McGarvey stared at a lone rock about the size of an irregularly shaped soccer ball. It was placed to one side in the garden. He suspected it had some significance. For the first time since Santiago, what seemed like a thousand years ago, McGarvey felt out of his league, even outclassed. His showing up on Yamagata’s doorstep in Washington had come out of the blue, and yet Kamiya’s organization was so far reaching and so strong it was able to suck McGarvey in and maneuver him to this place and time. It was tidy.
“Guerin Airplane Company is only part of it, then,” McGarvey said.
“A key element, but only that.”
“Without Guerin you would fail.”
“But we will have Guerin, Mr. McGarvey. There is no question of that. No question whatsoever.”
McGarvey sat across from Kamiya. “Maybe I’ll kill you.”
“You would be dead before you got within striking range,” the old Japanese said. He was supremely confident.
McGarvey had studied the garden for signs that anyone was hiding. Now he studied the facing wall and roofline of the house. No one was in sight, which didn’t preclude some kind of remotely operated weapons system. Kamiya would have to be out of the line of fire, but it wouldn’t be too difficult a system to engineer. McGarvey could think of several ways of doing it.
“Did you bring me here to kill me?”
“No, merely to neutralize you, Mr. McGarvey,” Kamiya said. “You have become a nuisance. A thorn in my side.”
McGarvey pushed back away from the table. There was nothing to fight, or to defend against.
“Even as we speak, Mr. McGarvey, a situation is being arranged that will diminish your effectiveness to nearly zero.”
“Maybe I’ll leave now.”
“Then you will die now. You need to remain a little longer.”
They came in two teams, leapfrogging out of the city, Isaacs and Ireland in a plain Toyota van and Shapiro and Littell in a four-wheel-drive Subaru. Greg Isaacs got out of the lead car about twenty-five yards from the big gate and immediately started through the thick woods up the mountain. At thirty-eight he was in the best physical shape of the four CIA legmen, so he’d been volunteered for this part of the mission. The others waited on the main road, one car well above the gate, the other retreating to the highway at the bottom of the valley about four miles away. Isaacs carried a powerful pair of binoculars, a sound amplifier with a small parabolic pickup dish, and a walkie-talkie.
The first hundred yards were relatively easy, but then the slope sharply steepened, and until he finally made it to the crest of the defile Isaacs wasn’t sure he could do it without mountain-climbing equipment. At the top he found himself at one end of a long ledge, the mountains rising in the back and a sheer cliff plunging five or six hundred feet in the front. A big house was perched at the edge of the dropoff about two hundred yards away. Isaacs raised his binoculars and saw McGarvey seated with another man on a veranda.
Isaacs keyed his walkie-talkie. “I have him.”
“You said that this is war. Do you mean a shooting war between Japan and the United States?”
“It may come to that,” Kamiya replied calmly. “But not necessarily.”
“Not necessarily.”
“It depends upon what Russia does in the coming days, and on how your government reacts to certain events that will soon occur.”
“I can stop you.”
“How?”
“By telling someone in my government what you’ve said to me. I think I can convince the right people to listen, and to believe enough to at least start an investigation. Tokyo would help.”
Kamiya noisily sipped his tea and looked at McGarvey with amusement. “Two days ago you might have had some small chance of success. But not now. By coming here you have damaged your credibility with your government, especially after your performance last night. The authorities in this country are very harsh with murderers, and especially harsh on foreigners. Yet you were released and all the charges against you wiped clean.”
“Those things can be explained.”
“Not after this morning, Mr. McGarvey. You will be leaving here in about an hour. Afterward you will be of no concern to me.”
McGarvey looked again toward the house, then measured the distance across the table to the old man. He would have to keep Kamiya between him and the house.
“Don’t forget the garden,” Kamiya said, a faint smile curling the corners of his mouth.
“If they miss me, they will hit you.”
“Not.”
“Can you be so certain?”
Kamiya’s smile widened. “The system has been tested, Mr. McGarvey. But if you wish to try it, please do so. It might prove to be amusing.”
Isaacs steadied his arm on the bole of a small tree as he aimed the parabolic dish directly at McGarvey and the other man. He pressed the headset close against his ear, but there was nothing except what sounded like wind in the trees or a waterfall, but a long way off. The receiver was supposed to be foolproof. Aiming the dish with his left hand, he raised the binoculars with his right and focused on the two men. They were talking. He could make out the Japanese man’s lips, but he was getting nothing except the goddamned waterfall in his headset. Shit. He put the dish aside and picked up the walkie-talkie.
“Rover one, copy?”
There was no answer.
“Rover one, this is two, do you copy, over?”
Still there was no answer.
“Your most intelligent observers in Washington are correct in their thinking about one thing,” Kamiya said.
“What’s that?” McGarvey asked, his frustration mounting.
“These attacks are not directed by my government. They are trying to stop me, though secretly they admire what I am doing. They are frightened.”
“I don’t blame them,” McGarvey said.
The repeaters were finished. There was the possibility that they would be discovered before the operation, so Louis had designed and built them to look like something completely different, so ordinary looking that even if they were spotted they might not be disturbed.
“The technicians will think that the janitors put them out, and the janitors will think that the technicians did it.” Louis giggled. “It’s not much, but it might give us a little margin of safety. Nobody will want to touch them.”
“Roach Motels?” Reid asked in wonderment.
“That’s right.”
The seven repeaters, each a couple of times bigger than a pack of cigarettes, were covered in simulated-wood brown paper, the Roach Motel logo on the side of each box. Reid picked one up and hefted it.
“It’s a little heavier than I would think one of these should be.”
“So who’s the expert on Roach Motel weights?” Louis asked.
Reid looked through it. “It’s hollow, except for the baffles.”
Louis giggled again. He was very proud of his handiwork. “The circuitry is on a board sandwiched between the top layers of cardboard. And the ion-exchange battery, which I designed, is sandwiched between the bottom layers. What do you think about that?”
Reid lowered the box and shook his head slowly. “What do I think?” He shook his head again. “I think you’re more of a genius than anyone has ever guessed.”
“Rover two, this is Rover one. What’s going on up there?”
Isaacs keyed his walkie-talkie. “Rover one, this is two, do you copy now?”
“Rover two, negative contact. If you copy, maintain your position. I’m coming up.”
“Good luck,” Isaacs muttered, laying the walkie-talkie down. Bob Ireland was in no shape to make the climb. He’d be a basket case by the time he got up here. If he made it this far, Isaacs figured he’d end up carrying his partner back down the mountain.
He started to raise the binoculars when someone grabbed him from behind and yanked him away from the tree. He pawed for his weapon, but something smashed into his neck, cutting off his air, a thousand stars bursting in
his head.
Isaacs was conscious long enough to understand he was being lifted off the ground by someone very strong, and then he was hurtling over the edge of the cliff and falling toward the rocks five hundred feet below.
TWENTY-THREE
“Goddammit, Carrara, the sonofabitch has done it now!”
Phil Carrara had expected Ryan, but not so soon. The book cable from Tokyo Station had come less than an hour ago. “It’s too early to draw any conclusions.”
“Conclusions, my ass. I warned you about this.”
“As you may recall, I asked if you wanted Tokyo Station to bring him in. You said no. Gates is not back from the lodge and Steve Pelham admits his information is preliminary at best.”
Ryan’s left eyebrow rose. “Your signature was on the return cable …”
Carrara flared. “I don’t work for you, Ryan.”
“Authorizing the operation to contact him. He’s left Tokyo. Any word on him?”
“Not yet. All we’re doing is following him to see who he meets with. He’s done nothing wrong—at least he’s broken none of our laws.”
“Come off it. He killed at least three people, and now he’s disappeared.”
“The Japanese police released him. That tells us something.”
“He’s got powerful friends. He didn’t fly over on vacation. Can you say for certain what he’s involved with?”
Carrara averted his gaze for a moment. Ryan had come charging into his office loaded for bear. While the CIA was in the business of intelligence gathering, the politics of influence often was the major factor in an operation. Ryan was the consummate political animal. He had the trust and respect of the director, and he had friends on the Hill and in the current White House administration. He was a dangerous man. “We know he’s involved with something we don’t understand, Mr. Ryan. I’ll admit that much. But what we don’t know yet is exactly what that might be.”
“Bring him in. Ask him.”
“Not so easy a job.”
Ryan’s lips compressed. “Are you saying that the man is out of control? He’s above the law? The bastard can come and go as he pleases?”
“Self-defense …” Carrara said, and Ryan cut him short.
“McGarvey is a trained assassin. It was this agency that trained him, and we did a good job of it. Without exception every time he gets involved with something there are fatalities. These three in Tokyo are just the latest. Can you guarantee there won’t be more?”
“They’d be justified.”
Ryan smirked. “No possibility he’s turned?”
“Turned into what?” Carrara demanded. He was tired of Ryan’s amateurism. The man was a lawyer and politician, but he was not an intelligence officer, though he liked to think he was. He used sophomoric terminology.
“Into a double by the opposition.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ryan came closer to Carrara’s desk, his eyes glittering. “The President is concerned that nothing affect his summit meeting in Tokyo.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I do. It’s my job. The General will want my recommendations. What do I tell him?”
“Operational briefs come from this office.”
“My office is responsible for oversight.”
“For the legal ramifications of our operations.”
“Congressional relations as well. And we all know what that means to this administration.”
“Do your job, Counselor, and let me do mine.”
Ryan held up his hands in a peace gesture. “Let’s not be at odds, Phil, I’m not the enemy. But if I’m to do my job effectively I need the cooperation of all the deputy directors.”
“You have mine.”
“All I’m saying, Phil, is that I don’t trust or like Kirk McGarvey. I think the man is dangerous, not only to this agency, but to the interests of the United States. A view that is shared by a number of important, well-informed people.”
“I don’t happen to agree.”
“I appreciate that. Out of friendship, or whatever, I concede your point that we ought to go slow with McGarvey.” Ryan stepped even closer for emphasis. “But let’s get with it. The timing is becoming critical. I would like a handle on the situation before it gets out of control. Do you know what I’m saying?”
Carrara nodded. Pissant or not, the Agency counsel was correct in his concerns. The situation with McGarvey was developing into something that promised to become even more deadly. “The follow-up from Tokyo should be coming in soon. When it does I’ll put it together with what we’ve already got and bring it up.”
“Fair enough. But I want you to remain objective. Can you do that for us, Phil?”
“Sure.”
Ryan took the elevator back up to the seventh floor. The general was expected in a few minutes. In the meantime Deputy Director Lawrence Danielle was free. Carrara, he thought, would have to be eased out. The DDO was very good at what he did, but like a scientist or an engineer the man had developed tunnel vision. He could not see beyond his own office, which in this day and age was not good enough. No longer were our enemies clearly defined. It was a fact that Ryan had tried to get across to Carrara on more than one occasion. Shades of evil existed everywhere, including at home. Even here in this building. But the bastard wouldn’t listen to him. In fact Carrara was becoming increasingly difficult. It was as if he thought he owned Operations. Just like in Cuba, or Nicaragua, or Chile, Hispanics were basically unstable. It was, he supposed, genetic.
“I thought you were gone for the day,” Danielle said from his desk.
“I had a few last-minute items to go over. Have you seen the latest from Tokyo?”
“McGarvey is at it again.”
“I think he should be brought in. I’m going to recommend it to the General.”
“What’s Phil’s reading?” the DDCI asked.
“Wait and see. Don’t upset the apple cart. Same old same old.”
“A view you do not share.”
“No,” Ryan said. “In fact I think Phil may be in left field on this one. Old friends and all that. I mean, it’s understandable, but it does not alter the fact that just now Japan is important to us, and McGarvey’s meddling is creating an unlevel playing field.”
Danielle gave Ryan an owlish look. “Phil Carrara is a bright, capable man.”
“I didn’t mean to imply anything different.”
“Very well, Howard. But you know as well as I do that McGarvey will come in only of his free will.”
“Unless he’s charged with something,” Ryan suggested slyly.
Danielle’s intercom buzzed. “The Director has arrived,” his secretary said.
“Tell him that Howard and I have something for him.”
“Very well.”
Danielle and Ryan walked across to the DCI’s office. “Has something come in from Tokyo Station?” Murphy asked.
“Phil is expecting an update momentarily,” Ryan replied. “But it’s possible they’ll turn up a blank. Tokyo is a big city, and if McGarvey has help it’ll make things doubly difficult.”
“Has anyone spoken with Al Vasilanti or David Kennedy in Portland?”
“Not that I’m aware of, General,” Ryan admitted.
“Lawrence?” Murphy turned to his DDCI.
“I’d feel better if we had a chance to ask McGarvey a few questions. But he won’t come in on his own.”
“We charge him with obstruction of justice,” Ryan suggested. “The NTSB is considering the outside possibility that Guerin’s crash at Dulles may have involved sabotage. McGarvey could be a material witness. At the very least he is withholding potentially important information. Air safety is on everyone’s minds these days. Considering Air Force One is a Guerin 522, I think we need to talk to anyone and everyone concerned. With or without their cooperation.”
“It’s an approach,” Danielle agreed.
Murphy nodded after a moment. “Instruct Tokyo S
tation that McGarvey is to return to Washington immediately.”
“He’ll certainly object.” Ryan’s eyes glittered.
“Immediately,” Murphy said.
Like their lunch date a few days ago, Chance Kennedy had no intention of accepting Yamagata’s dinner invitation, yet at the last minute she had given in. She was fascinated, despite the danger signals. She felt like a foolish schoolgirl, out of her league, but David was wrapped up with the new project, and she was so bored she wanted to scream. Yamagata was after information. But that cut both ways if she could keep her head.
“It was lovely, Arimoto,” Chance said over after-dinner drinks.
“Thank you, but it’s not over. I have a surprise for you.”
Chance smiled wanly. She glanced out the bay windows that looked through the woods toward the resort’s cabins, each with its own private path from the main lodge and dining room. “I wondered how you would approach that.”
“You accepted my invitation.”
“For dinner,” Chance said, turning back. His smile was devastating. “But not bed.”
“Tea,” he said, studying her face.
She looked at him quizzically.
He caressed the rim of his champagne flute with a finger. “You’re here for the same reason I am, Chance. Information. I would like to know more about Guerin Airplane Company’s will and determination to survive, and you want to know about Japan’s interests and intentions.” He looked up. “In order for you to succeed you must first understand the Japanese.”
“By drinking tea with you?”
“Cha-no-yu. It’s a ceremony, but it amounts to us drinking tea together. Two small cups for you, and two for me. Afterward you return to the city if you wish.”
“That’s it?”
He smiled again and nodded. “I’ve rented a cha house—actually it’s just the living room in one of the cabins—but I’ve made preparations. It’s taken two days.”
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