Undeceived (22 page)

Chapter 32

“It could be anyone, Darcy. We’re not any closer to finding him.” Elizabeth closed her eyes, rubbing her fingers over them to dispel the eyestrain. They had returned to Pemberley that afternoon because Darcy was waiting for a phone call from Port of Spain. Huddled over the small conference table in his office, they combed through files and papers spread out like fingers from the center. The eerie whine of tree frogs overlaid the peaceful hum of ocean and cicadas with an unsettling urgency. Elizabeth stepped over and closed the window.

“Charlotte and I had two dozen people on a watch list, including you, George Wickham, Charles, and Cara. Even Bill Collins, for Pete’s sake. And the mole might be someone we haven’t even thought of.”

“I understand Wickham, Georgina, Fitz, Anneliese—even Charles and Cara—but why would you put Collins on the list?”

“We drew maps around you with connections based on who you worked with, who you were seen with over the last five years. Bill was on that list. He’s worked with you on every assignment since 1979, at least for part of the time.”

“Hmmph. I didn’t realize.”

“Yes.”

“He blends in.”

“Unlike George Wickham: Mr. Slick, Handsome, and Flashy.”

“George Wickham is not a good man,” a soft voice peeped up from behind them.

Darcy closed his eyes and sighed. “Ina, sweetheart.”

“Are you working with George Wickham again, William? You should not trust him. He is not the person he seems.”

Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged looks. After careful consideration, they had decided not to tell Georgina of Wickham’s demise, at least not yet.

“No, we aren’t working with him any longer. You don’t need to worry about him ever again. Not ever.”

“That’s”—she paused to find the English phrase—“a relief.”

Darcy covered up the chart in front of him. “Why are you up? It’s two in the morning.”

“I might ask the same of you. And you, Elizabeth. Why are you up at two in the morning? And if you’re up, why aren’t you upstairs together?” She gave them a saucy grin.

“Georgina!” Darcy was embarrassed, and Elizabeth fought an urge to giggle.

“You are working late in the night. I see that. You asked me to use my camera. I remember. I know you are hiding Elizabeth—like you hide me.” She came forward and brushed a lock of hair from Elizabeth’s face. “Are you well,
švagrová
? Did they find you too?” The ethereal way she slipped in and out of the past was as unnerving as the tree frog sounds outside.

Elizabeth squirmed at being called “sister-in-law.” “I’m well. No one got to me. It’s all right.”

Georgina took Elizabeth’s hands in hers. “You’re safe here. William won’t let anyone hurt you. Neither will I.”

She stepped to the table and looked over the documents collected there. “Maybe I can help you.”

Darcy reached over to close a file. “I appreciate it, but aside from Wickham, these are all people you don’t know.”

Georgina moved the papers aside and studied the chart of pictures. “You’re wrong. I know him.”

“Who? What?”

She pointed. “I know him.”

Elizabeth looked down at the photo under Georgina’s finger. “You know Bill Collins?”

“I don’t know his name, and he didn’t wear glasses, but this man I have seen before.”

“Where?”

“In Prague.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just see him in the embassy? He worked there.”

“I only saw George Wickham in the embassy. But this man I know from somewhere else. He attended some Charter 77 meetings. He never said a word, so I didn’t know he was American, but a lot of people didn’t say anything in those meetings, lest anyone know too much about them.”

“Collins was in Prague when I was COS there, but he was a flunky, a minion. If he had that level of clearance, to work those meetings under cover, I sure didn’t know it.” He glanced in Elizabeth’s direction. “But then, there was a lot of intrigue I wasn’t aware of.”

“Bill always seemed to be underfoot. Are you sure you didn’t just overlook him?”

Darcy frowned at her. “Elizabeth, I knew what level of clearance my staff had. No way Collins would have been cleared to attend one of those Prague meetings.”

“So why was he there?”

“I don’t know.”

She concentrated, rewinding her memories of the assignments she’d shared with Bill. He always was…lurking, now that she thought about it. Coming into her office in Budapest several times a day, attending the same meetings she did at Langley. They weren’t in East Berlin at the same time, but he had helped Darcy set up before he was called back to the US. And when she worked at Langley, she saw him more days than not. She’d been vain enough to think he might be interested in her.

“He was nervous that day in the safe room.”

“What did you say?”

“I met him one day, leaving the embassy safe room in Budapest. He almost ran me over while I tried to open the door.”

“The safe room on the second floor?”

“Yes. Why?”

“When was this?”

“Right before I left for Lake Balaton.”

“Could it have been?” he muttered to himself. He got up and began to pace. “Right under our noses?”

“What are you talking about?”

Darcy fished through a file. “This report is from my debriefing after Budapest.” He ran his finger down the page and flipped through three more pages before stopping to rest on a line buried in a long paragraph. “There.”

Elizabeth shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. “You and that photographic memory of yours. Must come in handy.”

“It does. Look.”

“The safe room was bugged?”

He nodded. “After we reached Vienna, they swept the US Embassy in Budapest for listening devices, thinking that was how we were compromised. They found one in that safe room.”

“Lots of people had access to that room. Lots of people could have planted a bug there.”

“True, but the timing is right. There were no leaks in Hungary until we went to Alsómező,
after
you saw a nervous Collins outside the safe room door. They never found out who did it.”

“He was annoying, bumbling, but even given how inept he was, he never really seemed
nervous
except for that day.”

“I assumed the bug was how the Hungarian government knew about us moving Johanna out of the country. I had called that mission in to the station chief.”

“Bill was the one who brought you the message about state security knowing our plans to take Johanna out of the country.” Elizabeth picked up Bill’s picture and studied it.

“All the while, he might have been the one who was ratting us out. The man was pumping me for information, too, the whole time he told me about the intelligence leak.”

“So why didn’t they take us on the way to Kőszeg?”

“I didn’t tell him the details, remember? I left him out of the loop to protect him—the little shit.”

“I can’t wrap my head around this.”

“In East Germany, he was the one who set up the op with you as Anneliese’s cutout. He left an incriminating set of files in my flat. Then he left the country. And now…”

She and Darcy locked gazes. “He’s at Langley.”

“Or is he?”

“The last time I saw him was…”

“When?” he asked.

“He and George Wickham waltzed into my office on a Friday afternoon, not even a week before I left for Tobago. I didn’t think too much about it. He dropped by a lot. There were files scattered all over the office. He picked one up, started looking through it. I snatched it out of his hand. Told him to leave me be—I was on a mole hunt. It was a careless, throwaway comment. I was annoyed at George because he made a derogatory comment about you—”

“Feels good to have a staunch defender for a change,” Darcy muttered, his lips twitching in an amused smile.

“And Wickham said something about the real mole being gone. Bill asked, and George said they sent you to Port of Spain. I remember because I didn’t think that was common knowledge.”

“Bill knew I was on Tobago.”

“But we never said you were on Tobago,” Elizabeth interrupted. “It’s not much of a stretch, but I
know
Wickham said Port of Spain, Trinidad.”

“I missed that detail in Bill’s and my conversation in your office. I guess my mind was on other things, but I know he said Tobago—yet no one but Henry and Mrs. G knew I left Trinidad.”

“Could someone else have told him?”

“No one else knew. The plane met us in Port of Spain, and I hadn’t been debriefed yet.”

“So the only way he would know is…”

“If he was there,” they chorused.

“That day, in your office, when Bill saw your charts he reacted…” Darcy began for her, trying to encourage her memory.

“Strangely, now I think on it. He squinted at my whiteboard. I had my codes for all of you on it with arrows and dates and places. Then I saw this flash of contempt. I’d seen those flashes before, like when we met after Budapest in Charles’s office and he sent him away on a wild goose chase. It was more than contempt, though. There was wariness, calculation. At the time, I just assumed he was a career and social climber. You know, same old Collins.” She brought herself out of her memory. “Did you ever see calculation in him?”

Darcy smiled grimly. “Never. Not even once. It took your intuition, or perhaps he thought you were too green to see it and let down his guard a bit. Underestimated you.”

“He probably thought ‘lady agent’ and figured I wouldn’t know what I was seeing. I always suspected he didn’t much like working with me. I thought it was only male ego, but maybe not. A few days after that, I left to contact a new asset with information on the mole. Good Lord, Darcy…”

“Collins brought you the order.”

“He did. Wickham and the director both knew about it though. It was weird; the asset wanted to meet on neutral ground: Tobago. You were close by, and both Wickham and the director thought that was fishy—thought perhaps the informant was someone who worked with you there.”

“So, I wasn’t really cleared.”

“Thing was, I
had
cleared you officially, but there was still all this postulation. It annoyed me—made me think no one believed my report. That’s why I volunteered to go.”

“The stain of suspicion that’s on me since that investigation—well, it never really goes away.”

“Perhaps not. I know George still suspected you, even the night before he was killed.”

Darcy ran a hand down her hair, a gesture of affection. “You are not to blame for what happened to George, remember?”

“I know. It’s just…the serendipity of it all. Everything turns on a minute decision. George walks to the meeting place first instead of me, and it kills him. The randomness of it is terrifying.”

He stepped to her and drew her into his embrace. “Ina’s right, you know. You’re safe here. You’re not alone. We’re together now, and I’ll protect you with my resources, with my connections, with my life if I have to.”

She took a minute to draw comfort from those words and strength from the man holding her. Then she pulled away.

“Let’s get out his financials. I’ve never combed through them because he wasn’t on my short list before.” She divided them and gave half to Darcy. As they worked, only the scratching of pencil on paper could be heard.

“He has brokerage accounts, but they wouldn’t let me pull those.”

“What about charge cards?”

“Those I have.” She ran her pencil down the page. “Looks like ole Bill has been buying some unusual luxury items: a boat, a sports car, antiques, and rugs and jewelry. Nice, but not too nice.” She noted the items and the dates.

“And property—he’s bought property, too, within the last year or so. Here’s a down payment on a house in Northern Virginia.”

“Cross-check that with the bank deposits.”

“Maybe it isn’t payoff cash. Maybe he legitimately came into some money.”

“An inheritance? I don’t think so. The family history doesn’t support it, and he’s never been married, so no in-laws.”

“The property purchase was made two weeks after a big deposit—just under the ten thousand dollar limit that the bank would have to report. Deposit was made in cash.”

“Holy shit.” The low volume of her voice couldn’t hide the buzz of excitement. “I can’t believe I overlooked him! I was so focused on you and then on Wickham…”

“Until Ina recognized his face in that picture and changed our point of view.”

“And you brought some more pieces of the puzzle, like the bug found in the Hungarian Embassy. If only I could find that last piece, let it fall into place. We’re close, Darcy. I can feel it. Could the mole really be Bill Collins?”

“He’s the front runner now. First thing tomorrow, we contact Langley and find out where he is. We need the most recent charge card bills and banking records too.”

“And then?” she asked.

“It’s time to put together a dossier on one of our own—one the FBI can use to search his place and, hopefully, make an arrest.”

“I never get used to it—the icky feeling that comes with suspicion.”

Darcy was overcome with a wave of tenderness. “Which makes me think perhaps counterintelligence is where you belong after all, darling. Because you’ll never get used to it, and CI needs people like you.” He turned to find his sister sprawled on the couch, asleep. Gently, he woke her.

“Come on, Ina.”

She startled, but a smile bloomed on her face when she recognized him. “Did you solve the case?”

“Not yet.” He looked over her head at Elizabeth. “But maybe we’re on the right path at last.”

Chapter 33

The fastest way to get official information from Langley was through established channels, so Darcy made a pilgrimage to Port of Spain a couple of days later. He left Elizabeth sleeping and drove down to the landing strip where Barrett had his plane ready. He wasn’t piloting today; he wanted to read on the way back to Barbados. By 9:00 a.m., he was at his desk in the capital city on Trinidad.

Darcy gestured for Henry to enter as he stayed on the phone with the FBI. “Yes, sir. I’m sending you enough circumstantial evidence for the task force to search his apartment and nab him. Search for physical evidence: a note of where he’s meeting his handler, procedures for leaving information, even a journal of some type—if he was stupid enough to write things down.” There was a pause while the voice on the other line went on. “Yep. You can reach me through Bingley’s office. When you’ve got him, let me know. I’ll bring the investigating officer and her documentation to Washington after he’s in custody.” He paused again. “You got it. Good luck.”

Henry sat down in the chair facing Darcy’s desk. “I got stuff for you. From DC.”

“Thank you.” He took the sealed envelope from Henry’s hand. “I appreciate your willingness to step in for a few weeks while I sort this out.”

Henry shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Not much goes on around here.”

“Still, I appreciate it.”

“Wish you’d let me in on what that’s all about.” He nodded toward the envelope.

“Can’t, my friend. It’s…”

“…Compartmentalized Top Secret Information,” Henry intoned with him. He sighed. “Ah, well. You heading out?”

“After a while. I’m waiting on another phone call.”

“Where are you off to?”

“Sorry, Henry. Call Mrs. G if you need to reach me after I leave.”

Henry stood. “I’m out for the afternoon then. There’s rumbling coming out of Grenada. Somebody’s gotta do the intelligence work around here.”

“See ya ’round.”

Darcy slid a knife along the edge of the thick envelope and opened the file inside labeled: William Collins.

Inside was a picture of a younger Collins along with some demographic information. He was only a year younger than Darcy himself, also born in Maryland to Mary and John, who was employed as a—

Darcy sat up straight and stared:

CIA officer since 1953. Father was part of the team who trained rebels in Guatemala and Nicaragua for Operation Zapata. Collins was stationed with the late Thomas Bennet (killed 17 April 1961 in the aftermath when the
Derby
, a supply ship owned by Darcy Shipping, was run aground on Playa Giron during the invasion). Officer Bennet’s remains not recovered until several months later with the help of Darcy Shipping president, George F. Darcy. Honor and Merit Awards Board submitted Thomas Bennet for inclusion on the Memorial Wall when it was first created in 1974. Bennet was survived by his wife, Frances, and daughter, Elizabeth, now residents of Charleston, West Virginia.

So, Elizabeth was this Thomas Bennet’s daughter. Not a huge surprise; she told him her father was on the Memorial Wall, but Bennet’s connection to Darcy Shipping—and to John Collins—was unnerving. He thumbed back to a report on the elder Collins.

After the investigation into the failed Bay of Pigs invasion, John Collins was terminated when the CIA cleaned house. He died in a single-vehicle automobile accident in 1968, the result of driving under the influence. Collins was survived by his wife, Mary, and son, William.

“April 1961—and the paternal gang’s all here, enmeshed in the Cuban mess,” Darcy said to himself. Elizabeth’s father on the
Derby
, owned by Darcy’s own father’s company, and Collins, a colleague of Bennet’s as they trained rebel troops together. Darcy leaned back, the hair prickling on the back of his neck. Who knew there was a connection among the three of them so far back?

He returned to Bill’s personnel file.

Interview with recruit Collins: “After my father left the agency, he drank a lot. I didn’t see him much because he and my mother separated in 1965. He left me nothing except a love for my country.” Psychological report indicates abandonment issues but otherwise reasonably healthy adjustment. Passed polygraph. Recommend approving security clearance.

The phone rang.

“William Darcy.”

“This is Bridget with Deputy Director Bingley’s office. We received the passport information you requested on Bill Collins.”

“Yes?”

“He did leave the country in the time frame you specified and went through customs in Trinidad.”

“Gotcha, you son-of-a-bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“Um…sorry. Obviously, that wasn’t meant for you. Thank you, Bridget.”

“You’re welcome, but there’s more.”

“I’m listening.”

“Bill Collins is not currently working at Langley. Calls to his house are unanswered. And the passport was used within the last forty-eight hours.”

“Destination?”

“Barbados.”

***

Elizabeth stared forlornly out the window onto the dock and beach below. Gray clouds rolled offshore, threatening a stormy afternoon. Her answering machine, the one Darcy brought from her apartment, sat in her lap. Leaning over, she plugged it into the wall and pressed play.

“Ms. Bennet, this is Capitol Cleaners letting you know your dry cleaning has been here for over thirty days. You can stop and pick it up anytime. Thanks!”

Beep
.

“Hey, it’s Charlotte. I presented our information to my supervisor. He thinks we have enough to start some surveillance on a couple of these on your list, maybe leading to a search warrant. Call me.”

Elizabeth sniffed.

Beep
.

“Lizzy, it’s your mother. I’m starting to get very worried now. I’ve tried to get a hold of you for over three weeks. Please, for the love of God, give me a call and let me know you’re alive. It’s just like when that John Collins came and whisked your father away. He never came home.” Elizabeth could hear sobs over the line.

She replayed the last message three times, incredulous at the coincidence of her mother mentioning a colleague of Thomas Bennet’s named Collins. “Serendipity strikes again,” she murmured. “Or maybe not serendipity at all. I’m starting to believe there are no coincidences.”

She crossed to Darcy’s desk and picked up a phone with a secured line. She should call her mother—let her know she was all right. She cradled the handset between her shoulder and her ear while she put the answering machine in a drawer.

The line was dead.

“Odd,” she commented, tapping the phone cradle several times. She picked up her .38 Special and put on her ankle holster. It was common to lose phone service and power when there was a storm, but the clouds were still offshore.

“Is there a problem?”

“Hi, Mrs. Reynolds. Did you know the phone lines were down?”

“No. When did that happen?”

“Not sure. I just discovered it when I tried to make a call to the States.”

“Odd. The storm isn’t even here yet.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’ll go into town and report the outage. Maybe they can fix ours first before the storm hits.”

“I’ll take a look around here. It might be something simple.”

“Be careful, dear.”

Elizabeth tapped her holster. “Always.”

She wandered around the house but couldn’t find anything that looked like a phone box. The grey storm clouds gathering off shore drew her attention, so she walked down to the water, listening to waves splash against the rocks, the wind whipping her hair back and forth.

“Hello, Ms. Bennet.”

She reached for her revolver, but stopped when she felt the barrel of a gun in her back.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He reached into her holster, drew out the gun, and slid it up her leg before tossing it away.

“Bill, is that you?”

“Indeed, it is. You can’t hide from me anymore.”

Elizabeth tried to calm her pounding heart and think. “Why don’t we just sit down and talk about this. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

He put his arm around her neck, forcing her to arch against the pistol. “You know, I wish that were true. I really do, but you’ve left me no choice now. If it makes you feel any better, it was never supposed to be you who died. Hell, this whole situation was never supposed to be the death of anybody. I was only supposed to turn Darcy.”

“Darcy?”

“Typical, isn’t it? The KGB tried for him once—no, twice—before, but they were unsuccessful. That second miss was what sealed his fate. He killed my Anneliese.”

“She shot him, Collins.”

“She wasn’t trying to kill him!” Collins’s voice broke with anguish. “She had her orders. If he’d just gone along quietly…”

“Bill.” Elizabeth tried softening her voice. “You must know he couldn’t let that happen.” She tried to face him, but he poked the pistol barrel tighter against her ribs.

“Thing is, really, they didn’t need Darcy. They didn’t. I could have done the job just as well. Here I was, working for them voluntarily, and all my handler could talk about was getting to the elusive London Fog.”

“So the plan was to frame him? Why do that?”

“Oh, we didn’t want enough evidence to fall into CI hands to convict him, just throw enough suspicion to tank his career for a while. He was too rich to be bribed in the traditional ways. The plan was to make him miserable and angry enough to consider turning, then throw Anneliese in his way.”

“But why Darcy?”

“According to my handler, Darcy had enough knowledge, enough access to find most anything the KGB wanted. He knew almost every asset in place in Eastern Europe by the time he went to Prague. That was what they valued.”

“You couldn’t get that for them?”

“Not all the names. Could never get the clearance, no matter how many boots I licked or stellar reports I wrote. Then he killed Anneliese in cold blood.”

“I’m sorry you lost her.”

“No you’re not!”

“I
am
sorry, Bill. It was a waste, a shame. But you’ve been giving the KGB intel for years, long before Anneliese. Why? What made you turn in the first place?” Elizabeth’s mind was racing like a squirrel on a wheel. Keeping him talking was giving her time. “Don’t you love your country?”

“I do love my country. I just hate the damn CIA—and I wonder why you don’t hate it too.”

“Why would I?”

“We have the same reasons, you and I. We’re two of a kind. Two orphans left swinging in the wind. The CIA took our fathers.”

“My father died in the service of his country.”

“Is that what they told you? Have you even read the reports?”

“I know he died on Playa Giron during the Cuban invasion. Your father was there too, wasn’t he? I just began to suspect that today after a message from my mother.”

“Dad wasn’t there actually. If he had been, he might have died too. Quick and easy. Not the long, drawn-out misery of drinking himself into oblivion every night and day until my mother threw him out. Not the agony of watching his career implode because he was just following orders. Your father had it easy compared to mine.”

He began to move her along the shore toward the dock.

“You won’t get away with this, Bill. Not now. Too many people know.”

“My spying days are over, true enough, but I’ve got cash squirreled away. I can hide out somewhere warm and sunny for a long time.”

“Where would that be?”

“Nuh-uh-uh. Not telling. But nice try. You and Darcy have that in common. You both think you’re so clever. Speaking of Darcy, did you know it was old man Darcy who found out what happened to your father?”

“No.”

“True story. He brought Bennet’s remains home. Charred beyond recognition.”

Elizabeth shuddered. “How did they know who it was then?”

“Dental records, I guess.”

“Does William know this?”

“I have no idea. I doubt it. That whole family is full of secrets. You should read Darcy’s KGB dossier. I doubt the old man ever told him anything. All that secrecy is unhealthy if you ask me. My father told me everything.”

“That must have been difficult. You were just a little boy.”

He pushed the barrel of the gun against her spine, tighter still. “Life is one ‘tough shit’ after another. My father didn’t hide that from me. He wasn’t a secret keeper like Darcy’s old man.”

“No, in the throes of alcoholism, he told a child more than he should have.”

Collins laughed. Elizabeth had never heard him even snicker before; it was an unholy sound, completely devoid of joy.

“I’ve always admired your wit, Ms. Bennet. Always. Now, let’s get in the boat over there. We’re going to take a little ride, and I’m going to feed you to the fish.” He nudged her toward the stairs of the dock. Both of them froze when they heard the feral scream.

Elizabeth went limp and hit the sand as the gun went off. Her arm exploded in pain. She covered her head and turned to prepare herself for the onslaught.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Georgina came flying through the air, leaping onto Collins’s back from the boulders nestled beside the dock stairs.

Elizabeth watched his gun spin and tumble end over end to land on the ground some ten feet away. Georgina reared back, tightening her forearm against his neck, and wild-eyed and crazed, she plunged the knife into his chest. It skittered off a rib and out of her hand. Collins reached back over his shoulders and flipped her over his head. They struggled as she clawed at his face and bit like a wild animal. He was no strongman, but Collins had a good fifty pounds on her and managed to pin her down before he threw a punch and rendered her unconscious.

Elizabeth and Collins locked gazes. At the same moment, both lunged for his gun, lying on the sand. They reached it at the same time, knocking it into the surf. Elizabeth pulled up first, but Collins got a hand on her ankle, yanking her face down on the ground. She fought as he pushed her face into the wet, filling her mouth with sand.

“Why couldn’t you mind your own business—you and that bitch from the FBI?”

She howled with indignant fury for herself, Wickham, Charlotte, and every officer and asset Collins had already sent into Death’s arms. She managed to get her torso off the ground, but he flipped her on her back. Straddled her. Put his hands on her throat. And shook her as he began to squeeze life from her.

Her vision darkened, a red miasma descending over the world as she gasped and fought, flailing against the sand. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the roar of a lion. Then, air rushed into her bruised windpipe, burning as it went in and came out, expelled in a violent fit of coughing. She sat up, saw the two figures grappling in the water and the pistol washed up a few yards away. Grabbing the gun and with trembling hands, Elizabeth tried to take aim. Fear consumed her as she recognized Collins’s attacker.