The Hadrian Memorandum

108

HOSPITAL DA UNIVERSIDADE. 10:52 A.M.

Marten reached the rear entrance and hesitated. He had no idea what to expect when he went in. A Lisbon police car had come down the alley from the opposite direction just as he’d started toward the entrance, and he’d had to draw back and wait. It had stopped at the door, and a uniformed officer had gone inside. It was a full ten minutes before he came out again and drove away past Marten. Why the police had stopped there, what had happened inside that had taken so long, he had no way of knowing. Conor White and the others aside, he’d had to remember that he was still wanted for the murder of Theo Haas. And, as the president had told him, both he and Anne were the prime suspects in the murder of Hauptkommissar Franck. The Portuguese police knew they had been in the Algarve the day before and might well suspect they were in Lisbon now. For all he knew the police visit to the hospital was one of many, giving the staff their description and instructions on what to do in the event either of them showed up. Still, he had little choice but to go ahead as planned, hoping that he was wrong about the police and that Anne was safely there and that Ryder and his RSO detail were either with her or on their way for the eleven o’clock encounter. With great trepidation he took a deep breath, then pulled open the door and went inside.

What he saw was a relatively small city hospital with corridors leading this way and that and people coming and going in any number of directions. A sign guided him toward the front of the building and to a waiting area where about a dozen people occupied its twenty-odd chairs. On the far side was a walk-up booth with two people behind it. One was a balding man, who fit Raisa’s description of Mário Gama, the hospital’s director of security. He was maybe fifty, wore a white shirt and a tie, gray slacks, and a dark green blazer, and was working at a computer terminal. Marten approached him.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a Mário Gama.”

The man looked up. “You found him, sir.”

“My name is Marten. Has a Ms.Tidrow or a Mr. Ferguson arrived? I’m from the American Insurance Company. We are to meet with Catarina Silva, the accounts receivable director.”

“Ms. Tidrow is here, sir. Mr. Ferguson has not yet arrived. Please come with me.”

“Thank you,” Marten said gratefully and followed him across the room and down a side hallway.

10:54 A.M.

Gama opened the door to a small examination room and ushered Marten in. Anne stood there, alone and waiting. He was surprised at the way her face lit up when he came in, as if she had been more than a little worried about him.

“Please excuse me,” Mário said and then left.

“What happened?” Anne asked as the door closed behind him.

“There was an accident. The motorcycle rider chased after you and Tomás in the truck. He was going very fast when he suddenly swerved to avoid something in the street.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“No.”

“But he’s dead.”

“I didn’t hang around long enough to find out.” Marten changed the subject. “No sign of Ryder.”

“Not yet.” Anne looked at him uncertainly, as if she wanted to tell him something but didn’t quite know how.

“What is it?”

“I-”

“Go on.”

“Earlier, I got a text message from Loyal Truex at Hadrian. I didn’t tell you because we were on the run and there was no reason. But you should know. Sy Wirth is dead. They found his body floating in the Tagus River, downstream, where it meets the Atlantic.”

“So he was here.”

“Apparently.”

“And with Conor White.”

“Probably.”

“White kill him?”

“I don’t think he slipped and fell. Put the pieces together. Sy made a stupid deal with the CIA to protect the Bioko field. Then he and Loyal brought in White and created SimCo. Things were fine until the pictures showed up. Then everything started to come apart. At some point Sy probably pushed too hard like he always did and stepped all over Conor in the process.”

“And that jeopardized the whole operation, and White, maybe at the Agency’s request, got rid of him.”

“I don’t know. I doubt if we’ll ever know. What’s clear is that they-Conor, Loyal, Sy, and the Agency-wanted to recover the pictures from the beginning. Now, they want more.”

“What does that mean?”

“I knew when I hacked in and found the memorandum that at some point they would learn about it. Not who did it, or from where, but that the site had been accessed and on what day and at what time. They know that on that day and at that time I was at the Hotel Lisboa Chiado, where the rooms have Internet access. They may not know I made a copy but will assume I’d tell you and Ryder what I found.

“The pictures were bad enough because they implicate Striker in the war. The memorandum implicates, even criminalizes, the CIA. And not just the Agency but the deputy director personally. Conor White has enough to lose as it is. Now he has this. If he is Agency, or even if he’s not, he’s got to protect it. He can’t go down as the soldier who was supposed to guard something as massive as the Bioko field but lost it and at the same time disgraced the CIA.

“If he was fired up before, it’s double that now. He’ll come after us with everything he has, and there are few better than he is. He knows what he’s doing and how to do it, and he has his people with him. There may well be others, too, like those doing surveillance outside Raisa’s building. High or low, Conor pays people well. But bottom line, he’s the one running things. And if he is CIA, they’re letting him do whatever he wants because it benefits them most of all. What he wants is us dead and every piece of evidence we have recovered and destroyed. He can, and probably will, be very, very violent and won’t shy away from any means necessary to achieve his ends. That’s his training and the reason for all those medals. If he learns where we are he’ll kill everyone in this hospital if has to just to get to us. I-”

Suddenly there was a noise at the door. Immediately Marten’s hand went to the Glock in his waistband. Then the door opened and a man in a tan business suit and carrying a briefcase entered.

“Please don’t, Mr. Marten.” He turned the briefcase toward him. “It’s not necessary. I’m Special Agent Birns, Congressman Ryder’s RSO detail, half of it anyway.” He glanced at Anne and then around the room, then stepped back. “It’s alright, Congressman.”

A half second later Joe Ryder walked into the room; his look-alike, Tim Grant, followed him.

11:00 A.M.