Close Quarters

FORTY-THREE

Callahan opened the link. He read it through then printed off a copy before making his way along to the ops room where Lindsay was sitting. She made to stand up when he walked in, but he signalled for her to sit.

‘At ease,’ he murmured. ‘How’s it going?’ He was desperately trying to figure out a way of broaching the subject of her sister, in the hopes that instinct and experience might answer some of the questions raised by Sewell’s visit. But the walk so far hadn’t given him any brilliant ideas. How do you tell an employee you trusted implicitly that you knew a lot of money had landed in her account from an unknown source without breaking that trust completely?

‘Quiet, but about to go wild,’ she said, and smiled as if excited by the prospect.

‘Yeah, I think you’re right.’ He sat down in the spare chair. ‘You prepared for that?’

‘Yes, sir. Better than sitting here waiting.’ She gestured at the extra screen which was carrying a split display. ‘I hope it’s not overstepping the mark, sir, but I brought in some live satellite and news feeds to give me more data for Watchman. I’ll be keeping him updated as it comes in. I dropped you a note to that effect in the internal mail. I also made an additional request.’

‘I saw it.’ He waved the piece of paper holding the message. ‘And I approve the request.’ He took out a pen and signed it off for the record. It was a touch of rebellion on his part but Callahan was impressed with her thinking. The data she was referring to from NSA and DIA sources was available for anyone down here with the correct authorization, which Lindsay had by virtue of her assignment. But he was pleased she’d taken it on without having to ask for help, and even more pleased that she had thought of using a drone as overhead coverage for Watchman’s exit strategy. It showed a logical and mature approach to her work and made him even more certain that she wasn’t the cause of the leak.

‘I’ll have to speak to a couple of people to get it signed off, but this could be the one time we actually get the authorization to use it. Do you know where the drones are operated from?’

‘Isn’t it Ramstein Air Base in Germany?’

‘Correct. This one will be a high-altitude camera-only, so it should go unnoticed. As soon as it’s airborne you can advise Watchman. He won’t see it but it’ll be good for him to know it’s there.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Tell him we can’t have it loaded with missiles, because that might cause problems.’ He tried to imagine what it would be like for Portman and Travis, making their way across country to the border with Moldova. He hadn’t been exaggerating in his description to Sewell; it was a long way and fraught with potential dangers. He just hoped nothing was going to come up that would place them in further jeopardy.

‘Was there something else, sir?’ Lindsay was looking at him and he realized he’d been frowning.

He shook his head, then decided to tackle the problem head-on.

‘I’ve been instructed to put you on red light rules,’ he told her.

‘What’s that?’

‘It means that for the duration of this mission you and this room are off-limits to all personnel. I’ll be here, too, in the office next door, to assist if you need it. It’s placing you under more pressure, but I think it’s necessary given the circumstances. Effectively it’s cutting you off even more from the outside world. I hope it won’t be for too long.’

Lindsay nodded. ‘I’m fine with that, sir.’ She hesitated. ‘By all personnel, sir, who does that mean?’

‘Everyone except Assistant Director Sewell. And the president. Although I think even he might find it tough getting past the security guards at the end of the corridor.’ He tried a smile but was aware that it didn’t quite come out right.

‘Sir, are you unhappy with my work?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because I can sense something, sir. It might not be my place, but I like to think I can read people. Did Senator Benson say something, sir?’

‘Benson?’ Callahan’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘What does he have to do with anything?’

‘Because he’s been down here, sir, asking questions.’

‘What sort of questions?’

‘About my ambitions, hopes, what I think of the work. He said he was compiling a report for a senate intelligence committee on personnel and needed some background information.’

‘Was that all he wanted to know?’ Callahan was puzzled. Anything like this should have been steered through himself, although he guessed Assistant Director Sewell must have given Benson the OK to come down here asking his questions. But the timing was very odd. Why now? And why the focus on Lindsay?

‘He asked about my family. My brother, Tommy, and my sister, Karen. I told him it was all on record, with the vetting procedure and so on, but he asked, anyway.’

She kept her expression blank, but it was obvious to Callahan that she wasn’t happy at what she saw as an intrusion at a critical time, and he couldn’t blame her.

He couldn’t believe it. Was it Benson who’d raised concerns with Sewell about Lindsay’s suitability for this job? Logic said that was impossible. Why would he bother? What would even instigate such concerns? As one of the most influential members of the Intelligence Community, Benson had the kind of background and status unequalled in Washington DC, giving him access to this and many other top-secret establishments around the city. The matter of personnel was surely so far down on his list of concerns as to be beyond thought.

‘What did he want to know — about your sister?’

‘He asked about her debt problems, sir. But as I told him, it’s all on file.’

‘Yes, it is. You’ve been very open about that. What else?’

She frowned. ‘He said … I got the impression he knew that I sometimes help her out with money. I don’t think that’s on file, sir — but it’s a personal issue, surely.’

‘What did you tell him?’ Callahan found he was holding his breath. Or maybe it was the closeness of this room. But he was beginning to see a picture emerging … and a possible motive. He was aware, like many of his colleagues, that Benson had expressed concerns about the way the CIA conducted itself many times in the past, sometimes with good reason. But behind it was often the rhetoric of a crusader who wanted change for change’s sake.

She shrugged. ‘I told him I do, sometimes, when she’s really in a bad place. Karen, she’s … she doesn’t handle money well. I have to refuse her occasionally — but that’s not your concern, I guess. Does he have a right to know that stuff?’

‘No, he doesn’t.’ And in a virtual repeat of what he’d said to Sewell, he added, ‘It’s admirable that you help her, and I guess we all do what we can to help out family members.’ He hesitated. ‘This is none of my business, and you can tell me so if you wish, but I guess she probably doesn’t pay you back, right?’

Lindsay shook her head with a wry smile. ‘It would be nice if she did. But no, sir. Like I said, she’s not good with that sort of stuff. What goes into one hand goes straight out the other.’

He nodded. ‘I understand.’ He desperately wanted to tell her about the deposit to her bank account, but couldn’t. Learning that the security section had looked at her account might blow the trust that had grown between them at a critical time. Instead he was going to have to trust her to speak up about it later.

He made to stand up, then had a thought. It was one he didn’t wish to entertain, but that particular horse had already left the starting gate. He asked, ‘Has Senator Benson ever been in this room by himself?’

Lindsay answered with a slight hesitation. ‘No, sir, never. I make sure it’s never been left unattended.’

Callahan picked up on her hesitation. ‘But? You had a second thought there.’

She coloured slightly, as if unsure of herself. ‘Well, there was the time he came down with Assistant Director Sewell, not long after I started. You were overseeing another operation. Director Sewell was called away and Senator Benson stayed here, asking questions.’

‘I remember. You told me he was asking about Watchman.’

‘That’s correct, sir.’ She started to say something more, but paused.

Callahan noticed. ‘Tell me.’

She told him, and he listened without interruption, feeling a cold fury growing inside him. This was way beyond anything that he’d ever experienced before, and hinted at betrayal of the most sinister and underhanded kind. Benson had used his position and name to bully a young trainee into giving him information to which he had no right. And, if confirmation was possible, he suspected that Benson had done so to compromise an operation and threaten the lives of two men in the process. Exactly why was a mystery, but that would come out in due course … unless Benson was able to use his influence to block any chance of an investigation.

‘Anything else?’

‘More recently I found him here with my stand-in while I was on a comfort break.’

‘What was he doing?’

‘He was asking about the monitors, getting a tour from my stand-in about the technical side of what goes on here, the maps, the overlays and stuff. I switched them off the moment I got back. That’s why I thought he might have said something. Sir, I guess I might have been pretty blunt, I admit. I’m sorry, but he’s got such a high clearance and AD Sewell brought him down here, so I thought—’

‘What could he have seen?’ Callahan felt bad about interrupting her, but he was getting a cold chill up his back at the thought of what this could mean.

She looked puzzled. ‘Pretty much everything, sir. The maps, the routes for Watchman, the locations and coordinates … and a transcript of Watchman’s latest report.’

‘Specifically?’

‘About the run-in with the soldiers in Donetsk, getting Travis out … and where he was headed next.’

There it was. Callahan had to work hard to contain his anger. He was thinking about the hard time he’d gotten from Sewell earlier, and the accusations levelled against Lindsay which could have terminated her career before it got going — and could do still if he wasn’t careful. Yet the assistant director himself had allowed Benson to come down here unescorted and question personnel on vital information to which not even the president would have access.

It served to remind him of what Portman had said earlier about the man named Voloshyn who’d murdered the cut-out. Voloshyn knew exactly where to find Travis and the local cut-out. He could … by having access to the list of addresses … or by having been given the location of the hotel where Travis was dropped off.

He wondered how much Benson had seen and remembered from previous visits here … and what he might have talked about once he was out of the secretive atmosphere of this place. He had no idea whether the former senator possessed a better than average or even eidetic memory, but he’d never met a political in-fighter of Benson’s experience yet who couldn’t absorb details like a sponge when it suited them, and regurgitate them later when everyone else thought they’d been long forgotten.

What was certain was that Benson had contacts throughout the Intelligence Community, and if he wanted something, he would have ways of getting it. Things like photos, for example.

As he left the room and headed for the elevator to the upper levels, he wondered idly how hard it would be to get a drone in the air armed with a Hellfire missile and to order a strike on the senator’s home.