Shoot Him If He Runs

24

Bill Pepper and his wife, Annie, paid their check and left the inn.

“So, did you fuck her?” Annie asked.

“I would have, if I’d had the time.”

“I thought so.”

They were quiet for a while.

“Did you think she was attractive?”

“You got a look at her; what do you think?”

“I think she’s attractive.”

“Well, I won’t be seeing her again; we’ll talk only on the satphone.”

“Satphone sex!”

“Scrambled satphone sex!”

They both laughed. They arrived home and got undressed for bed.

“I’ve got to call in,” he said to his wife. “Anything you want to pass on?” She was Agency, too.

“Not to Lance Cabot,” she said.

“You’d better start being nice to him.”

“You think he’s going to get the job?”

“I think he will if this Holly Barker’s assignment pans out.”

“What’s her assignment?”

“This is between you and me, okay? Nobody else ever hears about it.”

She fluffed her pillow and got into bed. “Okay.”

“Lance sent her down here to find Teddy Fay.”

“You gotta be kidding.”

“I kid you not.”

“Lance thinks he’s still alive?”

“The Director thinks he might be still alive, and that’s enough.”

She shook her head. “Hang on a minute while I connect the dots.” She was quiet for a moment. “Okay, I can’t connect the dots.”

“The dots run all the way to the president; does that help?”

Her eyebrows went up. “Ooooh; reelection!”

“You’ve just connected the dots.”

“Why don’t they just leave well enough alone? Nobody else is looking for him.”

“I’ll bet you a blow job the FBI still is.”

“I won’t take that bet,” she said. “Teddy got away from them twice; Director Bob must be pissed off.”

“Yeah, and he’s the kind of guy who, once he’s pissed off, stays pissed off, until somebody makes him happy.”

“You think they’d arrest Teddy if they found him?”

“My guess is, not until after the election. After all, it was Will Lee who pulled Director Bob out of the ranks and gave him the big job. The guy must have some sense of gratitude.”

“You’d think.”

“Ms. Barker thinks this guy, Robertson, might be Teddy Fay.”

“The one you think is the escaped airport bandit?”

“I’m right; I know I am.”

“Excuse me, but aren’t you the guy who thought that coffee merchant in Cairo was Osama bin Laden?”

“That has nothing to do with this. Besides, the guy was very tall. And he had a beard.”

“Right. So tell me why you think Robertson isn’t Teddy Fay.”

“Instinct.”

“Uh-oh, instinct. You should never follow your instincts, darling. Let me guess, Robertson looks like Teddy.”

“He looks like the description of Teddy that Lance gave Holly Barker.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Come on, Billy, use your noodle a little; just consider it. What about Robertson conflicts with what’s known about Teddy Fay?”

Pepper was silent. “Teddy wouldn’t be stupid enough to use an identity that couldn’t be confirmed.”

“Nothing else, huh?”

“Not much.”

“Name some little thing about Robertson that conflicts with his being Teddy.”

“His identity doesn’t check out, okay? All right, nothing else, but nothing conflicts with his being Barney Cox, either.”

“Tell me, in your wildest dreams, who would you rather be responsible for bringing in: Barney Cox or Teddy Fay?”

“Well, Barney Cox, of course. If I brought in Teddy Fay, nobody would ever know; Langley would sit on it.”

“Lance would know, and if he gets the DDO job, that would be nice.”

“Yeah, but only Lance would know, and suppose he doesn’t get the job?”

“The director would know, and that means the president would know.”

“Why do you think that? You think Lance would tell her if I busted Teddy? He’d see that he and his acolyte, Barker, got the credit; then he’d get credit for sending her down here. And the director wouldn’t tell the president until he’s out of office. He wouldn’t want to know a thing like that.”

“You have a point.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe we’d get a nice transfer out of it?”

“What’s wrong with St. Marks? I’m working practically alone-ah, with the woman I love-in my very own country; I have nobody local breathing down my neck, except the guy at the embassy. And you’re having the time of your life; your tennis game has never been better.”

“If we were a couple of years from retirement, St. Marks would be heaven,” she said. “But we have careers ahead of us. In another year, Langley will forget we’re here, and we’ll be left to rot on the vine. But if you could make Robertson as Barney Cox, the Brits would love you for it; maybe you could join MI6.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you. Think of some way we can make hay out of Barney Cox.”

“If we were the police, we’d be world-famous in an instant, have our pictures in every newspaper in the world, but that’s not who we are, is it? If we’re responsible for busting Cox, only the Agency is going to know; Langley is not even going to tell the Brits.”

“They’d be very pleased if we busted Cox for the Brits. They could lord it over MI6 for years.”

“Well, there is that. All right, you want me to see what I can find out at the tennis club?”

“Does Robertson play tennis?”

“He’s a new member; I checked.”

“You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?”

“I only checked today. I win the blow job!” She shucked off her nightgown.

“Hang on, I don’t even remember what the bet was about. How do I know you won?”

She grabbed him by the hair and drew his face into her lap. “Trust me,” she said.

They forgot about calling Lance.