by Keith Yocum
“Can you at least stand over there in the doorway?”
Steven frowned, walked over to the doorway and said something to Casey. They both looked inside.
“Dennis,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know how to say this, but I just realized that you have no intention of following me to Perth, or at least not any time soon. You’re lost in one of your chases again. Nothing matters besides your chase, including me.”
The sickness and disorientation of being hospitalized had muddled Dennis’s perceptions, and he struggled to understand what Judy was talking about. Her eyes were watering, and he realized she was crying.
“Why are you crying?”
“Aren’t you listening to me?” she said.
“Of course I am. But why are you crying?”
“Damnit, Dennis, you’re not coming to Australia. And even if you did, you’d be off on another wild-goose chase as soon as you got there. Why has it taken me so long to understand this about you? What in God’s name is wrong with me?”
She stood up and wiped her eyes. Dennis felt dull and languid. Judy was crying, but why? he thought. A tear slid down the middle of her right cheek, taking a fleck of dark mascara with it.
“Judy, I, I… ”
She leaned forward, kissed him on his forehead and bolted from the room, pushing through the two men at the door.
“Steven,” Dennis yelled. “Stop her.”
Steven frowned at Dennis.
“Please, Steven?”
“Calm down, Cunningham,” Steven said, entering the room. “You’ll be in D.C. tomorrow. Everything’s going to be fine. Try to chill.”
✦
The condo smelled stale, and Dennis saw dust on every surface. He tried to open a window to let fresh air in, but the window resisted. After several exhausting attempts he shoved it open a few inches. The January air was cold and sharp, and he reflexively crossed his arms and went to the small kitchen and removed the items from his shopping bag.
He had been back in the States for two days, and though he was officially cleared to return to work, he was physically exhausted and emotionally drained.
During his illness in London, he lost track of time and hadn’t known where he was sometimes. His dreams had been strange and violent. In one recurring dream a woman had stabbed him with a drinking straw, which in normal circumstances would be quite funny. But in his recurring dream, the woman meant to kill him and chased him relentlessly. The faster he tried to run away from her, the more his legs lost strength. The woman in the dream always caught him.
He was especially perplexed about Judy. Why had she burst into tears in his hospital room and returned to Perth? He had left more than a dozen voicemails on her cell phone and had written numerous emails and texts.
The only answer he’d gotten from her was a text that said simply:
“please leave me alone”
What had he done to her? He barely remembered his last conversation with her in the hospital about Louise and Arnold, but that was it.
He put a small container of orange juice in the refrigerator, along with milk, some cheese, eggs and a loaf of bread. Dennis always kept his bread in the fridge, otherwise it would go moldy given his sporadic travel and eating habits.
His cell phone hummed.
“Cunningham here.”
“The IG will see you today at 3:45 p.m. Please be prompt. He has a 4:00 p.m. con call.”
“Yes, I’ll be there. Thanks.”
He knew that fifteen minutes was a very short time to get the IG’s attention on the Arnold case. Since his return to Langley, he’d done his best to figure out where Louise had moved to, but uncharacteristically, everything about her whereabouts was blocked. Even her email address had been changed, and he got bouncebacks stating the email address was no longer valid.
His fellow investigators in the office were as stumped as he was. They admitted that during her stint in OIG no one had gotten to know her well.
No one had heard of the Arnold case, which didn’t surprise him.
Dennis was going to confront the IG to see if he could pry something out of him. It was a long shot, but he had no other options. He had even contacted Barkley’s office to set up a meeting, but Morton, his chief of staff, said there was no record of the congressman ever speaking to Dennis.
Dennis reminded Morton that he and Morton met before, but the chief of staff said he had no recollection of that meeting.
“Please make sure that you follow protocols for contact with Representative Barkley,” Morton warned Dennis. “It’s not appropriate for an OIG staffer to contact the chairman directly. I’m sure I needn’t remind you of that.”
✦
“Come in,” Richardson said, beaming that bright-white porcelain smile of his. “And again, I feel compelled to tell you how very sorry I am about your hospitalization in London. No one else in this department seems to get in harm’s way like you, Dennis. But we’re all so glad you’re doing well.”
“Thank you,” Dennis said. “I appreciate your concern, and thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“Not a problem,” Richardson said. “You’re our best investigator, and we want you safe and sound.”
“Well, then if you don’t mind, I just wanted to complete my investigation of the Arnold case with a brief verbal report to you.”
Richardson’s long face drew even longer in confusion.
“That case is closed. I’m sure you know that.”
“Well, yes. I know it was closed. But I think I have some new information that you might be interested in.”
“But the case is closed and solved,” Richardson said. “Well, as solved as any of these complex cases are.”
“I don’t think so,” Dennis said. “I’m afraid that Arnold didn’t just disappear; he defected to Russia.”
Richardson’s eyes focused uncomfortably on Dennis’s, and the silence was unnerving.
“And he didn’t just defect, but he put Russian eavesdropping devices into the NSA facility in Menwith Hill. He allowed the Russians to tap into the NSA’s data. It was a major breach.”
Richardson continued to stare with what Dennis took to be a mixture of confusion and concern.
“We know all of that,” Richardson said.
“You do?”
“Of course. Louise broke the case for us while you were sick.”
“She did?”
“Yes. It’s a very sordid tale, unfortunately. Arnold had a gay lover and fell so madly in love that he flipped. Planted some new kind of surveillance tools in the NSA facility north of London and took off for Moscow. Of course, you know this information is of the highest clearance. It’s a terrible black mark on our operations group, and the London station in particular. But Louise, God bless her, was able to piece it together just when the deadline for the investigation hit. And once she discovered one of those things — a ‘node’ or something — the breach was found. And apparently Arnold disappeared in Moscow. Our folks are looking for him everywhere. We’ll get him one day. That is, unless Putin and his thugs simply disappear him first. And your part will never be forgotten. Louise reported that you were integral to drawing out Arnold’s handlers, though you and that poor fellow Kaczka from the NSA got the worst of it. She told us that the Russians were so convinced you were going to find out about the eavesdropping operation, they tried to take you out.”
Dennis felt a pressure in his chest that he thought might be a heart attack. But he realized it was anger, the burning kind of coal-fired anger that even scared him at times.
His lips were dry, and he licked them to make them operable.
“Which reminds me, how are you feeling?” Richardson asked. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. Guess the infection and antibiotics played havoc with some org
ans, especially my liver. But I’m fine.”
“Well, that’s great then.”
“By the way, where is Louise? I can’t seem to find her.”
“Oh, she’s been transferred. Sorry to see her go.”
“Yes, but I can’t seem to contact her. I get bouncebacks on emails to her.”
“Oh, that. She’s been detailed to a special operations unit that’s incommunicado. I’m sorry. I don’t think I’d even be able to contact her.”
“Who does she report to?”
“Ah, Cunningham,” Richardson said in a patronizing gesture of concern. “I don’t know the answer to that. It’s over. You and Louise did a brilliant job on this one. Relax. Get healthy. You still look a little peaked. Take some time off.”
“Mr. Richardson,” the intercom at his desk squawked. “You have that con call in three minutes.”
Richardson stood and extended his hand to Dennis. “Welcome back. Great job you and Louise did. Please take your time getting up to speed here. We want you healthy and focused for more projects.”
✦
While it was common for individuals to be transferred within the agency, it was unusual for an employee to disappear without a trace. Louise had managed to do so.
Dennis asked around to his colleagues and friends in other sections, and no one seemed to know who she was, except that Louise Nordland was associated with something heroic in Lebanon several years earlier.
Richardson said Louise had been assigned to a special operations unit, but in agency parlance, that could be almost any fly-by-night, hare-brained project. Analysts and operational people often fell off the grid during special projects and returned later with a shrug and a wink to their colleagues.
Still, Louise’s disappearance infuriated Dennis. It was clear, at least to him, that Louise had used Dennis’s work in breaking the Arnold case to advance her career and get herself back to operations. But how did she find out about the defection? And the eavesdropping equipment?
Taking credit for his work was only part of his outrage; equally upsetting was how she had discovered the parts of the puzzle he had not told her.
He knew he was obsessing over Louise. He stopped going to work regularly and had not been given any new assignments yet. Dennis peppered his friends and contacts with questions about Louise’s whereabouts as he looked for any lead. He wanted to confront her, though he was also aware that none of this mattered in the greater scheme of things. People exaggerated their accomplishments at work all the time — even fudged the truth to do so.
So the call was not a total surprise.
“Mr. Cunningham?”
“Yes, this is him.”
“Inspector General Richardson would like to speak to you. Please hold on.”
Dennis waited for several minutes.
“Cunningham, how are you?”
“Fine sir, how are you?”
“Just fine, thanks. Hope you’re taking it easy. I’ve asked the team not to give you any assignments just quite yet.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but well, I have an awkward question to ask you.”
Dennis knew where this was going.
“Go right ahead sir.”
“Ah, well then. It’s come to my attention that you have been devoting an extraordinary amount of time and energy to seek information on the whereabouts of Louise Nordland. Is that true?”
“Gee, I have been trying to figure out where she moved to. She has gone dark.”
“Yes, but I thought I mentioned that she was transferred to a special operations group. These groups often go off the grid for a reason.”
“I just wanted to contact her. I mean, we never said our goodbyes. I wanted to thank her for her help in London. She saved my life.”
“She’s a courageous woman, Cunningham. One of our best. I’m sure Louise appreciates your concern. But I’ve been asked to, well, have you cease trying to contact her. I know this is uncomfortable. But can I get your acknowledgement that you’ll stop trying to track her down?”
“I suppose so. I didn’t think I was breaking any rules.”
“So we agree then?”
“Yes, we agree. I’m sorry that I’ve caused any trouble for you.”
“Not at all, Cunningham. I’m glad we’ve had this conversation. I think we’re all set then.”
“Yes, we are. Thanks for the call.”
✦
“Dennis, I thought you knew that our clinical relationship is over,” Dr. Forrester said. She was sitting across from him in her small armchair. “We terminated therapy many months ago. The only reason I agreed to see you again was that you said you were in crisis.”
“I know you said we were not making much progress, but I thought I could still see you.”
“Dennis, I must say that you don’t look well. You seem to have lost some weight, and you look tired. Are you sleeping properly?”
“Sort of.”
“When you said you were in crisis, did you mean that you might be capable of hurting yourself or others?”
“No. Well, maybe I’m pissed off at one person in particular, but I don’t think I’d hurt her.”
Forrester’s face tightened. “Are you talking about the woman in Australia you had a relationship with? My notes said you had a romantic relationship with a woman named Judy and were considering breaking up with her.”
“No, not Judy. She’s fine. Or I think she’s fine. Another person. A woman I worked with.”
“So you’re not in danger of hurting yourself or this other woman?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“That doesn’t sound definitive, Dennis. ‘I don’t think so’ is not the correct answer.”
“Sorry, you’re right, Dr. Forrester. I’m not going to hurt anyone.”
“Then what is your crisis? Why did you keep calling my answering service?”
“It’s just that I feel like everything is spinning out of control. I was involved in a very complex investigation, and someone I liked a lot was killed. Then Judy was abducted in London. God, what a horrible mess that was. Then someone tried to kill me, and I was hospitalized. And worst of all, the woman I was working with stole my investigation and took credit for the whole thing while I was sick.”
Dr. Forrester looked down at the notebook in her lap and used her left hand to rub her temple. She sighed.
“Dennis, I’m not in a position to delve into your issues right now. My only goal is to ascertain whether you are capable of hurting yourself or someone else. You don’t seem to be at risk of doing that. But I strongly encourage you to contact one of the approved therapists on the agency’s list. It’s important that you start seeing someone again soon.”
“But I want to see you.”
“No, Dennis. I don’t see a clinical benefit in us continuing to work together. There are times when the therapeutic relationship becomes more habitual and less productive, and that’s why we ended the therapy.”
“But I’m in crisis,” Dennis said. “Can’t you see that?”
“To be honest, you’ve been in turmoil since we started with therapy. You’re like a lot of my agency clients — though I’m breaking some rules in saying that — you’re in a constant state of turmoil and crisis. If you think it’s exhausting to be in your line of work, you should try to sit here and listen to the endless tales of anxiety, trauma and depression.”
“I’m sorry,” Dennis said slowly. “As usual, I don’t take in other people’s concerns. Just my own. I guess you’d call that a theme.”
“Dennis, you seem to thrive on crises. I’m not suggesting that is the basis of a calm and rewarding life, but too many of your colleagues are wired the same way. I suspect that your employer collects these individuals like moths drawn to a flame. In the past, if I�
�m not mistaken, your instincts have been your salvation. So, until you find another therapist, trust your instincts, stop self-medicating with alcohol and try to lower your guard and let others into your life. And our time is up today.”
CHAPTER 32
Phil Nordland was the lead he was looking for.
Perhaps Dennis was getting old, or perhaps the bacterial infection had damaged his brain cells, but Dennis remembered that Louise’s husband’s name was Phil and he worked as an analyst at the National Security Council.
The NSC’s list of employees was not readily available, but it was much less sacrosanct than other intelligence lists. Yet it took him less time than he imagined to find a “P. Nordland” living in Vienna, Virginia, including an address. Who needed spies when you had Google to work with?
He drove by the address one afternoon to find a large, expensive suburban home with a two-car garage. The style was modern colonial, with all trappings of what passed for wealth in the Washington suburbs: huge lawn, manicured landscaping and a white fence separating it from the neighbors.
On the second evening Dennis drove by, the house was lit up. He did not slow down and was careful not to gawk. The following night, he drove by using a small video camera to case the place out.
He rented a car the third day to mix things up and drove by the Nordland house twice, once in the early morning and once again at dinnertime. Both times the garage doors were shut, but there was definitely activity in the house. Was Louise overseas on another assignment? Was this the P. Nordland who was married to Louise Nordland? Dennis guessed it was, but he needed verification.
On the following Saturday, Dennis drove by the Nordland household at 9:30 a.m. and caught the garage door opening. He sped down the block, pulled into someone’s driveway and turned off the car. In his rear-view mirror he watched a late model jet-black Audi A6 slide by with Louise Nordland driving.
After she passed he started the car, backed up and followed the Audi to a mall. He saw Louise park in front of a Whole Foods and enter it. He parked nearby, pulled on a blue wool cap and wraparound sunglasses. He walked idly around the parking lot, keeping an eye on his watch. If she was shopping, he guessed it would take her about a half hour.