The Kill Zone km-9

by David Hagberg

  Men need not be present. He smiled. “Will he believe me?” “He’d better, or I’ll pop him.” “Dinner’s in a half hour,” Kathleen told him, and she and Elizabeth went into the study and closed the door.

  Todd had a beer. He was perched on the fireplace hearth in the family room, a glum expression on his broad, pleasant face. McGarvey got a beer and joined him. “She told me to tell you that she doesn’t really hate you.” Todd looked up and shook his head ruefully. “One minute she’s as sweet as Mother Teresa, and the next she’s as mean as a junkyard dog.” He was broad-shouldered and solidly built, like an athlete. When he got older he would probably be chunky, but for now he was formidable. His eyes were as bright a blue as Liz’s were green.

  McGarvey couldn’t wait to see what color the baby’s eyes would be.

  “Besides being mean, what’s her latest project?” “Just before we came over here tonight, she tried to move the refrigerator because she was convinced that there were bugs and mice nesting in the dirt behind it.”

  “If it’s any consolation, her mother did the same thing,” he assured his son-in-law. “Has she said anything else about the conspiracy theory that she and Otto were working on?” “That was before the accident. She’s into her super clean and super fit mode now. By the time we leave for Vail tomorrow, the apartment will be spotless, and she’ll be itching to ski me into the ground.” “Her doctor said that’s okay?” “I talked to him myself. He wants her to stay off the black diamond runs. No booze and lots of rest. But he told her that this would be her last fling. Starting Monday she can’t even go back to the Farm.” “Take it a little easy on her, Todd. And I’m not saying that just because she’s my daughter,” McGarvey advised. “Right now she feels fat, ugly and useless.” “Tell me about it.” “You need to assure her that in your eyes she’s beautiful, that you still love her, and that you won’t abandon her.” “She knows better ” Todd protested, but McGarvey held him off. “Doesn’t matter what you think she knows. It’s what she wants to hear. What every woman going to have a baby wants to hear. That her partner is going to be there for her, no matter what.”

  “She’s so god dammed stubborn.” “And you aren’t?” Todd flared, but then grinned ruefully. “If she could just relax once in a while.” “Is the honeymoon over?” “I don’t know if it ever began.” McGarvey knew that they argued, but this sounded like trouble. They were practically clones of each other, but they couldn’t see it. “Maybe you should get a divorce,” McGarvey suggested. Todd’s grip tightened on the beer bottle. “That’s not an option,” he answered. “Then do something about the situation.” “What?” “Either roll over and play dead, or finesse her.” Todd shook his head. “She’d hate me either way.” McGarvey almost hated maneuvering his son-in-law so blatantly. But not quite.

  “Do you love her?” “What?” Todd sputtered. “Of course I do.” “Then you have the magic bullet. Whenever she gives you some shit, tell her that you love her. It’ll stop her in her tracks every time, provided she can see that you mean it.” “Oh, yeah?” McGarvey nodded. “But it won’t work unless you ease up on her, too.” Todd looked away. “I’ll try anything.” “That’s good,” McGarvey said. He turned around as Elizabeth and her mother came in. Katy had a glass of white wine, and Liz was drinking what looked like a plain soda water on the rocks with a twist. “Just in time. We’re starving,” he said. “If Todd missed a meal now and then, it wouldn’t hurt him,” Liz said crossly. Todd pursed his lips and nodded. “You’re right. You’re beautiful, Liz. I love you.” Elizabeth started to make a sharp retort, but something in his eyes got to her. She softened and grinned at her father. “If you’re his chief adviser, keep it up.” She looked at her husband.

  “Flattery will get you anything you want.” He brightened. “Anything?”

  Elizabeth glanced at her parents. “Well, you might have to wait until later for some things.” The moment remained in tableau, Todd and Elizabeth grinning at each other, until Kathleen motioned for Kirk to go out to the kitchen with her. She had him take the roast out of the oven and put it on the carving board. “Ten minutes and you can start cutting it,” she told him. She glanced toward the family room.

  “Something’s wrong with her. She’s hiding something.” McGarvey nodded.

  “I think it has something to do with work.” “This is starting to get ridiculous, Kirk,” she said sharply. “She’s pregnant. She has no business working in the field. She’s your daughter, fire her.” “Do you think she’d stand still for it if I tried?” “It would put her nose out of joint, but I’d rather see that than have something happen to her or the baby.” Kathleen gripped McGarvey’s arm. “Dave Whittaker can do it. You can make him understand.” “I can pull her from Williamsburg and put her on the Russian desk, but I’d have to give her and her section heads a good reason.” “She’s pregnant, for God’s sake.”

  “She’s not in the field, she’s not running the Course at the Farm, no combat sims, nothing but lectures and paperwork.”

  Kathleen gave her husband a critical look. “There’s even more. You’re hiding something, too. I can see it in your eyes.” McGarvey nodded.

  “She and Otto are working on something. All he tells me is that Liz is looking through some of my old files, maybe to do an in-house biography. She may have seen the file on my parents, including the accident pictures.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Do you see what I mean?” McGarvey was confused. “No, I don’t.” “Otto and Elizabeth are working on something together. And now you’re sending Otto home because he’s falling apart.” She spread her hands. “Do you think that it’s a coincidence that our daughter is lying to us?”

  “There’s not much we can do for her if she doesn’t want us to get involved with her pregnancy. At least not for now. And the other thing, with her and Otto, will be resolved in the next couple of days.

  I’ll make sure of it.” Kathleen nodded after a moment, then busied herself with the rest of the dinner while McGarvey carved the roast.

  They all had wine except for Elizabeth, who stuck with Perrier. She and Todd seemed relaxed with each other, but there was an underlying tension around the table. “I’ve relieved Otto from duty for a couple of days,” McGarvey said when they were finished. Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s probably a good idea. He came back too soon after the accident. But if he wants to keep working, he can do it from his apartment.” “What are you two working on that’s got him so heated up, and you climbing down everyone’s throats?” McGarvey asked his daughter. “Otto and I aren’t working on anything.” “Come on, Liz.

  You’re putting together my bio, everybody knows that. Otto’s got you digging through some of the old records at Fort Hill. But he’s been working on something else, too. He won’t tell me what it is yet, but it’s got something to do with KGB files and with an old Department Viktor psychologist by the name of Nikolayev. Does any of that ring a bell?” “No.” Elizabeth said it with a straight face, but this time McGarvey knew damned well that she was lying to him. “Maybe I should relieve you of duty, too.” “Come on, Dad. I have a job to do. But if I’m going to be treated like the director’s daughter, I won’t be able to get anything done. I’ll never know if people are telling me the truth or just something that they think I want to hear. Let me get on with it.” “On with what?” Something flashed across her face. “My job.” “You’re four months pregnant, Elizabeth,” her mother said. “In the old days women went to bed for the entire nine months, Mother.

  This is the twenty-first century. Not only am I going to keep working, but Todd and I are going skiing this weekend. With my doctor’s permission.” “Okay, sweetheart, if you want to be treated like an ordinary intelligence officer, so be it,” McGarvey said. “That’s exactly what I want,” Liz responded defiantly. “You and Todd are relieved from duty at the Farm as of right now. I’ll talk to Dave Whittaker and Tommy Doyle about your transfers. Starting Monday you’ll be assigned to the Russian desk,
and Todd will work for Jay Newby in the Operations Center.” “Dad-” “Since you’re going away for the weekend, I’ll cut you some slack. But no later than Tuesday noon I want a full report on what you’ve been doing for the past ninety days.

  That includes all your day sheets and contact logs.” “What if I don’t?” Elizabeth flared. “Then I’ll fire you.” Elizabeth started to protest, but Todd put a hand over hers. “Shut up, Liz,” he told her.

  “The transfer is just until after the baby is born, right?” he asked McGarvey. “We’ll see. Once the baby comes your job specs will have to be reevaluated anyway.” Todd nodded after an awkward silence. “Liz’s day sheet will be on your desk Tuesday morning.” “What time are you leaving for Colorado?” Kathleen asked. She was brittle. Elizabeth turned to her mother. Sensing trouble, her lips tightened. “Eight in the morning.” She glanced up at the clock. It was coming up on 9:00.

  “In fact we should get going now. We still have to get our ski stuff together, and I need to get some sleep. It’s been a long week.” “Did your doctor consider the risk you’re taking, going out to Colorado, considering what happened… last time,” Kathleen asked. “It’s still snowing, Mrs. M.,” Todd said. “The Beltway is going to be a mess. We have to go.”

  “I asked a question.”

  Elizabeth held herself tightly. “Yes my doctor considered the risk to me and my baby, and he gave me permission to go skiing if I was careful.”

  Kathleen turned to her husband. “What do you think, Kirk?”

  “If they don’t get going right now they’ll have to stay the night and they’ll miss their flight. The roads won’t be any better by morning.”

  Kathleen clenched her hands. “Be careful, Elizabeth. Would you do at least that much for me?” she said. “I’ll worry all weekend about you and the baby. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

  Elizabeth softened. “It’ll be okay, mother. I want you and daddy to have some fun too. Soak up some sun. Washington will be here when we all get back.”

  “I’ll get your skis out of the garage,” Todd told Elizabeth. “Great dinner, Mrs. M.” He got up and McGarvey went with him.

  Elizabeth’s skis, in their hard shell traveling case, had already been taken down from the rack on the back wall. Todd carried them out to his Land Cruiser SUV and attached them to the roof rack with bungee cords.

  McGarvey glanced back at the house. He could see through the hall window that Kathleen was helping Elizabeth with her jacket.

  “Watch yourself out there,” McGarvey told his son-in-law.

  “I’ll make her take it easy.”

  “I don’t mean just that,” McGarvey said. “You and Elizabeth are field officers and I’m the acting DCI. We’re targets. All of us, all the time.”

  A flat, professional look came into Van Buren’s eyes. He nodded.

  “There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think about it. Especially now with the baby coming.”

  McGarvey clapped him on the shoulder. “You know what to do. Both of you do. Watch your backs.”

  McGarvey helped his wife clean up, and afterward they went up to bed.

  He made sure that the house was locked up and the security system was up and running first. At the head of the stairs he stopped and looked down at the front door in the gloom of the front hall. The scratching was coming again. It was like an animal in trouble trying to gain entry to the house. A rough beast, or merely a stray, he couldn’t tell. But something was coming. Gaining on them. Skulking in the night. Waiting to pounce. “Paradise is where I am,” Voltaire wrote in Le Mondain. Life was what you made of it. Either a paradise or a hell. McGarvey wasn’t sure which life he had created for himself and his family, though he was certain that he wanted paradise, or at least a little peace. By the time he got undressed, washed up and climbed into bed, Kathleen was already half-asleep. “Good night, Katy,” he said. “I wonder what we’ll come back to,” she mumbled. She rolled over, and within a minute her breathing deepened. She was asleep.

  McGarvey turned off the lights, and for a long time he listened to the winter wind whipping around the eaves; the scratching, nagging feeling rising again at the edges of his consciousness. In the old days he would have run first and looked back later. But he couldn’t do that now. Not now, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

  FRIDAY

  FIFTEEN

  McGARVEY COULD FEEL THE PISTOL IN HIS HANDS. FEEL THE RECOIL AS HE FIRED THREE SHOTS AT THE TRAITOR. KILLING HIM.

  CHEVY CHASE

  McGarvey got home a few minutes before noon. Three leather bags were packed and lined up in the front hall. But Kathleen wasn’t home. She’d left a note on the hall table promising that she would be back by noon; she had a couple of errands to run before they left for Andrews Air Force Base. Yemm came in, glanced at the bags and cocked an ear to listen. “Mrs. McGarvey’s not home?” “She had a couple of errands to run,” McGarvey told him. “Put the bags in the trunk, would you, Dick?

  I’m going upstairs to change.” True to form, Kathleen had laid out his clothes; boat shoes, white slacks and a colorful Hawaiian print shirt.

  She’d also laid out a jacket for the trip to the airport. He felt faintly foolish putting on summer clothes while snow was falling, but when he was dressed his mood was lighter than it had been all week. He found that he was looking forward to the weekend for his own sake. He transferred his Walther to an ankle holster strapped to his right leg under his slacks. When he put his foot down and turned around, Kathleen, snow still clinging to her Hermes scarf, was at the door, looking at him, an intense expression on her face. “Is that necessary?” she asked. She sounded winded, as if she had just finished jogging a couple of miles. “Considering what I am, yes, it is, Katy.”

  “Kathleen,” she corrected. But then she smiled and shook her head.

  “There I go again.” She came to him and they embraced. “Sorry, darling,” she said. “It’s all right. Old habits die hard. For both of us.” She shivered. “Come on, Katy,” McGarvey said. “We’re going to have a great weekend.” She looked up and squared her shoulders.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready.”

  “I’ll check to make sure that we’re locked up.” “Does Dick have to come with us?” “It’d be tough trying to get rid of him,” McGarvey told her. “Having a bodyguard is part of the job.” “I suppose,” she said.

  McGarvey stopped at the door. “Did you get your errands done?” “I went to church,” Katy muttered. “What?” “I didn’t think that I’d be so late. Father Vietski heard my confession. No big deal.” McGarvey came back to her. “Are you afraid to fly? We don’t have to go to St.

  John. We can take the train to Florida and have just as relaxed a time.” “No, it’s all right. I’ve never been to the islands.” “Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded. “One hundred percent,” she said. She gave him a reassuring smile. “Now, get out of here so I can change.”

  The moment they lifted off from Andrews Air Force Base and broke out into the bright sunlight on top of the low deck of snow clouds, Kathleen’s mood took a dramatic swing. She became bright and animated, as if she were onstage even though she was playing to a very small audience. The Gulfstream VIP jet, one of several that the CIA used, was a navy aircraft, maintained and operated by naval personnel. Their captain was Lt. Cmdr. Frank White, a veteran of the Gulf War and the Bosnian peacekeeping operation. He was only forty-seven but looked much older because his hair was perfectly white. He smiled with his eyes and handled the airplane as if it were a toy in his capable hands.

  His copilot, Lt. Rody Johnson, was a short-timer. He was going to work for Delta Airlines in the spring. Their flight attendant was Ens.

  Judy Dietrich, a blond German from Milwaukee, who looked fifteen but was in fact in her thirties, married and the mother of three boys. As soon as they were at cruising altitude and heading southeast out over the Atlantic, Ensign Dietrich offered them drinks. Yemm stuck
with Pepsi, but Kathleen asked for Dom Perignon. “We’re on vacation, and the government is paying for it, so why not live a little,” she said.

  The remark was uncharacteristic. McGarvey could see a sharp edge of tension at the corners of her eyes and mouth. “Maybe you should wait until we get on the ground,” he suggested. She waved him off airily.

  “Nonsense. It’s going to be a lovely weekend. You said so yourself.”

  “Are you a little nervous about flying, Mrs. McGarvey?” Ensign Dietrich asked under her breath as she poured the champagne.

  “Absolutely petrified.” “Would you like something ”

  “The champagne is fine, thank you,” Kathleen said. “But tell the captain to get us there posthaste if he would.” McGarvey took a glass of champagne and sat back. “We’ll be in the islands in time for dinner.” “Let’s eat out.

  I feel like I’ve been in jail for the past month.” McGarvey glanced at Yemm, who shrugged. “There’s a nice place in Frenchtown on St. Thomas.

  We can have dinner there before we take the ferry over.”

  “Do we have to dress?” “Not in the islands,” McGarvey told his wife.

  “That’s the whole point.” “Because if we have to dress, we’re in trouble,” Kathleen said as if she hadn’t heard him. “I didn’t bring any good clothes. Just shorts and swimming suits and summer clothes.”

  She sounded almost manic. “That’s fine, Katy,” McGarvey said. “I thought that if the restaurant in Frenchtown is nice, we might feel out of place dressed like this.” She wore a soft yellow maillot over which she had put on a linen skirt, sandals and a scarf around her neck. She looked like a model in a Club Med commercial. “You look great, Mrs.