The Icarus Agenda

Chapter 24

Kendrick stood by the windows overlooking the wide, circular drive in front of the sterile house. Dennison had called him well over an hour ago with word that the plane from Cairo had landed and the Rashad woman been taken to a waiting government car; she was on her way to Cynwid Hollow under escort. The chief of staff wanted Evan to know that the CIA case officer had strenuously objected when she was not permitted to make a telephone call from Andrews Air Force Base.

'She kicked up a stink and refused to get in the car,' Dennison had complained. 'She said she hadn't heard directly from her superiors and the Air Force could go pound sand. Goddamned bitch! I was on my way to work and they reached me on the limo phone. You know what she said to me? “Who the hell are you?” That's what she said to me! Then to twist the knife, she holds the phone away and asks out loud, “What's a Dennison?”.'

'It's that modest low profile you keep, Herb. Did anybody tell her?'

'The bastards laughed! That's when I told her she was under the President's orders and she either got in that car or she could spend five years in Leavenworth.'

'It's a men's prison.'

'I know that. Heh! She'll be there in an hour or so. Remember, if she's the sieve I get her.'

'Maybe.'

‘I’ll get a presidential order!'

'And I'll read it on the nightly news. With footnotes.'

'Shit!'

Kendrick had started to leave the window for another cup of coffee when a nondescript grey car appeared at the base of the circular drive. It swept around the curve and stopped in front of the stone steps, where an Air Force major swiftly got out of the far backseat. He walked rapidly round and opened the curbside door for his official passenger.

The woman Evan had known as Khalehla emerged into the morning sunlight, squinting at the brightness, disturbed and unsure. She was hatless, her dark hair hanging to her shoulders over a white jacket above green slacks and low-heeled shoes. Under her right arm she clutched a large white handbag. As Kendrick watched her the memory of that late afternoon in Bahrain came back to him. He recalled the shock he had felt when she walked through the door of the bizarre royal bedroom amused that he had raced back for the cover of the bed sheet. And how, despite his panic, bewilderment and pain—or perhaps adding to all three—he had been struck by the cool loveliness of her sharply defined Euro-Arabian face and the glare of intelligence in her eyes.

He had been right; she was a striking woman who carried herself erect, almost defiantly, even now as she walked towards the massive door of the sterile house where inside she would face the unknown. Kendrick observed her dispassionately; there was no rush of remembered warmth in his reaction to her, only cold, intense curiosity. She had lied to him that late afternoon in Bahrain, lied both by what she said and what she did not say. He wondered if she would lie to him again.

The Air Force major opened the door of the enormous living room for Adrienne Rashad. She walked in and stopped, standing motionless, staring at Evan by the window. There was no astonishment in her eyes, just that frigid glare of intellect.

'I'll be going,' said the Air Force officer.

'Thank you, Major.' The door closed and Kendrick stepped forward. 'Hello, Khalehla. It was Khalehla, wasn't it?'

'Whatever you say,' she replied calmly.

'But then it isn't Khalehla, is it? It's Adrienne—Adrienne Rashad.'

'Whatever you say,' she repeated.

'That's a little redundant, isn't it?'

'And all this is very stupid, Congressman. Did you have me flown back here to give you another testimonial? Because if you did, I won't do it.'

'Testimonial? That's the last thing I want.'

'Good, I'm glad for you. I'm sure the representative from Colorado has all the endorsements he needs. So there's no need for someone whose life and the lives of a great many colleagues depend on anonymity to step forward and add to your swelling cheers.'

'That's what you think? I want endorsements, cheers?'

'What am I to think? That you took me away from my work, exposed me to the embassy and the Air Force, probably crippled a cover I've developed over the past several years just because I went to bed with you? It happened once, but I assure you it will never happen again.'

'Hey, wait a minute, bright lady,' protested Evan. 'I wasn't looking for any fast action. For Christ's sake, I didn't know where I was or what had happened, or what would happen next. I was scared stiff, and knew I had things to do that I didn't think I could do.'

'You were also exhausted,' added Adrienne Rashad. 'I was, too. It happens.'

'That's what Swann said—’

'That bastard.'

'No, hold it. Frank Swann's not a bastard—’

'Shall I use another word? Like pimp? An unconscionable pimp.'

'You're wrong. I don't know what your business was with him but he had a job to do.'

'Like sacrificing you?'

'Maybe… I admit the thought's not too attractive but he was pretty well boxed in then.'

'Forget it, Congressman. Why am I here?'

'Because I have to learn something, and you're the only one left who can tell me.'

'What is it?'

'Who broke the story on me? Who violated the agreement I made? I was told that those who knew I went to Oman and they were damn few, a tight little circle they called it—none of them would have any reason to do it and every reason in the world not to. Apart from Swann and his computer chief, whom he swears by, there were only seven people in the entire government who knew. Six have been checked out, all absolutely negative. You're the seventh, the only one left.'

Adrienne Rashad stood motionless, her face passive, her eyes furious. 'You ignorant, arrogant amateur,' she said slowly, her voice acid.

'You can call me any goddamned names you like,' began Evan angrily, 'but I'm going to—’

'May we go for a walk, Congressman?' broke in the woman from Cairo, crossing to a large bay window on the other side of the room that looked over a dock to the rocky shoreline of the Chesapeake.

'What?'

'The air in here is as oppressive as the company. I'd like to take a walk, please.' Rashad raised her hand and pointed outside; she then nodded her head twice as if reinforcing a command.

'All right,' mumbled Kendrick, bewildered. 'There's a side entrance back there.'

'I see it,' said Adrienne-Khalehla, moving towards the door at the rear of the room. They walked outside on to a flagstone patio that joined a manicured lawn and a path leading down to the dock. If there had been boats lashed to the pilings or secured to the empty moorings bouncing on the water beyond, they had been removed for the autumn winds. 'Keep up your harangue, Congressman,' continued the undercover case officer for the CIA. 'You shouldn't be deprived of that.'

'Just hold it, Miss Rashad or whatever the hell your name is!' Evan stopped on the white concrete path halfway to the shoreline. 'If you think what I'm talking about amounts to a “harangue”, you're sadly mistaken—'

'For God's sake, keep walking! You'll get all the conversation you want, more than you want, you damn fool.' The bay shore to the right of the dock was a mixture of dark sand ands tones so common to the Chesapeake; to the left was the boathouse, also common. What was not common, however, except to the larger estates, was a profusion of tall trees some fifty yards both north and south of the dock and the boat-house. They provided a measure of privacy, more in appearance than in reality, but the sight of them had appealed to the field agent from Cairo. She headed to the right, over the sand and the stones close to the gently lapping waves. They passed the border of trees and kept going until they reached a large rock that rose out of the ground by the water's edge. Above, the immense house could not be seen. 'This'll do,' said Adrienne Rashad.

'Do?' exclaimed Kendrick. 'What was that little exercise all afeowf? And while we're at it let's get a couple of things straight. I appreciate the fact that you probably saved my life—probably, not by any manner of means provable—but I don't take orders from you, and in my considered opinion I'm not a damn fool, and regardless of my amateur status you're answering to me, I'm not answering to you! Check and double check, lady?'

'Are you finished?'

'I haven't even begun.'

'Then before you do, let me address the specifics you've just raised. That little exercise was to get us out of there. I presume you know it's a safe house.'

'Certainly.'

'And that anything you say in every room, including the toilet and the shower, is recorded.'

'Well, I knew the telephone was—’

'Thank you, Mr. Amateur.'

'I don't have a damn thing to hide—'

'Keep your voice down. Talk into the water as I am.'

'What? Why?'

'Electronic voice surveillance. The trees will distort sound because there's no direct visual beam—’

'What?'

'Lasers have improved the technology—’

'What?'

'Shut up! Whisper.'

'I repeat, I haven't got a damn thing to hide. Maybe you do, but I don't!'

'Really?' asked Rashad, leaning against the huge rock and talking down into the small, slowly encroaching waves. 'You want to involve Ahmat?'

'I've mentioned him. To the President. He should know how much help that kid was—'

'Oh, Ahmat will appreciate that. And his personal doctor? And his two cousins who helped you and protected you? And El-Baz, and the pilot who flew you to Bahrain?… They could all be killed.'

'Apart from Ahmat, I never mentioned anyone specifically—'

'Names are irrelevant. Functions aren't.'

'For Christ's sake, it was the President of the United States!'

'And contrary to rumours, he does communicate beyond a microphone?'

'Of course.'

'Do you know who he talks to? Do you know them personally? Do you know how reliable they are in terms of maximum security; does he? Do you know the men who are on the listening devices up in that house?'

'Of course not.'

'What about me? I'm a field officer with an acceptable cover in Cairo. Would you have talked about me?'

'I did, but only to Swann.'

'I'm not referring to what you did with someone in authority who knew everything because he was the control, I'm talking about up there. If you started questioning me up in that house, mightn't you have brought up any or all the people I've just mentioned? And to break the bank, Mr. Amateur, isn't it conceivable that you might have mentioned the Mossad?'

Evan closed his eyes. 'I might have,' he said softly, nodding. 'If we'd got into an argument.'

'An argument was unavoidable, which is why I got us out and came down here.'

'Everyone up there is on our side!' protested Kendrick. I'm sure they are,' agreed Adrienne, 'but we don't know the strengths or the weaknesses of people we've never met and can't see, do we?'

'You're paranoid.'

'It goes with the territory, Congressman. Furthermore, you are a damn fool, as I think I've amply demonstrated by your lack of knowledge about safe houses. I'll skip the question as to who gives orders to whom because it's irrelevant, and go back to your first point. In all likelihood I did not save your life in Bahrain, but instead, because of that bastard Swann, put you in an untenable position we and certain pilots call the point of no return. You were not expected to survive, Mr. Kendrick, and I did object to that.'

'Why?'

'Because I cared.'

'Because u>e—'

'That, too, is irrelevant. You were a decent man trying to do a decent thing for which you weren't equipped. As it turned out, there were others who helped you far more than I ever could. I sat in Jimmy Grayson's office and we were both relieved when we got word you were airborne out of Bahrain.'

'Gray son? He was one of the seven who knew I was there.'

'Not until the last hours, he didn't,' said Rashad. 'Even I wouldn't tell him. It had to come from Washington.'

'In White House language, he was put on the spit yesterday morning.'

'For what?'

'To see if he was the one who leaked my name.'

'Jimmy? That's even more stupid than thinking it was me. Grayson wants a directorship so badly he can taste it. Also, he doesn't care to have his throat slit and his body mutilated any more than I do.'

'You say those words very easily. They come quickly to you, maybe too quickly.'

'About Jimmy?'

'No. About yourself.'

'I see.' The woman who had called herself Khalehla moved away from the rock. 'You think I've rehearsed all this—with myself, of course, because I damn well couldn't reach anyone else. And, of course, I'm half Arab—'

'You walked into the room up there as if you expected to see me. I wasn't any surprise to you.'

'I did, and you weren't.'

'Why and why not? On both counts?'

'Process of elimination, I suppose—and an arrangement, a man I know who protects me from real surprises. For the last day and a half, you've been hot news throughout the Mediterranean, Congressman, and a lot of people are shaking, including myself. Not only for myself but for many others I used and misused to keep you in sight. Someone like me builds a network based on trust, and right now that trust, my most vital commodity, has been called into question. So you see, Mr. Kendrick, you've wasted not only my time and my concentration but a great deal of the taxpayers' money to bring me back here for a question any experienced intelligence officer could answer.'

'You could have sold me, sold my name for a price.'

'For what? My life? For the lives of those I used to track you, men who are important to me and the work I do—work I think has real value which I tried to explain to you in Bahrain? You really believe that?'

'Oh, Jesus, I don't know what to believe!' admitted Evan, expelling his breath and shaking his head. 'Everything I wanted to do, everything I'd planned, has been thrown out in the garbage. Ahmat doesn't want to see me again, I can't go back—there or anywhere else in the Emirates or the Gulfs. He'll see to it.'

'You wanted to go back?'

'More than anything. I wanted to take up my life again where I did my best work. But first I had to find and get rid of a son of a bitch who'd crippled everything, killed for the sake of killing—so many.'

'The Mahdi,' interrupted Rashad, nodding. 'Ahmat told me. You did it. Ahmat's young and he'll change. In time he'll understand what you did for everyone over there and be grateful… But you just answered a question. You see, I thought that you might have blown the story yourself, but you didn't, did you?'

'Me? You're out of your mind! I'm getting out of here in six months!'

'There's no political ambition, then?'

'Christ, no! I'm packing it in, I'm leaving! Only now I have nowhere to go. Someone's trying to stop me, making me into something I'm not. What the hell is happening to me?'

'Offhand I'd say you were being exhumed.'

'Being what? By whom?

'By someone who thinks you were slighted. Someone who believes you deserve public acclaim, prominence.'

'Which I don't want! And the President isn't helping. He's awarding me the Medal of Freedom next Tuesday in the goddamned Blue Room with the whole Marine Band! I told him I didn't want it, and the son of a bitch said I had to show up because he refused to look like a “chintzy bastard”. What kind of reasoning is that?

'Very presidential…' Rashad suddenly stopped. 'Let's walk,' she said quickly as two white-suited members of the staff appeared at the base of the dock. 'Don't look around. Be casual. We'll just stroll down this poor excuse for a beach.'

'May I talk?' asked Kendrick as he fell in step.

'Not anything germane. Wait till we get around the bend.'

'Why? Can they hear us?'

'Possibly. I'm not really sure.' They followed the curve of the shoreline until the trees obscured the two men on the dock. 'The Japanese have developed directional relays, although I've never seen one,' continued Rashad aimlessly. Then she stopped again and looked up at Evan, her intelligent eyes questioning. 'You spoke to Ahmat?' she asked.

'Yesterday. He told me to go to hell but not to go back to Oman. Ever.'

'You understand that I'll check with him, don't you?'

Evan was suddenly astonished, then angry. She was questioning him, accusing him, checking up on him. 'I don't give damn what you do, my only concern is what you may have done. You're convincing, Kahlehla—excuse me, Miss Rashad—and you may believe what you say, but the six men who knew about me had everything to lose and not a goddamned thing to gain by saying that I was in Masqat last year.'

'And I had nothing to lose but my life and the lives of those I've cultivated throughout the sector, some of whom, incidentally, are very dear to me? Stop that tired old argument, Congressman, you sound ridiculous. You're not only an amateur, you're insufferable.'

'You know, it's possible you could have made a mistake!.' cried Kendrick, exasperated. 'I'd almost be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, I implied as much to Dennison and told him I wouldn't let him hang you for it.'

'Oh, you're too kind, sir.'

'No, I meant it. You did save my life, and if you made a slip and dropped my name—'

'Don't compound your asininity,' Rashad broke in. 'It's far, far more likely that any five of the others might have made a slip like that than either Grayson or myself. We live in the field; we don't make that kind of mistake.'

'Let's walk,' said Evan, no guards in sight, only his doubts and his confusion forcing him to move. His problem was that he believed her, believed what Manny Weingrass said about her:… she had nothing to do with exposing you… it would only add to her shame and further inflame the crazy world she lives in. And when Kendrick protested that the others couldn't have, Manny had added: Then there are others beyond others… They came to a rough track that led up through the trees apparently to the stone wall bordering the estate. 'Shall we explore?' asked Evan.

'Why not?' said Adrienne coldly.

'Look,' he continued as they climbed the wooded slope side by side, 'say I believe you—'

'Thank you so much.'

'All right, I do believe you! And because I do I'm going to tell you something that only Swann and Dennison know; the others don't, at least I don't think they do.'

'Are you sure you should?'

'I need help and they can't help me. Maybe you can; you were there—with me—and you know so many things I don't know. How events are kept quiet, how secret information is passed to those who should have it, procedures like that.'

'I know some, not all by any means. I'm based in Cairo, not here. But go ahead.'

'Some time ago a man came to see Swann, a blond man with a European accent who had a great deal of information about me—Frank called it PD.'

'Prior data,' said Rashad, interrupting. 'It's also called “privileged detail”, and usually comes from the vaults.'

'Vaults? What vaults?'

'It's the vernacular for classified intelligence files. Go on.'

'After impressing Frank, really impressing him, he came right out and made his point. He told Swann that he had concluded that I'd been sent to Masqat by the State Department during the hostage crisis.'

'What?' She exploded, her hand on Kendrick's arm. 'Who was he?'

'Nobody knows. No one can find him. The identity he used to get to Frank was false.'

'Good Christ,' whispered Rashad as she looked up at the ascending path; bright sunlight broke through the wall of trees above. 'We'll stay here for a moment,' she said quietly, urgently. 'Sit down.' They both lowered themselves on to the track surrounded by thick trunks and foliage. 'And?' pressed the woman from Cairo.

'Well, Swann tried to throw him off; he even showed him a note to the Secretary of State that we both mocked up rejecting me. Obviously the man didn't believe Frank and kept digging, deeper and deeper until he got it all. What came out yesterday morning was so accurate it could only have come from the Oman file—from the vaults, as you call them.'

'I know that,' whispered Rashad, her anger indelibly mixed with fear. 'My God, someone was reached!'

'One of the seven—six? he amended quickly.

'Who were they? I don't mean Swann and his OHIO-Four-Zero computer man, but apart from Dennison, Grayson and me?'

'The secretaries of State and Defense, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.'

'None of them could even be approached.'

'What about the computer man? His name is Bryce, Gerald Bryce, and he's young. Frank swore by him but that's only his judgment.'

'I doubt it. Frank Swann's a bastard, but I don't think he could be fooled that way. Someone like Bryce is the first person you'd think of, and if he's smart enough to run that kind of operation, he knows it. He also knows he could face thirty years in Leavenworth.'

Evan smiled. 'I understand Dennison threatened you with five years there.'

'I told him it was a men's prison,' said Adrienne, responding with a grin.

'So did I,' said Kendrick, laughing.

'So then I said if he had any more goodies in store for me, I wouldn't get in Cleopatra's barge, never mind the government car.'

'Why did you get in?'

'Sheer curiosity. It's the only answer I can give you.'

'I accept it… So where are we? The seven are out and a blond European is in.'

'I don't know.' Suddenly Rashad touched his arm again. 'I've got to ask you some questions, Evan—’

'Evan? Thank you.'

'I'm sorry. Congressman. That was a slip.'

'Don't be, please. I think we're entitled to first names.'

'Now you stop—’

'But do you mind if I call you Khalehla? I'm more comfortable with it.'

'So am I. The Arab part of me has always resented the deniability of Adrienne.'

'Ask your questions—Khalehla.'

'At least you're not pronouncing it “Cawleyla”… All right. When did you decide to come to Masqat? Considering the circumstances and what you were able to do, you were late getting there.'

Kendrick took a deep breath. 'I'd been riding the rapids in Arizona when I reached a base camp called Lava Falls and heard a radio for the first time in several weeks. I knew I had to get to Washington…' Evan recounted the details of those frantic eight hours going from a comparatively primitive campsite in the mountains to the halls of the State Department and finally down to the sophisticated computer complex that was OHIO-Four-Zero. 'That's where Swann and I made our agreement and I was off and running.'

'Let's go back a minute,' said Khalehla, only at that moment taking her eyes off Kendrick's face. 'You hired a river plane to take you to Flagstaff, where you tried to charter a jet to DC, is that right?'

'Yes, but the charter desk said it was too late.'

'You were anxious,' suggested the field agent. 'Probably angry. You must have thrown your weight around a bit. A congressman from the great state of Colorado, et cetera.'

'More than a bit—and lots more of the et cetera.'

'You reached Phoenix and got the first commercial flight out. How did you pay for your ticket?'

'Credit card.'

'Bad form,' said Khalehla, 'but you had no reason to think so. How did you know whom to reach at the State Department?'

'I didn't, but remember I'd worked in Oman and the Emirates for years, so I knew the sort of person I wanted to find. And since I had inherited an experienced DC secretary who had the instincts of an alley cat, I told her what to look for. I made it clear that it would undoubtedly be someone in the State's Consular Operations, Middle East or Southwest Asia sections. Most Americans who've worked over there are familiar with those people—frequently up to their teeth.'

'So this secretary with the instincts of an alley cat began calling around asking questions. That must have raised a few eyebrows. Did she keep a list of whom she called?'

'I don't know. I never asked her. Everything was kind of frantic and I kept in touch with her on one of those air-to-ground phones during the flight from Phoenix. By the time I landed she had narrowed the possibilities down to four or five men, but only one was considered an expert on the Emirates and he was also a deputy director of Cons Op. Frank Swann.'

'It would be interesting to know if your secretary did keep a list,' said Khalehla, arching her neck, thinking.

'I'll phone her.'

'Not from here you won't. Besides, I'm not finished… So you went to State to find Swann, which means you checked in with security.'

'Naturally.'

'Did you check out?'

'Well no, not actually, not at the lobby desk. Instead, I was taken down to the parking area and driven home in a State Department car.'

'To your house?'

'Yes, I was on my way to Oman and had to get some things together—’

'What about the driver?' interrupted Khalehla. 'Did he address you by name?'

'No, never. But he did say something that shook me. I asked him if he wanted to come in for a snack or coffee while I packed, and he said, “I might get shot if I got out of this car,” or words to that effect. Then he added, “You're from OHIO-Four-Zero.'”

'Which means he wasn't,' said Rashad quickly. 'And you were in front of your house?'

'Yes. Then I stepped out and saw another car about a hundred feet behind us at the curb. It must have been following us; there are no other houses on that stretch of road.'

'An armed escort.' Khalehla nodded. 'Swann covered you from minute-one and he was right. He didn't have the time or the resources to trace everything that had happened to you minus-one.'

Evan was bewildered. 'Would you mind explaining that?'

'Minus-one is before you reached Swann. A rich, angry congressman using a chartered plane to Flagstaff makes a lot of noise about getting to Washington. He's turned down, so he flies to Phoenix, where he no doubt insists on the first flight out and pays with a credit card, and starts calling his secretary, who has the instincts of an alley cat, telling her to find a man he doesn't know but is sure exists at the Department of State. She makes her calls—frantically, I think you said—reaching a number of people who have to wonder why. She gets you a narrowed-down quorum—which means she's reached a lot of her contacts who could give her the information and who also had to wonder why, and you turn up at State demanding to see Frank Swann. Am I right? In your state of mind, did you demand to see him?'

'Yes. I was given a run-around, told he wasn't there, but I knew he was, my secretary had confirmed it. I guess I was pretty adamant. Finally, they let me go up to his office.'

'Then after you talked with him he made his decision to send you to Masqat.'

'So?'

'That tight little circle you spoke of wasn't very little or very tight, Evan. You did what anyone else would do under the circumstances—under the stress you felt. You left a number of impressions during that agitated journey from Lava Falls to Washington. You could easily be traced back through Phoenix to Flagstaff, your name and your loud insistence on fast transportation remembered by a lot of people, especially because of the time of night. Then you show up at the State Department, where you made more noises—incidentally, checking in with security but not checking out—until you were permitted to go up to Swann's office.'

'Yes, but—’

'Let me finish, please,' interrupted Khalehla again. 'You'll understand, and I want us both to have the full picture… You and Swann talk, make your agreement of anonymity, and as you said, you're off and running to Masqat. The first leg was made to your house with a driver who was not part of OHIO-Four-Zero any more than the guards in the lobby. The driver was simply assigned by a dispatcher and the guards on duty were merely doing their jobs. They're not in the rarefied circles; nobody up there brings them in on top secret agendas. But they're human; they go home and talk to their wives and their friends because something different happened in their normally dull jobs. They might also answer questions casually put to them by people they thought were government bureaucrats.'

'And one way or another they all knew who I was—’

'As did a lot of other people in Phoenix and Flagstaff, and one thing was clear to all of them. This important man's upset; this congressman's in a hell of a hurry; this big shot's got a problem. Do you see the trail you left?'

'Yes, I do, but who would look for it?'

'I don't know, and that troubles me more than I can tell you.'

'Troubles you? Whoever it was has blown my life apart! Who would do it?'

'Someone who found an opening, a gap that led to the rest of the trail from a remote campsite called Lava Falls to the terrorists in Masqat. Someone who picked up on something that made him want to look farther. Perhaps it was the calls your secretary made, or the commotion you caused at the State Department's security desk, or even something as crazy as hearing the rumour that an unknown American had interceded in Oman—it wasn't crazy at all; it was printed and squashed—but it could have started somebody thinking. Then the other things fell in place and you were there.'

Evan put his hand over hers on the dirt path. 'I have to know who it was, Khalehla, I have to know.'

'But we do know,' she said softly, correcting herself, her voice flat as if seeing something she should have seen before. 'A blond man with a European accent.'

'Why?' Kendrick removed his hand as the word exploded from his throat.

Khalehla looked at him, her gaze compassionate, yet beneath her concern was that cold analytical intelligence in her eyes. 'The answer to that has to be your overriding concern, Evan, but I have another problem and it's why I'm frightened.'

'I don't understand.'

'Whoever the blond man was, whoever he represents, he reached way down deep in our cellars and took out what he should never have been given. I'm stunned, Evan, petrified, and those words aren't strong enough for the way I feel. Not only by what's been done to you, but by what's been done to us. We've been compromised, penetrated where such penetration should have been impossible. If they—whoever they are—can dig you up out of the deepest, most secure archives we have, they can learn a lot of other things no one should have access to. Where people like me work that can cost a great many lives—very unpleasantly.'

Kendrick studied her taut, striking face, seeing the fear in her eyes. 'You mean that, don't you? You are frightened.'

'So would you be if you knew the men and women who help us, who trust us, who risk their lives to bring us information. Every day they wonder if something they did or didn't do will trip them up. A lot of them have committed suicide because they couldn't stand the strain, others have gone mad and disappeared into the deserts, preferring to die at peace with their Allah rather than go on. But most do go on because they believe in us, believe that we're fair and really want peace. They deal with gun-wielding lunatics at every turn, and bad as things are, it's only through them that they're not worse, with a great deal more blood in the streets… Yes, I'm frightened because many of those people are friends—of mine and my father and mother. The thought of their being betrayed, as you were betrayed—and that's what you were, Evan, betrayed— makes me want to crawl out on the sands and die like those we've driven mad. Because someone way down deep is opening our most secret files to others outside. All he or she needed in your case was a name, your name, and people are afraid for their lives in Masqat and Bahrain. How many other names can be fed? How many other secrets learned?'

Evan reached over, not covering her hand but now holding it, gripping it. 'If you believe that, why don't you help me?'

'Help you?'

'I have to know who's doing this to me, and you have to know who's over there, or down there, making it possible. I'd say our objectives dovetail, wouldn't you? I've got Dennison in a vice he can't squirm out of, and I can get you a quiet White House directive to stay over here. Actually, he'd jump at the chance to find a leak; it's an obsession with him.'

Khalehla frowned. 'It doesn't work that way. Besides, I'd be out of my class. I'm very good where I am, but out of my element, my Arab element, I'm not first rate.'

'Number one,' countered Kendrick firmly. 'I consider you first rate because you saved my life and I consider my life relatively important. And two, as I mentioned, you have expertise in areas I know nothing about. Procedures. “Covert avenues of referral”—I learned that one as a member of the Select Committee on Intelligence, but I haven't the vaguest idea what it means. Hell, lady, you even know what the “cellars” are when I always thought they were the basements in a suburban development which, thank God, I never had to build. Please, you said in Bahrain that you wanted to help me. Help me now! Help yourself.'

Adrienne Rashad replied, her dark eyes searching his coldly. 'I could help, but there might be times when you'd have to do as I tell you. Could you do that?'

'I'm not wild about jumping off bridges or tall buildings—’

'It would be in the area of what you'd say, and to whom I'd want you to say it. There might also be times when I wouldn't be able to explain things to you. Could you accept that?'

'Yes. Because I've watched you, listened to you, and I trust you.'

'Thank you.' She squeezed his hand and released it. 'I'd have to bring someone with me.'

'Why?'

'First of all, it's necessary. I'd need a temporary transfer and he can get it for me without giving an explanation—forget the White House, it's too dangerous, too unstable. Second, he could be helpful in areas way beyond my reach.'

'Who is he?'

'Mitchell Payton. He's director of Special Projects—that's a euphemism for “Don't ask”.'

'Can you trust him? I mean totally, no doubts at all.'

'No doubts at all. He processed me into the Agency.'

'That's not exactly a reason.'

'The fact that I've called him “Uncle Mitch” since I was six years old in Cairo is, however. He was a young operations officer posing as an instructor at the university. He became a friend of my parents—my father was a professor there and my mother's an American from California; so was Mitch.'

'Will he give you a transfer?'

'Yes, of course.'

'You're sure of that?'

'He has no choice. I just told you, someone's giving away a part of our soul that's not for sale. It's you this time. Who's it going to be next?'