The Expediter (43 page)

“I’m with Todd, we’re on the way to All Saints.”

“My God, are you hurt?”

“It’s not me. Elizabeth has been shot in the arm, nothing too serious, but Otto’s in rough shape. They’ll be operating on him within the hour.”

“I’ll leave for the hospital right now,” Katy said.

“I’m not staying for long,” McGarvey told her. “This thing isn’t over yet.”

“I figured as much. The president’s address to the nation is being postponed until tomorrow night, because of some new developments. Kirk, everyone I’ve talked to thinks he hasn’t a clue what to do next. It’s frightening.”

“They’re right. But it’s not his fault.”

“Can you do something to help him?”

“I’m in the middle of it, Katy,” McGarvey said. “I’ll see you at the hospital in about thirty minutes.” He broke the connection and pocketed the phone.

Todd glanced over at him. “If you’re going back to Tokyo I want to come with you. Liz was right, you might need backup.”

“Could get messy, especially with the Japanese. And Tokyo might not be such a healthy place to be.”

Todd grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

McGarvey returned the smile despite himself. “Just don’t ever call me Pop again.

By the time they got to the hospital, Elizabeth had already been treated as an outpatient, and they found her, Katy, and Otto’s wife Louise in the surgical waiting room on the fourth floor.

Katy jumped up when they walked in and before she hugged her husband she looked into his eyes, something she did when she needed to gauge his mood. “Will it be all right?” she asked, holding him close.

“If it isn’t I’ll have done a lot of work for nothing,” he told her, trying to keep it as light as he possibly could under the circumstances.

“That’s good enough for me,” she said. “When are you leaving?”

“In the morning.”

She smiled faintly. “Would you like to bunk with me tonight?”

“I was wondering when you were going to ask,” McGarvey said.

A surgical nurse, in a blood-splattered gown, a mask hanging from her neck, came in. “Mrs. Rencke?” she asked.

Louise jumped up and went over. She was very tall and slender with thick dark hair and a homely face, screwed up now in concern. Otto thought she was beautiful, and she thought he was the smartest, kindest man on the planet. “Me,” she said.

“His left kidney was destroyed, and it’ll have to come out. But Dr. Karp is about the best there is in the business. Your husband will be just fine, the doctor wanted me to tell you that. But it’s going to take several hours.”

“I’ll wait,” she said.

“So will all of us,” Katy added.

When the nurse was gone, McGarvey went out to the corridor and used his cell to call the Watch, which was the operations center in the Company’s Old Headquarters Building. The watch commander answered. “O’Day.”

“Good evening, Darrell, this is McGarvey.”

“Mr. Director, how are you? I heard there was something of a dustup at one of our safe houses tonight.”

“Otto’s been hurt, but he’ll pull through. I need to borrow one of our Lears and a crew without attracting any attention from down the hall. Can you do that for me?” The CIA maintained a small fleet of the twin-engine VIP jets that were capable of transoceanic flights.

“When do you need it?” O’Day asked without hesitation.

“Right away.”

“I think I can arrange that, sir. Can you tell me where you’re headed?”

“Okinawa. And I’m going to need an assist from the Navy out there.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“Some information.”

“Anything.”

“Who’s the current bureau chief for Chinese intelligence here in D.C.?”

“As a matter of fact I have the Chinese file open at the moment,
we’re working on the Watch Report for the President’s A.M. briefing,” O’Day said. “Ma Pang-yu. He’s an army colonel at their embassy under the cover of military liaison.”

“How do I get ahold of him? Do you have his private number?”

This time O’Day did hesitate. “I suppose I should ask you why you want the jet and that particular piece of information, and make a note of it somewhere.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll try to get to it before my shift is over,” the watch commander said, and he gave McGarvey Colonel Ma’s Washington number. “Good hunting, Mr. Director.”

“Thanks,” McGarvey said. He hung up and called the number.

Minoru had called ahead and the Gulfstream had been ready for him by the time he had driven the Lexus up the dirt road, switched for the van, and got out to the private aviation terminal at Dulles. They were airborne a few minutes after one in the morning en route to Seattle, and now at three eastern daylight time, he had composed himself enough to think about telephoning Turov on the Nokia.

The crew aboard the luxuriously appointed jet was Japanese. The pilot and copilot had been lured away from JAL by a fabulous sum of money, and Keiko, the pretty flight attendant, had been the mistreated girlfriend of a Japanese
yakuza
boss who Turov had killed eighteen months ago.

“Would you like me to prepare the bed for you, Hirobumi-san?” she asked.

“Perhaps later. For now I would like more tea and then some privacy. I need to make a call.”

“Of course.” The woman bowed.

She was back a minute later with a pot of water and the tea things on a tray that she placed on the low table in front of Minoru. She smiled at him and then disappeared onto the flight deck.

He took his time measuring the tea powder into the pot of water, stirring with the bamboo implement six times in a clockwise motion then pouring two-handed into the small handleless porcelain cup. He drank with a slurping sound until the cup was empty, then refilled it, his mind returning to an ordered state for the first time this evening.

It was a little after five in the evening in Tokyo when Turov picked up on the first ring. He’d been waiting for the call. “Where are you?”

“Aboard the jet,” Minoru said. “We left Dulles about two hours ago.”

“Was the mission a success?” Turov asked, and Minoru could hear tension in the colonel’s voice.

“A partial success. The woman is dead, as are Daniel, Lavorv, and his four shooters. No one left alive saw my face.”

“McGarvey?”

“We could not get to him. He knew we were coming, and just like you he laid a trap.”

“He’s less like me than you could possibly imagine, Hirobumi,” Turov replied coldly. “Tell me everything.”

Minoru did, succinctly and precisely, leaving nothing out, including his estimation of Lavrov and the four men who’d been brought down from New York without blaming them for the partial failure. “But you have fulfilled your contract, Colonel, and you are in the clear.”

“Loose ends are never
in the clear.
”

“This time may be different.”

“Very well, how do you see it?” Turov often used Minoru as a sounding board.

“Of the two assassins you hired, the woman is dead so can offer no testimony and the husband is in North Korean custody, and at this point the Chinese would not believe anything Pyongyang told
them, even if Kim Jong Il were to declare that on a clear day the sky is blue.”

“Continue.”

“Daniel is dead so the link from you to the Central Intelligence Agency has been severed.”

“For now.”

“No one is left who can prove a thing against you.”

“Except for Kirk McGarvey,” Turov said softly. “He will come here again.”

“If he does we will kill him, my colonel,” Minoru said. “You and I together. But if he remains in Washington, or returns to his home in Florida he will be ineffective without the woman’s testimony.”

“I’m not so sure, Minuro-san,” Turov replied after a beat.

Minoru closed his eyes and felt a profound sense of gratitude for his own Bushido patience and understanding. “Believe me, Colonel, McGarvey is no longer a threat to us. If he persists we will destroy him.”

“We’ll talk more when you arrive.”

“In the morning,” Minoru said. “We will make plans for Australia.”

McGarvey and Katy got back to the hospital around 7:30
A.M.
Housekeeping had brought his things from the safe house over to the hotel so he’d been able to change into some fresh clothes. He’d repacked this morning and brought his bag with him.

Todd had taken a pale, exhausted Elizabeth to their quarters at the Farm, and had promised to be back first thing this morning with the equipment they would need.

Louise had slept on the chair beside Otto’s bed, and both of them were awake now, though it was obvious Otto was in a lot of pain. His breakfast tray of tea, juice, and Jell-o was untouched.

“What, no Twinkies?” Katy asked. Rencke’s idea of a balanced diet was junk food, especially Twinkies, and heavy cream.

Otto’s grin was lopsided and his long red hair was even frizzier than usual. “Oh, hi, Mrs. M,” he said, his voice weak. “They’ve never even heard of them.”

Katy and Louise embraced. “How’s he doing?”

“He’ll be just fine in a few days,” Louise said. “But he wants me to bring him a laptop.”

“How’re you feeling?” McGarvey asked, laying a plastic 7-Eleven bag on Otto’s breakfast tray.

“I’ve felt better,” Rencke said. He eyed the bag. “Emergency rations?”

McGarvey and Katy had stopped to buy a couple of packages of Twinkies on the way over. “Something like that. For when you feel up to it.”

“They took out one of my kidneys, Mac. Makes us brothers.” A number of years ago McGarvey had lost one of his kidneys because of a gunshot wound, the same as Otto’s.

“Practically twins,” Katy said.

Otto stifled a laugh.

A hospital security officer in plain clothes came to the door and knocked on the frame. “Mr. Director, could I have a word, sir?” He was an older man who looked as if had played pro football a while back and hadn’t let himself go soft.

McGarvey stepped out into the corridor with him. “Is my guest here?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve got him in reception downstairs.”

“I’m taking him down to the morgue. We’re going to turn the woman’s body over to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

McGarvey went back into Otto’s room. “I have to go now,” he told them. He and Katy embraced.

“Watch your back, sweetheart,” she said.

“I’m taking Todd with me.”

“I’m glad.”

“Kick some ass, kemo sabe,” Rencke said, and Louise nodded.

Colonel Ma Pang-yu, dressed in an English-cut business suit, was a small, dapper man with a very light complexion and round non-Oriental eyes. He was seated across from the security reception desk. He got to his feet when McGarvey appeared at the door.

“Good morning, Mr. Director,” the Chinese intelligence officer said, his English good.

They shook hands and McGarvey gave him a visitor’s pass. “Let’s make this quick.”

He took the colonel down to the pathology labs and the morgue in the basement. One of the technicians opened the refrigerated compartment where Kim’s body had been placed, slid it out, and then left them.

“Her name is Huk Kim,” McGarvey said. “She and her husband Soon were South Korean snipers, but they quit the service several years ago and have been working freelance ever since. They were the shooters in Pyongyang.”

Ma glanced at Kim’s body. “Yes, we received word from Major Chen that you were given assistance in Pyongyang getting this woman here to Washington so that you could prove North Korea’s innocence. It appears you failed.”

“Only in keeping her alive, for that I’m sorry. But the fact that we were attacked proves she was involved.”

Ma shrugged. “It proves nothing, Mr. Director, although the fact that you are working for the North Korean regime has come as something of a surprise. I’m here out of curiosity. Nothing more.”

“She and her husband were hired by an expediter living in Japan. An ex-KGB killer. It was his people who came here last night.”

Ma was unimpressed. “The Russians have no reason to see the region engaged in a nuclear exchange.”

“He was an expediter only. He worked for someone else.”