Wall of Night

40

Walking up the cobblestone path up to his parents’ house, Tanner realized this had become something of a ritual for him. Invariably, whether returning from a mission or preparing to go on one, he found himself drawn home — to that part of his life that had nothing to do with “spies and bad guys.” If the worst ever came to pass, he didn’t want his last contact with them to be a phone call or a “sorry we missed each other” voice mail.

Before retiring from his post at the Naval Academy in Annapolis, his father, Henry Tanner, had taught history for Olive Branch Outreach, moving his family to a new country — a new adventure — as the whim struck them: Kenya in the spring; Switzerland in the fall; Australia the next summer; Beirut when it was still known as the “Paris of the Mideast,” before being ravaged by decades of civil war.

Where such upheaval would have left some children confused and standoffish, under Henry and Irene’s loving guidance Tanner had thrived. By the time they had returned to Maine for Briggs’s entry into high school, he was a well-rounded and even-keeled teenager.

The front door swung open and Irene Tanner, wearing an apron and a single oven mitt, rushed out. After a long embrace, she studied him at arm’s length. “You’re not getting enough sleep.”

“I know,” Tanner said, then smiled. “I’ve taken up drinking; I think that’ll help.”

“Oh, stop it. Your hair looks lighter.”

“I’ve been getting some sun.”

“And the stubble? Are you growing a beard?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“I won’t even recognize you,” Irene said, clicking her tongue.

Let’s hope it has the same effect with the Guoanbu and the PSB, Tanner thought. The beard was starting to itch and the blond highlights made him look like a California surf bum.

Irene said, “Did you eat the pie I left you?”

“Yeah, thanks; it was delicious. I had to use a blowtorch to get the wrapper off, though.”

“Oh, shush. I get the same guff from your father.”

Behind her, wearing his ever-present cardigan and half-moon reading glasses, Henry Tanner stepped onto the porch. He smiled. “Coming or going this time?”

“A little bit of both.”

“How soon?” Irene asked.

While his parents knew his job entailed often dicey, and always secretive, work, neither of them pressed him for details. Nor did they smother him in worry, which had to be tough, especially for his mother. He did his best to downplay things, but he suspected they weren’t fooled. Parent’s intuition.

Briggs said, “Day after tomorrow.”

“For how long?” Irene asked, picking at her apron.

He felt an ache in his chest. “Two weeks at most. When I get back, we’ll have a clambake.”

Irene smiled. “We’d like that. Well, come on in. We’re having tater-tot casserole.”

After dinner, Tanner and his father sat in the sunroom drinking coffee while Irene dallied about, making an edible care package for Briggs. Every few minutes, she would come in to ostensibly look for something, touching Briggs’s shoulder or head as she passed.

When he and his father were alone, Henry asked, “Where’re you off to?”

“Asia.”

“Big place,” Henry said. “Take care of yourself.”

“I always do,” Tanner said. Then, in the back of his head: You were careful last time and it almost wasn’t enough. Startled, he suddenly realized that a large part of him was dreading going back. He was afraid, plain and simple.

The Soong defection had been his first deep-cover job with ISAG, and it had nearly set the tone for the rest of his career. Not only had he left behind a man he’d come to call a friend, his wife, and a woman with whom he’d fallen in love, but he’d almost gotten himself killed in the process.

Stop it, Tanner commanded himself. Get it out of your head. That was then; this is now. The question was, What was he going to do with this chance?

With that realization, he felt his mind click over into that familiar mode he’d come to call “narrowing.” Thoughts of routine daily life would soon start to fade: Mowing the lawn, fixing that loose shingle, paying bills — all of it would be irrelevant once he landed in China.

When it was over and he was back home, the lawn would still need mowing and the shingle would still be loose — and his parents would still be waiting with an open door and hot food.

He stayed for another hour then said his good-byes, accepted a shrink-wrapped apple pie from Irene, and drove to Holystone. As he’d expected, everyone was there: Dutcher, Oaken, Cahil, and Charlie Latham; unexpectedly, however, Mason was seated at the conference table. As he walked in, all eyes turned to him. He stood awkwardly for a moment, then set the pie in the middle of the table.

“Don’t tell me I’m the only one who remembered this was a potluck.”

Chuckles broke out around the table.

“Have a seat,” Dutcher said. “Dick’s got something we need to know about.”

“You all know about Howard Bousikaris and his involvement with the Zis,” Mason said. “What we don’t know is how it started or what’s driving it. I believe — as does Leland — that Bousikaris is simply playing middleman for Martin. We’re further convinced there’s a strong possibility Martin is being manipulated by the Chinese government.”

“Into doing what?” Oaken asked

“As we speak, a battle group is en route to Russia’s eastern coast, and a SEAL team is on the ground southwest of Nakhodka-Vostochny to provide targeting support for an attack sub. The goal of the mission is to sink a ship named the Nahrut when it pulls into port.” Mason briefly explained the events that led first to the SEALs’s mission, and then the commitment of the Stennis group. “We’re still in the dark about their precise role in China’s scheme, but you can be sure it’s a disaster in the making.”

There was silence in the room.

Mason continued: “I’m giving each of you a chance to bow out. If, on the other hand, you choose to stay, there’ll be no turning back. What has to be done, can’t be done in half measures. If it goes wrong and we fail, there’s a good chance we’ll all end up in prison. Briggs, in a way, you’re lucky: You’ll be out of the country.”

Tanner smiled. “Saved by a well-timed vacation.”

Cahil spoke up. “All these long faces and grim talk is depressing me. Let’s get on with it.”

Oaken nodded. “I agree.”

“Charlie, how about you? You didn’t sign on for this.”

“As far as I’m concerned, this is all part of the Baker case. Count me in.”

Mason nodded. “Then we’re all agreed?”

He got four nods in return.

“Now that everybody’s on board,” Tanner said, “what do you have in mind?”

“It’s pretty simple, really,” Mason replied. “We’re going to stage a coup.”