have the feeling Luke gave her of a sexual craving that left her weak and helpless with desire.

  'Luke's married,' she said. 'To a beautiful woman.' She thought for a moment 'Is Elspeth sexy?'

  Bern frowned. 'Hard to say. She could be, with the right guy. To me she seemed cold, but she never had eyes for anyone but Luke.'

  'Not that it matters. Luke is the faithful type. He'd stay with her if she was an iceberg, just out of a sense of duty.' She paused. 'There's something I have to say to you.'

  'Okay.'

  'Thank you. For not saying 'I told you so.' I sure appreciate your restraint.'

  Bern laughed. You're thinking about our great quarrel.'

  She nodded. 'You said my work would be used to brainwash people. Now your prediction has come true.'

  'All the same, I was wrong. Your work had to be done. We need to understand the human brain. People may use knowledge to do evil, but we can't hold up scientific progress. But, listen, do you have a theory about what Anthony is up to?'

  'Best I could come up with: I imagine Luke discovered a spy down there at Cape Canaveral, and came to Washington to tell the Pentagon about it But the spy is really a double agent, working for us, so Anthony is desperate to protect the guy.'

  Bern shook his head. 'Not good enough. Anthony could have dealt with that simply by telling Luke that the spy was a double. He didn't have to wipe his memory.'

  'I guess you're right and Anthony shot at Luke a few
hours ago. I know this secret agent work tends to go to men's heads, but I can't believe the CIA would actually kill an American citizen to protect a double agent'

  'Sure they would,' Bern said. 'But it wouldn't have been necessary. Anthony could just have trusted Luke.'

  'Do you have a better theory?'

  'No.'

  Billie shrugged. 'I'm not sure it matters any more. Anthony has deceived and betrayed his friends - who cares why? Whatever strange purpose has driven him to this, we've lost him. And he was a good friend.'

  'Life sucks,' Bern said. He kissed her cheek and got out of the car. 'If you hear from Luke tomorrow, call me.'

  'Okay.'

  Bern walked into the building, and Billie drove off.

  She crossed the Memorial Bridge, skirted the National Cemetery, and zigzagged through the suburban streets to her home. She reversed into the driveway, a habit she had developed because she was usually in a hurry when leaving. She entered the house, hung her coat on the hall stand, and went straight upstairs, unbuttoning her dress and pulling it off over her head as she did so. She threw it over a chair, kicked off her shoes, and went to check on Larry.

  When she saw the empty bed, she screamed.

  She looked into the 'bathroom, then Becky-Ma's room. 'Larry!' she yelled at the top of her voice. 'Where are you?' She ran downstairs and went into every room. Still in her underwear, she left the house and looked in the garage and the yard. Going back inside, she went into every room again, opening closets and checking under beds, looking into every space large enough to hold a seven-year-old.

  He had gone.

  Becky-Ma came out of her bedroom, fear written on her lined face. 'What's happening?' she said shakily.

  'Where's Larry?' Billie shouted.

  'In his bed, I thought,' she said, her voice becoming a moan of misery as she realized what had happened.

  Billie stood still for a moment, breathing hard, fighting down panic. Then she went into Larry's bedroom and studied it.

  The room was tidy, with no signs of struggle. Checking his closet, she saw the blue teddy-bear pyjamas he had worn last night neatly folded on a shelf. The clothes she had set out for school today had gone. Whatever had happened, he had got dressed before leaving. It looked as if he had gone with someone he trusted.