The Alexandria Link

THIRTY-SIX

WASHINGTON, DC

STEPHANIE WASN’T SURE SHE COULD TAKE MUCH MORE. HER gaze locked onto Brent Green. “Explain yourself.”

“We allowed the files to be compromised. There’s a traitor among us and we want him. Or her.”

“Who’s we?”

“The Justice Department. It’s a top-secret investigation. Only myself and two others know. My two closest deputies, and I’d place my life in their hands.”

“Liars couldn’t care less about your faith.”

“Agreed. But the leak isn’t in Justice. It’s higher. Outside the department. We dangled bait and it was taken.”

She could not believe what she was hearing. “And you risked Gary Malone’s life in the process.”

“No one could have predicted that. We had no idea anyone, other than the Israelis and the Saudis, gave a damn about George Haddad. The leak we’re trying to plug runs straight to them, not anywhere else.”

“That you know of.” Her thoughts flooded with the Order of the Golden Fleece.

“If I had possessed any clue that Malone’s family was in danger, I would never have allowed the tactic to be used.”

She wanted to believe that.

“We actually thought Haddad’s whereabouts was a relatively harmless piece of information. Allowing the Israelis to know Haddad was alive didn’t seem that risky, especially since there was nothing in the file to indicate where he was hidden.”

“Except a trail straight to Cotton.”

“And we assumed that, if challenged, Malone would know what to do.”

“He’s out, Brent,” she almost shouted. “He doesn’t work for us anymore. We don’t place ex-operatives in danger, especially without their knowledge.”

“We weighed those risks and decided that to find our leak, they were worth taking. Having the boy kidnapped changed everything. I’m glad Cotton was able to retrieve him.”

“That’s so wonderful of you. You’ll be lucky he doesn’t break your nose.”

“This White House is an abomination,” Green muttered. “Bunch of righteous, corrupt pricks.”

She’d never heard Green speak that way before.

“They expound how Christian they are, how American, but their allegiance is only to themselves-and the dollar. Decision after decision has been made, each one clothed in an American flag, that does nothing but fatten the pockets of major corporations-entities that have contributed heavily to their party cause. It sickens me. I sit in meetings where policy is couched in terms of what’s good television, rather than what’s good for the nation. I keep silent. Say nothing. Be a team player. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow this country to be compromised. I took an oath, and unlike many in this administration, mine means something to me.”

“So why not expose them for what they are?”

“So far I’m not aware that anyone has broken the law. Disgusting, immoral, greedy? I’ve seen those, but they’re not illegal. I assure you, if anyone, the president included, had crossed the line, I would have acted. But no one has gone that far.”

“Except the leak.”

“Which is precisely why I’m so interested-a dam has to be cracked before it’ll break.”

She wasn’t fooled. “Let’s face it, Brent, you like being the chief law enforcement officer, and you wouldn’t last long if you went after one of them and failed.”

Green appraised her, worry in his eyes. “I like you remaining alive more.”

She brushed away his concern. “Did you find the leak?”

“I believe we-”

Cassiopeia rushed back into the kitchen. “We’ve got company. Two men just wheeled to the curb. Suits and earpieces. Secret Service.”

“My detail,” Green said. “Coming to check for the night.”

“We need to go,” Cassiopeia made clear.

“No,” Green said. “Cut me loose and I’ll handle them.”

Cassiopeia headed for the back door.

Stephanie made a decision, the kind she’d made a hundred thousand times. And even though she’d clearly chosen horribly throughout the day, like her daddy used to say, Right, wrong, doesn’t matter. Just do something.

“Wait.”

Stephanie stepped to the counter and searched a couple of drawers, finding a knife. “We’re cutting him loose.” She approached Green and said, “I hope I know what I’m doing.”

SABRE HUSTLED THROUGH THE OXFORDSHIRE WOODS TO WHERE he’d left his car. Dawn was coming to the English countryside. Mist shrouded the fields around him, the cool air damp. He was pleased with his first encounter with Cotton Malone. Just enough to whet the American’s curiosity, while satisfying any paranoia. Killing the men he’d hired to attack Malone had seemed a perfect introduction. He would have shot all three if Malone hadn’t taken down the one.

Surely Malone had searched the bodies after he left, but Sabre had made certain that not one of the men carried identification. His instructions had been for them to confront Malone and pin him down. But once Malone eliminated the first of their number, the game had changed. He wasn’t surprised. Malone had proven in Copenhagen that he knew how to handle himself.

Thank heaven for the tape recorder in Haddad’s apartment. That, combined with the information from the computer, had schooled him enough so he could entice Malone into his confidence. All he had to do now was return to the Savoy and wait.

Malone would come.

He emerged from the forest and spotted his car. Another vehicle was parked behind it and he saw his operative pacing.

“You son of a bitch,” she screamed. “You killed those men.”

“And the problem?”

“I hired them. How many others you think I can employ if it’s known we bloody well kill our own?”

“Who would know that? Besides you and me.”

“You asshole. I watched from outside. You shot them from behind. They never saw it coming. That’s what you intended all along.”

He reached his car. “You always were bright.”

“Screw you, Dominick. Those men were friends of mine.”

Now he was curious. “You sleep with any of them?”

“None of your damn business.”

He shrugged. “You’re right.”

“I’m through with you. No more. Get yourself another helper.” She stormed toward her car.

“Don’t think so,” he called out.

She whirled to face him, expecting a rebuke. They’d argued before. But this time he shot her in the face.

Nothing and no one was going to interfere. Too much effort had gone into what he’d planned. He was about to double-cross one of the most powerful economic cartels on the planet. Failure would come with dire consequences. So he wasn’t going to fail. There would be no trails left to him.

He opened the car door and slid inside.

Only Cotton Malone remained to be handled.

STEPHANIE STOOD IN THE KITCHEN, CASSIOPEIA BESIDE HER, and listened as Brent Green answered the front door and spoke with the two Secret Service agents. Either she’d guessed right or they’d shortly be arrested.

“This is foolishness,” Cassiopeia whispered.

“It’s my foolishness, and I didn’t ask you or Henrik to get involved.”

“You’re a stubborn bitch.”

“Look who’s talking. You could have left. I’d say you’re a bit stubborn yourself.”

She listened as Green small-talked about the night weather and how he’d spilled a tumbler of water on his robe. She’d freed Green from the chair and watched in amusement as he’d peeled tape from his wrists and ankles. What the late-night comedians would have given to see him wince as the hair on his arms and legs came away with each tug. But the New Englander had promptly smoothed his wet hair and emerged from the kitchen.

She heard again what Green had said with genuine conviction.

This friend particularly cares what happens to you.

“He sells us out and we’re through,” Cassiopeia whispered.

“He won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Twenty years of mistakes.”

Green finally told the agents good night. She eased open the swinging door and watched as Green gathered a parting glimpse through the louvers. He turned toward her and said, “Satisfied?”

She walked through the dining room. Cassiopeia followed.

“Okay, Brent. What now?”

“Together we’re going to save your hide and at the same time plug the leak.”

“And by the way, you never mentioned who it is.”

“No. I didn’t. Because I don’t know.”

“I thought you said you’d identified the person?”

“What I started to say was that I believe we might have the problem identified.”

“I’m waiting.”

“You’re not going to like this.”

“Try me.”

“At the moment, the Israelis’ main conduit is Pam Malone.”