Destiny

FORTY-SIX

Bill Gray wasn’t looking forward to the meeting. The phone call had been abrupt, almost accusatory. How long had it been since he’d seen his former Georgetown classmate? Four, maybe five years? Gray sat on a park bench overlooking the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool and waited for Liam Berenson to arrive. The wind across the water was cold, the surface of the pool rippling like aged skin over the dark pewter water. Gray watched a leaf fall from a cherry tree, one of the few leaves remaining in the tree as nature stripped down for the change of seasons.

“Right on time, as usual.”

Gray turned around as Berenson approached. He sat on the bench, glanced at Gray and said, “Good to see you, Bill.”

“How’s the CIA treating you?”

“Probably not as good as NSA is treating you.”

“What’s this about, Liam? Neither of us is in the field anymore.”

Berenson’s narrow face was wind-burned, his cheeks flushed. He looked over the tops of his glasses, his eyes watery, gunmetal grey irises intent. He said, “Paul Marcus has or may be turning.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been following one of Iran’s best operatives. She has half a dozen aliases, of course, but her real name is Taheera Khalili. One of her emails, after bouncing from servers all over the world, went to a cell phone we traced to Paul Marcus.”

“If Paul received a message from this operative, it’s probably because it has something to do with what he’s doing, which is the last thing from some kind of breach.”

“What’s he working on, Bill? Beyond the cry of wolf in the alleged assassination attempt of the prime minister, less than a few hundred yards from where we’re sitting right now, what’s he really doing there? No one in all the channels of protocol is completely clued in to what our controversial Nobel Prize guy is doing…except you. Why the hell is one of NSA’s best former cryptographers contacting an Iranian field agent?”

“She probably solicited him. Paul’s no hack. I told you that he’s researching some lost papers from Isaac Newton that were donated to the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. He’s there by invitation. The Iranians, for that matter, and most covert agencies know who he is and now probably where he is, too. I’ve asked Paul to keep his ears and eyes open, that’s all. It’s that simple.”

“Not anymore. You reel him in, and do it quickly, or we’ll have him shipped back to Langley.”

“What’s going on, Liam? Who’s making this call and why?”

“Do us both a favor and bring Marcus in for a thorough debriefing.” Berenson nodded, got up, and left. He walked fast by the reflecting pool, a flock of pigeons scattering beneath his brown wingtip shoes.