Ghost Sniper

47

Forty-eight hours after the Land Rover impacted the surface of the Lishui River, Director of the CIA Robert Pope discovered that the Chinese Ministry of State had learned Gil’s true identity through facial recognition and was in the process of searching the river for his body. Deep river currents had washed the Rover more than a half mile downstream before it was located, and by the time Chinese authorities fished it from the drink, all of the windows had long been broken out of it.

Pope sat before his computer, staring at the screen for a long time. At length, he took off his glasses and then sat looking out the window. It would be his responsibility to break the news to Marie Shannon. The poor woman had been through so much already, and now her ultimate nightmare had become a reality.

He rocked back in the chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

So far the Chinese were not telling the outside world that they had identified an American CIA agent operating within their borders, and Pope doubted very seriously they ever would. There were too many reasons to keep it secret, and almost nothing to gain by making it public. This meant he could take his time about telling the White House. Had Gil been captured alive, the political situation would have been much different, so the colder, more calculating part of Pope’s persona took solace in the fact Gil had not been captured, and he hoped that his body would not be found, though he was certain the Chinese would make every effort.

There had been some initial confusion in Beijing as to what had happened to Lena Deiss, but the Ministry of State quickly tracked her to Taiwan, where she was now outside its reach. Pope briefly considered sending an agent to intercept her there, but something told him to let the sleeping dog lie for now. If Gil’s body was found, and the Chinese decided to make a public stink about it, there would be time enough for looking into Lena Deiss.

Pope’s most immediate responsibility was to Gil’s widow.

He got up from the chair and went to find Midori in her office, where she sat collating intelligence files on their developing Saudi operations.

“Gil’s dead,” he said quietly. “I’m going to Montana to tell his wife. I’ll be back in twelve hours.”

Midori stared at him.

“He crashed off a bridge in Hunan Province,” he went on. “They’re still searching the river for his body.”

“My God,” she croaked. “What happened? I mean… how?”

He shrugged. “It looks like he set some Russians on fire in a hotel. I don’t know what he was thinking. Anyhow, the police caught up to him before he could get away this time.”

“Fire? What about Lena Deiss?”

“She made it to Taiwan.”

“Are we going after her?” Midori paid close attention to the drift of his gaze as he pondered his response.

After a few moments, Pope answered, “No. We’ve got enough to focus on.”

“What about Blickensderfer? If Gil’s dead, are we going to resume the operation?”

“Keep him under surveillance for now. I’ll decide about him later.” He returned to his office and called the airfield, ordering his Gulfstream G650 jet prepped for immediate takeoff.