Safe Houses

by Dan Fesperman

  The smile seemed on the verge of collapsing, and she drew away a hand to dab at her eyes.

  “Yes. And now it’s only me, I’m afraid.” She walked behind her desk. Henry saw a handheld radio on the corner, presumably for summoning any of her people at a moment’s notice. She gestured for them to be seated on a couch to their left, and then rolled her office chair around to the same side of the desk to face them.

  “And this is Henry Mattick, the one who’s been helping me.”

  “Yes,” Audra replied. “I know all about Henry and his help.”

  Odd phrasing, he thought. A little ominous. He wondered if she would ask him to leave. But she didn’t object when he took a seat next to Anna.

  “Well, then,” she said. “Let’s see what we can do about righting these wrongs that have taken away my two dearest colleagues. And also your father, dear girl.”

  “Where should we begin?” Anna sounded breathless, and who could blame her? Finally she was in touch with her mother’s past, not just through a letter or a tape recording, but in the flesh.

  “I thought I would leave that up to you. I’m assuming that you have lots of questions, and while in some cases I won’t be allowed to answer them, I’m happy to tell you what I’m able.” Another odd statement, Henry thought. Would Audra really withhold information from Helen’s daughter simply because it was still officially classified? But Anna seemed unfazed.

  “What was my mom’s job in Berlin? Her duties?”

  “She was a keeper of safe houses. Four of them. It was a desk job, when what she really wanted was to be in the field. I’d had the same ambitions once, so I understood her frustration.”

  “How did she end up making the tapes?”

  “On both occasions she just happened to be testing the equipment when the others arrived, unannounced. Or so she explained it to Claire and me. Quite extraordinary, really.”

  “The woman, Frieda, who was raped. Was she Anneliese Kurz?”

  “You’ve done your homework. Yes, it was Anneliese, whose murder is still officially unsolved. Have you seen the name of the only eyewitness on the original police report?”

  “No.”

  “Kurt Delacroix.” Anna’s mouth fell open. “Yes. His association with Kevin Gilley goes back quite a ways.”

  “They manipulated my brother, with drugs and God knows what kind of lies. We have proof of it now.”

  “I suspected as much the moment I heard what had happened. It’s how Gilley has always operated—by careful use of the orchestrated accident, or the unwitting surrogate. He fancies himself an artist in that way.”

  “An artist?”

  “Yes. An old hand in Athens once overheard him compare his work to that of a pointillist painter. Thousands of dots upon a canvas of his own choosing, each carefully rendered to form an illusion of suicide, or some other act of misfortune. Anything less elaborate would have wounded his vanity. That’s probably what has saved your lives up to now. The case of Anneliese Kurz taught him that. Act hastily and someone will be tracking your scent right away, just as your mother tracked his. You’re so much like her, you know. In your tenacity above all. Good work.”

  “But do you think it will actually do any good?”

  “That will depend in large part on the materials you’ve brought me.”

  Anna turned to Henry, who zipped open his bag and withdrew the padded envelope. He handed it to Audra, who accepted it without looking him in the eye.

  First she pulled out the two reports detailing Gilley’s rapes in Paris and Marseille. She then removed the smaller envelopes and read the dated labels from the Alt-Moabit safe house in Berlin. She smiled, looking immensely pleased, and turned back toward Anna.

  “Am I to gather you’ve listened to these tapes? To both of them?”

  There was a hint of steel in her words, and for the first time Henry detected a flicker of uncertainty in Anna’s eyes. She paused, so Henry rushed into the breach.

  “We wanted to, but we didn’t have the right equipment.”

  “Yes,” Anna played along. “We were hoping you’d have a way for us to hear them.”

  Audra held her gaze.

  “You’re having doubts about me, aren’t you.” A statement, not a question. “Because of him, I’m guessing.” She nodded toward Henry.

  “Not doubts, really.” Anna smiled nervously. “That’s Henry’s department.”

  “Henry’s actions have gone well beyond the realm of doubt, dear girl. The word for him would be duplicity. But you weren’t trained to notice these things the way your mother and I were, so you can be forgiven for taking a serpent to your breast.”

  “Serpent? If you’re talking about the work he did before my parents were killed, he’s already come clean about that.”

  “Has he, now? And did he also tell you about Mitch, the fellow in Washington who he continues to report to, day after day?”

  Anna turned toward Henry, confusion giving way to dismay.

  “Is that true?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Predictable that he’d say that,” Audra said. “Just as predictably, I’m guessing that he has already tried to poison you against me. For his own purposes, of course.”

  “She’s only telling you half the story,” Henry said.

  “Half of what story?” Anna’s voice rose. “Who are you still working for, and why?”

  “We should go,” Henry said. “She’s lying for her own damn reasons, and we should leave while we can.”

  He stood, already glancing toward the door where he’d last seen the goon Lloyd lurking. Audra picked up the handheld radio and pressed a button.

  “Lloyd? It’s time.”

  “So you’re not denying it, then?” Anna said to Henry.

  “How do you think she knows all this?” Audra’s words and actions had made several things clear to him, and none of them boded well for their survival. “And who do you think this guy Mitch really works for? He works for Audra. That’s how she knows I’ve been calling him.”

  “So she’s right, then. You’ve been lying.”

  “To protect you, which is what I’m trying to do now. We need to leave!”

  He grabbed her arm. She shook him off. Lloyd appeared in the doorway, holding the gun in his right hand.

  “The boats are coming,” he shouted. “What should we do, ma’am?”

  “Patience, Lloyd. Let it play out as planned.”

  Lloyd nodded and disappeared.

  “What boats?” Anna said. “What’s happening?”

  Henry heard them now, engines buzzing across the water, moving closer to the island. The fruits of his nocturnal labors were paying off.

  “Your friend Henry would tell you that it’s a rescue party. The one he arranged for last night over the phone at the motel. I warned you to not use the Wi-Fi, but of course he ignored that. Not that we wouldn’t have picked up the signal from our van. So you see, Henry? We were prepared. Come with me, then, both of you. We’ll deal with Henry first. Then you and I, Anna, shall have a long chat.”

  “Then she’ll kill you, too,” Henry said. “She certainly can’t afford to let you leave. Not now.”

  Anna, whose confusion gave way to a look of horror, shook her head.

  “There’s no need to kill him! Not on my account.”

  “It will be entirely on my account, I assure you.” She pressed the button on the radio. “I need you back in here now, Lloyd.”

  Henry edged toward the door, wondering when the goon would return. He was about to make a run for it when someone else appeared in the doorway—a woman, trim build, late middle age, hair cut short, with black tights dripping water onto the floor. She held a gun that looked a lot like Lloyd’s, and pointed it at Audra.

  “Hello, Audra. Put down the radi
o and step away from your desk.”

  Audra’s reply was almost a croak.

  “Claire? But…”

  “Do it now, please. I don’t want to shoot you, but you know I will. Now!”

  Audra dropped the radio with a clatter and robotically stepped forward.

  “Never fuck with a field operative, Audra. That’s something you pencil pushers always forget. Your gorilla is handcuffed and out cold, by the way. Worst-trained muscle I’ve ever seen.” She turned toward Anna. “Hello. I’m Claire Saylor. Your mother asked me to look after you, so as soon as we’re finished here you can come with me.”

  “What about him?” Anna nodded toward Henry.

  “Oh, he’s one of the white hats, although he probably didn’t know for certain until a moment ago. ‘Need to know’ is a brutal rule to live by. Am I right, Mr. Mattick?”

  “Yes,” he said, thinking fast. “The abduction in York. That whole thing with your car.”

  “Staged.”

  “What about all those boats she was just talking about?”

  “Most of hers never left the marina. And the one that did is now at the bottom of the sound. Oh, and you both should know that Kurt Delacroix is in custody, down at the end of the dock, with that cat of hers rubbing against his ankles, just to piss him off.”

  Anna looked warily at Henry, as if still uncertain of his loyalty. He nodded, to reassure her that everything was finally okay. This time he even believed it, if only because of the gleam of triumph in Claire Saylor’s eyes.

  Claire crossed the room to Audra, who had sagged to her knees.

  “Anna, could you please help me tie up this scheming bitch?”

  The words snapped Anna out of her fog, and she sprang into action. Outside, the boat engines had gone silent, and a voice on a bullhorn blared, “FBI! Drop your weapons!”

  Claire and Anna got to work.

  62

  The three of them met in Washington a week later, at a French restaurant near K Street. A sentimental choice, Claire said, as the waiter seated them at a table for four.

  “We’ll pretend that the fourth seat is for Helen.”

  Anna glanced at the empty chair as if it might suddenly produce an apparition. Then she cleared her throat and looked down at her menu.

  “Does this have anything to do with Mom’s awful snow globe?”

  Claire looked up with a start.

  “She still had that?”

  “It’s on a shelf in her office.”

  Claire smiled brilliantly, a thousand watts of joy.

  “Hideous, isn’t it?”

  “What’s the story behind it?” Henry asked. “You even mentioned it in your last letter.”

  “No idea.” Claire looked back at the menu but was still smiling. The waiter took their orders, and then Claire laid down the ground rules.

  “Everything I’m about to tell you will stay between us. I’m only doing this as a favor to her.” She nodded toward the empty chair. “Are we all agreed?”

  “Well, I know Henry can keep a secret when an authority figure asks him,” Anna said. “So, sure, I’ll go along with that.”

  “I’m in,” Henry said. “Anna, how’s your brother doing?”

  The question seemed to disarm her, piercing the shell of resistance she’d brought to the table.

  “He’s pretty much his old self, now that the Zolexa is out of his system. Telling him Merle was gone was like removing a spell. He’s still not sure what happened, but from everything he’s said it’s clear that Merle convinced him he’d be able to change himself to be just like everybody else—smart, in other words—as long as he did as he was told, by destroying everyone’s ‘bad souls.’ Then everybody would emerge brand-new, him included. But first he had to aim true, right at their heads, or it wouldn’t work. So you were right all along about the sign. He was counting himself out, too. It was part of the reset that was going to make everyone better.”

  “And are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better. This whole thing—in one way, all it really did was postpone the collapse. It kept my mind working so hard that I never had time to grieve, or even say goodbye. The moment I got home from North Carolina I started to cry. I didn’t leave my apartment for almost a week.”

  Henry took her hand, and she didn’t pull it back. Anna cleared her throat.

  Through it all, Claire remained silent, her face placid. It seemed clear she was awaiting their cue to resume, so Anna turned toward her and spoke.

  “I think you’re the one we really want to hear from. Tell us about Gilley and Audra. Was she really with the Pond? Were they working together all those years?”

  “Heavens no to the latter. Although yes to your first question, so let’s back up a few years.” Claire checked for eavesdroppers, still the careful custodian of secrets.

  “I think you both have a pretty good idea of what got this whole thing started—those tapes. Two sticks of dynamite, even if it took them ages to detonate. The second one, with Gilley? That’s easy to read. A rape followed by a murder, with Delacroix to help him.”

  “But the tape about the Pond,” Henry said. “Did no one figure that out until a few months ago?”

  “I’m pretty sure a few higher-ups got wind of it right away, thanks to Helen’s friend, Clark Baucom, but they never aggressively acted on it. The Pond had survived, yes, mostly with the help of a few obliging corporations, but it hadn’t amounted to much. Small budgets and large egos, mistaking their insignificance for autonomy. They had a few patrons in the Pentagon, the occasional congressman, but I gather that certain elements in the Agency viewed it all along as a sort of glorified corporate security firm, whose people were sometimes useful. They were the whisper in an ear, the tap on a shoulder, and if you were a client they could always tell you what you wanted to hear. Remember the source Curveball and all that hokum that led us into Iraq?”

  “That was from the Pond?” Henry said.

  “One way or another, apparently.”

  “So, not always so harmless,” Anna said. “Plus, what about that guy on the tape, talking about ‘elimination, plain and simple.’ ”

  “They were always pretty nasty to anyone who they thought might betray them. Which is of course what eventually made Audra such a danger to your mother.”

  “Audra was still part of it, even now?”

  “She was their archivist from ’55 onward. They were content to let Grombach’s older papers rot in a barn as part of their cover, but her real coup was in securing an archival job with the CIA, in the late fifties, where she became the Pond’s conduit for any CIA materials they might want to see.”

  “Did the Agency know that?”

  “Not until a few weeks ago. And it was almost certainly Audra who got Helen fired back in ’79. When your mom first started asking for records about ‘Lewis,’ the code name on the first tape, Audra tried to divert her by giving her more material on Gilley. That’s when she first put Helen in touch with me, because she knew I had my own axe to grind about Gilley.

  “So there we were, the three of us, seemingly united in our sub rosa effort to take down Gilley. Then Helen filed a request asking for the whereabouts of Edward Stone, the wheezing man, and Audra realized her diversion wasn’t working. So, she told the Berlin chief of station that Helen was seeking information above her clearance. The next day, he lowered the boom.”

  “He fired her?” Anna said.

  “First thing in the morning. But instead of going quietly, Helen went on the run. She was sure Gilley was the one who had brought her down, and was determined to return the favor. That’s where I came in, helping her once she made it to Paris. And on the Gilley front, Audra was still willing to pitch in as well. Partly out of guilt, I suppose.”

  “What happened then?” Anna asked.

  “Lots of t
hings. Most of which I’m still not allowed to tell you. All you really need to know is that your mother was splendid under pressure, and was able to gather up the necessary goods without betraying either my role or Audra’s. And for her troubles she got a severance package, and that murdering rapist Gilley got to keep his job, mostly because murder was his whole reason for employment. A deeply unsatisfying result, but that’s how it can work in this business. And that’s how it would have ended, too, if Gilley hadn’t gotten cold feet about the arrangement when he moved into the public arena. I think he’d always suspected your mom still had copies of the evidence against him.”

  “Is that why he showed up that day at the mall?” Anna said. “To let her know she was in danger if she ever blabbed?”

  Claire eyed her carefully.

  “Something like that. And then, well, you saw the letters. When we found out Gilley might become a force in the White House, or maybe even director of intelligence, it was too much to stomach. So we laid our plans, and it all might have gone smoothly if I hadn’t sent Helen that damned obituary for Clark Baucom. Because then she went poking around at the Archives, and finally discovered what the first tape was all about.”

  “And saw the reference to Audra,” Henry said. “Is that when the strands crossed?”

  “Yes, because by then Gilley was in touch with Audra. He had found out about her little secret through the back channels he’d always inhabited, so instead of threatening her he offered a deal. Help keep your gabby girlfriends quiet, and once I’m in power I’ll usher your pals at the Pond out into the beautiful light of day, where they can finally flourish.”

  “That fits with what Newsweek said, about him being a fan of private intelligence gathering.”

  “Meaning that, for Audra, he was no longer the enemy. He was someone to be courted. That’s when everything got dangerous for Helen, because Audra had a source at the Archives keeping her apprised of everyone who was viewing the materials.”

  “Not Hilliard, I hope?” Anna said.

  “No. Some flunky who was happy for the extra pay. And when Audra realized what your mother had seen, she told Gilley we were planning to out him.”