The Icarus Agenda (63 page)

“Stop being so polite—”

“There’s no reason to be discourteous,” said Varak courteously. “I simply wanted you to understand my position.”

“You don’t
have
a position,” corrected the government man with emphasis. “Our records are unblemished, if you get my point.”

The Czech shifted his feet in the sand and waited while the roar of a jet passing over from the Naval Air Station diminished in the sky. “You’re saying that there are
no
records and your point is that you won’t discuss anything concrete because you think I may be wearing a recording device.” Varak unbuttoned his jacket, separating it. “Be my guest, search me. Personally, I wouldn’t care to have my voice on the same tape with yours.… Please, go ahead. I will, of course, remove my weapon and hold it in my hand, but I won’t stop you.”

The White House guardian was sullen, hesitant. “You’re too accommodating,” he said, standing motionless.

“On the other hand,” added Milos quickly. “We can dispense with this awkwardness if you’d just read something I’ve prepared for you.” The Czech released his jacket, reached into his pocket and pulled out several sheets of folded paper. He snapped them open and handed them to the Secret Service agent.

As the man read, his eyes narrowed and his lips parted, frozen into the start of a snarl; in seconds a reasonably strong and
attractive face became ugly. “You’re a dead man,” he said quietly.

“That could be shortsighted, don’t you think? Because if I am, surely so are you. The capos would descend like a pack of wild dogs while the dons, drinking their fine red wine as if it were your blood, waited to hear of your very unpleasant death. Records? What are
those
? Names, dates, times, locations—and correspondingly, opposite each entry, the results of your sexual merchandise, or rather, blackmailed into
being
results. Bills amended, contracts awarded, government projects voted up or down according to their allocations. I’d say it’s
quite
a record. And where does it all lead back to? Let me guess. The most unlikely source one can imagine.… An unpublished telephone number listed under a false name and address but located in the apartment of a member of the government’s Secret Service.”

“Those girls are dead.… The boys are dead—”

“Don’t blame them. They had no more of a choice than you do now. Believe me, it’s better to assist me than to oppose me. I have no interest in your extracurricular activities; you provide a service that if you didn’t somebody else would for roughly the same results. All I want from you is information, and in exchange I’ll burn every copy of those pages. Of course, you have only my word for it, but as I’m likely to call upon your expertise again, I’d be stupid to release them, and I assure you I’m not stupid.”

“Obviously not,” agreed the Mafia soldier, his voice barely audible. “Why throw a gun away when you can still use it.”

“I’m glad you understand my position.”

“What sort of information are you looking for?”

“It’s innocuous, nothing that will upset you. Let’s start with the FBI unit that’s been assigned to the Vice President. Aren’t you people doing your job? Do you need a special task force from the Bureau?”

“It hasn’t anything to do with us. We’re in place for protection. They’re investigative.”

“You can’t protect unless you investigate.”

“It’s different levels. We come up with something, we turn it over to the Bureau.”

“What did you come up with that called for this unit?”

“We didn’t,” answered the man. “A couple of months ago a series of threats were made against Viper and—”

“Viper?”

“The Vice President.”

“It’s not a very flattering code name.”

“It’s not in general use, either. Just among the detail.”

“I see. Go on—These threats. Who made them?”

“That’s what the unit’s all about. They’re trying to find out because they’re still being made.”

“How?”

“Phone calls, telegrams, paste-up letters—they come from different places, which keep the Feds in the air a lot tracing them down.”

“Without success?”

“Not yet.”

“Then they’re a
roving
task force, here one day, somewhere else the next. Are their movements coordinated from Washington?”

“When Viper’s there, sure. When he’s out here, it’s here, and when he’s on the road it’s wherever he’s at. The unit’s controlled by his personal staff; otherwise too much time is wasted checking back and forth with D.C.”

“You were out here five weeks ago, weren’t you?”

“Around then, yes. We just got back ten days ago; he spends a lot of time out here. As he likes to say, the President covers the East and he covers the West, and he’s got the better deal because he gets away from Funny Town.”

“That’s a foolish statement for a Vice President to make.”

“That’s Viper, but that’s not to say he’s a fool. He’s not.”

“Why do you call him Viper?”

“As long as you want it straight I guess we don’t like him, or the crowd he pals around with—especially out here. Those bastards treat us like Puerto Rican houseboys. The other afternoon one of them said to me, ‘Boy, get me another G and T.’ I told him I’d better check with my superiors in the Secret Service to see if I was assigned to him.”

“Weren’t you afraid the Vice—Viper—might take offense?”

“Christ, he doesn’t mess with us. Like the Fed unit, we only answer to his staff chief.”

“Who’s he?”

“Not he,
she.
We’ve got another code for her; it’s not as good as Viper but it fits. We call her Dragon Bitch—Dame Bountiful in the logs, which she likes.”

“Tell me about her,” said Varak, the antennae of an adult lifetime picking up a signal.

“Her name’s Ardis Vanvlanderen, and she came on board
about a year ago replacing a hell of a good man who was doing a hell of a good job. So good he got a terrific offer from one of Viper’s friends. She’s in her forties and one of those tough executive ladies who looks like she wants to cut your balls off when you go into her office just because you’re a male.”

“An unattractive woman, then?”

“I wouldn’t say that. She’s got a decent enough face and a foxy body, but it’d be hard to work up a letch for her unless you like the type. My guess is she screws by the numbers.”

“Is she married?”

“There’s a gonzo who comes around saying he’s her husband, but nobody pays much attention to him.”

“What does he do? What’s his business?”

“He’s Palm Springs social set. Stocks and bonds when they don’t interfere with his golf, that’s the way I read him.”

“That’s significant money.”

“He’s a heavy contributor and never misses a superbash at the White House. You know the type—wavy white hair and a big gut with lots of shiny teeth in a tuxedo; they always get their pictures taken dancing. If he could read a whole book through in English, they’d probably make him the ambassador to the Court of St. James—I take it back. With his money, half a book.”

Varak studied the Secret Service guard. The man was obviously relieved at being asked such innocuous questions. His answers were more complete than they had to be, bordering on the false confidentiality of gossip. “I wonder why someone like that would send his wife out to work, even if it is for the Vice President.”

“I don’t think he has anything to say about it. You don’t send a sharp item like her anywhere she doesn’t want to go. Besides, one of the maids told us she was wife number three or four, so maybe Vanvlanderen learned to let ’em hang loose and do their thing.”

“And you say she does it well?”

“Like I said, very sharp, very pro. Viper doesn’t make a move without her.”

“What’s
he
like?”

“Viper?” Suddenly another jet took off from the Naval Air Station, the roar of the engines thunderous. “Viper’s Viper,” said the Mafia plant when the earthshaking noise had vanished. “Orson Bollinger’s a party glad-hander with an insider’s grasp of every fucking thing that goes on, and nothing goes on that
doesn’t serve the boys in the back rooms of California because they take care of him.”

“You’re very astute.”

“I observe.”

“You do a great deal more than that. Only I’d suggest you be more cautious in the future. If I can find you, others might, too.”

“
How?
Goddamn you,
how
?”

“Diligence. And over the weeks watching for a mistake someone had to make. It could have been one of the others in your detail for something else—we’re all human; none of us lives in a freezer—but it turned out to be you. You were tired, of perhaps you had that extra drink, or simply felt you were too secure. Regardless, you made a phone call to Brooklyn, New York, obviously not the way you were supposed to make it, not from an untraceable pay telephone.”

“
Frangie!
” whispered the
capo supremo.

“Your cousin, Joseph ‘Fingers’ Frangiani, second underboss of the Ricci family in Brooklyn, inheritors of the Genovese interests. It was all I needed,
amico.
”

“You foreign low-life son of a
bitch
!”

“Don’t waste obscenities on me.… One last question, and why not be civil?”

“
What?
” cried the furious man from the Mafia, his black eyebrows arched, his right hand instinctively reaching behind his jacket.

“
Stop!
” roared the Czech. “One inch more and you’re dead.”

“Where’s your
gun
?” choked the agent, without a breath.

“I don’t need it,” replied Varak, his eyes boring in on his would-be killer. “And I’m sure you know that.”

Slowly, the Secret Service man brought his right hand in front of him. “One question, that’s all!” he said, his animus reflected in his face. “You’ve got one last question.”

“This Ardis Vanvlanderen. How was her appointment as the Vice President’s chief of staff explained to you? Words must have been said, reasons given. After all, you’re Bollinger’s personal security and you worked well with her predecessor.”

“We’re his security, not corporate executives. Explanations weren’t required.”

“Nothing was said? It’s an unusual position for a woman.”

“Plenty was said so we wouldn’t miss the point, but no explanation. Bollinger called everybody together and told us how pleased he was to announce the appointment of one of the most talented executives in the country, someone who was assuming
the job at such personal sacrifice that we should all thank the powers that be for her patriotism. The ‘her’ was the first inkling we had that it was a woman.”

“Interesting phrase ‘powers that be.’ ”

“He talks that way.”

“And he doesn’t make a move without her.”

“I don’t think he’d dare. She’s heavy metal and she keeps the house in order.”

“Whose order?”

“What?”

“Never mind.… That’s all for now,
amico.
Please be so kind as to leave first, will you? I’ll call you if I need you.”

The mafioso, the hot, ancestral blood of the Mediterranean rushing to his head, jabbed his index finger at the Czech and spoke in a hoarse voice. “You’ll stay out of my fucking life if you know what’s good for you.”

“I hope to stay as far away from you as possible, Signor Mezzano—”

“Don’t you call me a pimp!”

“I’ll call you anything I like, but as to what’s good for me, I’ll be the judge of that. Now
fila
!
Capisce?
”

Milos Varak watched his reluctant informer walk over the sand in silent fury until the
mezzano
disappeared into the maze of beach accesses toward the hotel. The Czech let his mind wander.…
she came on board about a year ago; he’s a heavy contributor; Viper doesn’t make a move without her.
It was thirteen months ago when Inver Brass had begun the search for a new Vice President of the United States, the incumbent considered a pawn of the President’s unseen contributors—men who intended to run the country.

It was past four o’clock in the morning and Khalehla would not stop. She kept pressing Evan, changing cassettes on the recorder and repeating names over and over again, insisting that wherever he recognized anything at all he describe in detail
everything
he could remember. The computer printout from Mitchell Payton’s office at the Central Intelligence Agency included a hundred twenty-seven selected names with corresponding occupations, marriages, divorces and deaths. In each case the individual listed had either spent considerable time with Kendrick or had been present during a period of high activity and could conceivably have been instrumental in his academic or career decisions.

“Where the hell did he
get
these people?” asked Evan, pacing
the study. “I swear I don’t remember half of them, and most of the other half are blurs except for old friends I’ll always remember, and none of them could be remotely connected with what’s happening. Christ, I had three roommates in college, two others in graduate school and a sixth shared an apartment with me in Detroit when I worked in a lousy job over here. Later there were at least two dozen others I tried unsuccessfully to raise backing from for the Middle East and some of them are on that list—why I don’t know, but I do know all those lives are being lived in the suburbs with green lawns and country clubs and colleges they can barely afford for their kids. They have nothing to do with
now
.”

“Then let’s go over the Kendrick Group again—”

“There
is
no Kendrick Group,” broke in Evan angrily. “They were killed, blown away, drowned in concrete!… Manny and I are all that’s left, you know that.”

“I’m sorry,” said Khalehla gently, sitting on the couch drinking tea. The printout was on the coffee table in front of her. “I meant the dealings you had over here in the States
while
there was the Kendrick Group.”

“We’ve gone over them. There weren’t that many—mostly in high-tech equipment.”

“Let’s go over them again.”

“It’s a waste of time but go ahead.”

“ ‘Sonar Electronics, Palo Alto, California,’ ” read Khalehla, her hand on the printout. “The representative was a man named Carew—”