Command Authority

50

CIA analyst Jack Ryan arrived at Century House with his bags packed for his trip to Switzerland. He had to be at Heathrow at noon, so he figured he would put in an hour and a half of work before carrying his suitcase back downstairs and climbing into a cab.

His first task of the day was to call David Penright in Zug, to see if he’d received the documents from Morningstar and to check for any final instructions from the English spy in the field.

He had just returned to his desk with his first cup of coffee of the morning, ready to fire up his STU for the call, when the director of the Russian Working Group, Simon Harding, hurried into his office. “Charleston needs you in his office, straightaway.”

Jack could see consternation on Harding’s face.

“What is it?”

“Just go, mate.”

Minutes later, Jack stepped out of the elevator into the director’s corner office. On the ride up, he ran a dozen possible scenarios through his head, but he admitted to himself he couldn’t imagine what had Harding so agitated.

Charleston stood at his desk with a half-dozen other men around him, none of whom Ryan recognized. As soon as he turned around and saw Ryan, Basil said, “Sit down, Jack.”

Jack moved to the sofa, and Basil sat in front of him. No introductions had been made of the other men.

“What’s wrong?”

“Terrible news, I’m afraid. David Penright… is dead.”

Jack felt a hot stab to his stomach as acid churned. “Oh my God.”

“We just learned of it.”

A wave of confusion washed over Ryan. “What the hell happened?”

“Hit by a bloody bus.”

“A bus?”

One of the other men came forward and sat down across from Ryan. He said, “They are going to find that he’d been drinking. Like most traveling officers, he tipped the bottle more than he should have.”

“I… I talked to him last night. He was fine.”

The man said, “He left the safe house in Zug at nine p.m. Immediately after talking to you, from what I gather. Then he met with Morningstar. After that, he hit the local bars.”

“Who are you?” Jack asked.

Basil cleared his throat. “Jack Ryan, Nick Eastling. Counterintelligence Division.”

The men shook hands, though Ryan was still in a state of shock.

Eastling nodded to the other men by the window. “That’s the rest of my team over there.”

The five men by the window just looked Jack’s way.

Jack turned to Basil for clarification, and Basil said, “Nick and his team will be investigating David’s death. The Swiss are well on their way to determining this was an accident, but our Zurich station will reach out to them to make sure their investigation ends quickly and quietly, so that ours can begin in earnest.”

Eastling said, “We’ll find the same thing. There were witnesses to the fact Penright came out of a beer hall about half past midnight, walked out into the street to flag a taxi, and then stumbled out of the empty lane and right in front of oncoming traffic. He was run over by a public transport bus. The bus driver is cooperating, to the extent he could. The Swiss say he was horrified by the experience.”

Jack was as incredulous as this Eastling fellow was certain. “You actually believe that story?”

Eastling said, “It wasn’t an assassination. Obviously, when we get the body back we will do a toxicology test on him, but my feeling is they will find he’d had enough gin to where the only mystery in his death will be how the hell he managed to climb off his bar stool and make it out the front door.” The man winced a little, as though he did not want to speak ill of the dead, but then he said, “David had a problem.”

Ryan turned away from the counterintel man and asked Charleston, “Does Morningstar know Penright is dead?”

“No. Penright was carrying false identity papers, in the name Nathan Michaels. This sort of death will make the news over there, but the newspapers will identify him as the alias he was traveling under. Morningstar won’t recognize it.”

“You’ve got to let Morningstar know.”

Basil said, “That has not been decided. We don’t want to alarm him unnecessarily.”

“Unnecessarily? People are dying all around him.”

Eastling cleared his throat. “There have been two deaths. Neither of which we have been able to link to any compromise of Morningstar.”

Basil added, “These gentlemen will be heading over to launch an investigation. I’ve spoken to James Greer and Arthur Moore at Langley. We would like you to go along with them.”

The thought of not going to Switzerland had not occurred to him. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Eastling appeared decidedly unhappy with this decision, but he did not say anything.

Charleston said, “Excellent. We will make a determination as to how Morningstar will be run as soon as the investigation into David’s death is concluded. For now, at least, we will not go near Morningstar, so there is no potential for compromise.”

Ryan just nodded. This was a lot to take in.

Eastling stood. “All right, Ryan. Off you go. I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour. I have some more to discuss with Sir Basil.”

And with that, Nick Eastling all but shoved Jack Ryan out of the office.