Kennedy’s Ghost. Gordon Stevens

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СКАЧАТЬ Circle, Zev Bartolski was Wise Man of Wise Men.

      ‘The DCI knows?’ He sliced through the disbelief and the shock.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Keep me informed.’

      He raised the partition between himself and the driver, and considered what might be happening. Shut his eyes and tried to work out the connections. Sealed off the image of the man, wiped out every trace of Zev’s wife and children, and focused on what the hell might be going down.

      Who? Why? How? What was Bonn working on that connected to anything else? At least the CoS hadn’t been kidnapped, at least they wouldn’t have to worry as they had worried over poor Bill Buckley in Beirut. At least Zev wasn’t going to be tortured for what he knew.

      The logic divided, separated Zev Bartolski as Bonn CoS from Zev Bartolski in his role in the black projects. The position of Chief of Station almost a cover. For the other side, even for his own people.

      A problem with Red River, Costaine had said that morning, certain monies not through on time. Now Zev taken out. The link screamed at him. Except that the two were separate – in personnel and region, in objectives and functions. No connection at all, different and distinct parts. Except they were both black ops.

      He keyed in the DCI’s number and activated the Gold Code.

      ‘This is Tom. I’ve just heard. I’m on my way to the Hill but will return if necessary.’

      There was no panic in his voice, not even an edge of excitement or adrenalin.

      ‘What do you think?’ The DCI had a Texan drawl.

      ‘No need at the moment. Perhaps the best thing is an even keel, show everyone we’re not panicking.’

      ‘Agreed.’

      The Chevrolet passed by the Washington Memorial. The phone rang again. In Europe it was early evening.

      ‘Red Man. Bonn CoS was killed when the car in which he was travelling was blown up.’

      ‘His car?’ Brettlaw asked. ‘How was it blown up? Where was he going and what was he doing?’

      Zev’s car was armoured, but even the best armoured cars were vulnerable to a bomb or land mine exploding beneath them.

      ‘Unclear. The First Secretary has also been killed.’

      Brettlaw was still calm, still almost cold. He could speak to Bonn direct, but everyone would be speaking to Bonn. Bonn would be so jammed with communications that they’d be snowed under. Even so he was tempted to call off the session that afternoon and return to Langley.

      ‘Check on the vehicle the CoS was travelling in,’ he issued the orders. ‘Check whether the First Secretary was killed in the same incident or a separate one. Find out what they were doing and why. Get some indication why the CoS might have been targeted.’

      The Chevrolet passed Senate Russell Building and approached Senate Hart. He keyed his secretary’s number and activated the encryptor. Maggie Dubovski was mid-forties, career Agency like himself. One of the warhorses, one of the reliables. When he made DCI Maggie would go with him, would consider it the pinnacle of her career as he would consider it the pinnacle of his.

      ‘You’ve heard?’ he asked her.

      ‘Yes.’

      He named those officers to be placed on standby. ‘Meeting in my office at five, unless you hear from me before.’

      There was one other thing.

      ‘Find out where Martha Bartolski and the kids are. Make sure they’re okay.’

      The driver showed his pass to the policeman on duty at the entrance to the parking area below Senate Hart and drove down into the half-light. The Director of Security for the Intelligence Committee was already waiting. Brettlaw shook his hand and was escorted to the set of rooms known simply as SH 219.

      SH 219 housed the most secure room on Capitol Hill. The lift from the parking area was connected to it by series of other internal lifts, therefore no member of the public was able to see who was entering or leaving. The room itself was on the second floor of Hart Building, the hallway outside overlooking the courtyard round which Hart was built. The reception desk was opposite a set of double doors, but the doors themselves were opaque so that no one could see inside, and there were imitation doors along the rest of the wall on to the walkway. The committee room proper was entered through steel doors, the walls of the isolation area in which the committee held its deliberations were lead-lined, and further protection against electronic surveillance was provided by white noise.

      Brettlaw smiled at the receptionist, signed the register, including the time he was entering the isolation area, and went inside.

      The members were already waiting in the semicircle of seats on the platform in front of him. Today was the bad one, today the bastards would be after his blood. He took his place, and the doors were closed and locked, sealing off the committee. Then, and only then, did the chairman call the meeting to order and ask Brettlaw for his opening remarks.

      ‘Before I begin, I have an announcement to make.’ It would soon be public anyway, but there were certain members who would remember that the DDO had seen fit to brief them first. ‘I have just been informed that the CoS Bonn has been assassinated.’ He waited for the room to settle. ‘This information was passed to me on my way here, as yet no other details are available. If any do become available during this session I will, of course, inform you immediately.’

      The senior Republican rose. ‘Mr Chairman, may I put on record the committee’s horror at the news, and its appreciation of the Deputy Director’s decision to attend despite it.’

      ‘Noted.’

      Even the liberals were shocked, Brettlaw thought wryly. Zev serving the Agency in death as in life.

      The questioning began, slightly less ferocious than on previous occasions, but barbed anyway.

      There were tricks, of course, almost tradecraft. Never tell a lie, because one day they might come back at you on it. But never tell the truth. Unless, of course, it suited you. Make what the politicians call lawyer’s answers, play one committee against another, the Senate against the House of Representatives. And if they had you, if you were really up against it, run a dangle, either to them or the press, lay a bait that would make them think they were on to something but which would take them so far off course they were the other side of the globe from what you wanted to protect. But never make enemies, because one day you might be sitting in front of them at a confirmation hearing for the job at the top.

      ‘Item 12d in budget document 4.’ The committee man was like a buzzard, Brettlaw thought, hungry eyes and hooked nose.

      So what the hell was running in Bonn? Why in Christ’s name did Zev have to die? How was it connected to the black projects? Was it connected to them? What about the financial discrepancy on the Red River project?

      ‘Perhaps we could look at paragraph 10 …’

      Don’t patronize me, you bastard. Don’t try your smooth perhaps we could look at … Don’t try to sucker me. Today of all days. With Zev Bartolski splattered across some fucking СКАЧАТЬ