Part 8 (1/2)
”The Eichels did a h.e.l.l of a job covering their G.o.dd.a.m.n b.l.o.o.d.y tracks.” Ending the connection, Tucker spun his chair around to his file cabinet, opened the bottom drawer, and took out a bottle of Jack Daniel's. As he poured himself a shot and downed it, warm memories of his previous boss filled his mind. At the end of an aggravating day they would meet in one of their offices to philosophize, a.n.a.lyze missions, and share a drink. Unlike his current boss, she had understood the terrible danger of being risk-averse in intelligence work. If you followed hidebound rules while facing an enemy who had no rules, you inevitably met disaster. She was not afraid to go where the outcome was uncertain. What was driving Catapult's new boss bat-s.h.i.+t was that Tucker still operated that way-because it worked.
He got to his feet and paced. If he told Bridgeman the hunt club had been sanitized, Bridgeman would say the hunt club had never been the scene of a sniper kill, because there was no evidence-just Judd Ryder's oral report. And Bridgeman did not trust Ryder.
Tucker turned on his heel and marched back across the room. On the other hand, if he delayed telling Bridgeman, he would have a chance to prove Judd was right about the hunt club, about being doubled, about Eva's being doubled, and that international a.s.sa.s.sins were operating in-country-which was what scared the bejesus out of him.
He paused at his desk, poured himself some more Jack. Drinking it, he could almost see his former boss in the shadows of his office, hear her voice: ”Dammit, Tucker, you know Bridgeman isn't going to give you a break on this. Do what you have to do.”
Nodding to himself, he sat and dialed Bash Badawi, picturing his aggravation as he stomped around the hunt club.
Bash answered at the first ring. ”What do you want me to do, Tucker?”
”Fly your people home to Langley,” Tucker ordered. ”Tell the pilot his next a.s.signment is to ferry me back to Maryland, but to a different destination-Merrittville. If he needs to refuel, he should do it as soon as he lands.”
There was no hesitation. ”Want some help in Merrittville?”
”Not this time.” Getting himself into trouble by bucking Bridgeman was one thing; getting his people into trouble was an entirely different matter.
”Merrittville,” Bash repeated thoughtfully. ”Doesn't Martin Chapman have a place near there?”
”Sometimes your memory is too good.”
”Are you going to Chapman's? Will the Eichels and Judd be there, too?”
”Yes to your questions, but you don't get any more. And keep what I just told you to yourself. I'll see you at Langley.” Feeling marginally better to have made a decision, he drank more Jack. Then he dialed Judd Ryder again.
”What in h.e.l.l's going on, Tucker?” Judd wanted to know.
”I'm flying out to join you. Are you at Chapman's yet?”
”I'm about fifteen miles away. Why are you coming?”
”I'll fill you in when I get there. I'll be bringing dossiers on the Padre, the Carnivore, Eli Eichel, Krot, and Seymour. I'm hoping there's a clue in there about this situation. I'm commandeering one of Langley's choppers. There's an old airfield outside town. Meet me there.”
After giving Judd directions, Tucker capped the bottle, set it back inside the file cabinet drawer, and put on his heavy wool overcoat. He strode out the door and down the hall. He could hear the tapping of Gloria at work on her computer keyboard.
He stopped at her desk.
She looked up. Her forehead crinkled as she saw his overcoat. ”You're going out again? It's not on your schedule.”
”I'm impressed you still think I have a schedule, and that if I had one, I could stick to it.”
”Being an optimist keeps me young.” The smile lines around her eyes deepened.
”I like getting old. I'm good at it. I've got the printouts of the reports on the Carnivore and the Eichel brothers that you a.s.sembled. Now I need ones on the Padre, Krot, and Seymour.”
”No kidding. Krot and Seymour, too. But don't worry. I'm not going to ask.”
”Good. And I want up-to-the-minute satellite photos of Martin Chapman's horse farm and the country around it. Building plans, too, if you can get them. Send everything to my secure handheld. I need all of it in an hour.”
She took off her gla.s.ses and stared at him. ”Where are you going?”
”To Langley.”
”And then you'll be back?”
”Not until late.” He glanced around. ”When the chopper I requisitioned for Bash returns to Langley I'm going to nab it and head north, too. Judd and I are planning a surprise visit to Martin Chapman. It's better Bridgeman not know anything about any of this, at least not yet.”
She nodded. ”So Bash's report about the hunt club was bad news?”
”Like the t.i.tanic.”
ELI EICHEL.
[T]hose who do not have power a.s.sa.s.sinate to get it, and those who have power a.s.sa.s.sinate to keep it.
-The a.s.sa.s.sination Business, by Richard Belfield
23.
Montgomery County, Maryland Eli Eichel stopped the Dodge van at a reinforced wrought-iron entrance gate. Above it arched an ornate wrought-iron sign: The Chapman Farm Arabian Horses He rolled down his window and touched the intercom b.u.t.ton.
A voice answered instantly: ”Good evening, sir. What can we do for you?”
”I'm a friend of the Padre's,” Eli lied. ”I'm here to give Mr. Chapman an update on Judd Ryder.”
”I'll relay your message.”
Closing his window, Eli looked up, studying the place. On the other side of the gate, a wide drive climbed past mounds of snow and picturesque wood corrals to a plantation-style mansion that was as white and fancy as a wedding cake. Fronted by stately columns, the house boasted railed porches across each of its three stories. The compound was highly secure, with closed-circuit cameras and electrified concertina wire atop the granite wall that surrounded the property. A sentry dressed in white patrolled among the buildings. Unless an outside light shone directly on him, the man was almost impossible to see against the snow. Soon Eli spotted a second guard, also wearing white head-to-toe.
”I estimate the mansion is twelve thousand square feet.” Danny was gripping his knees, staring through the winds.h.i.+eld. ”Since it's fundamentally a box, it's easy to do the math. Would you like me to tell you the size of the other buildings, too?”
”Yes, I'd be interested in that.” Long ago Eli had given up trying to understand why Danny was fascinated by such things. In any case, the exercise would keep Danny occupied.
”I'll start with the next biggest building,” Danny said. ”The barn. It's ten thousand square feet-perhaps it contains a riding ring. After that is the garage. It's five thousand square feet. He must have several cars. Then there's...”
Eli stopped listening. When the voice sounded again from the intercom, he rolled down his window.
”Go to the main house,” the voice ordered. ”You'll be met and searched.”
Eli drove the van up the slope, pa.s.sing under bright lights.
”I can't take any weapons inside, can I?” Danny said.
”No. They'd just confiscate them if you tried. And we don't want any fights, at least not yet.”
They parked at the top of the circular drive. As they climbed brick steps, the front door opened.