* * *
• • •
JORAM GLANCED UP from his computer. He had news, but he wanted to tread lightly. Aziz had texted: Target alive. Glenville dead. Fahd, understandably, was in a mood.
“Sir,” Joram said. “I have intercepted an e-mail.”
“What e-mail?” Fahd said.
“An e-mail to Lance Cabot, sent from Stone Barrington’s computer.”
“Stone Barrington e-mailed Lance Cabot?”
“Apparently not. The e-mail originated from his computer, but the e-mail is signed ‘Felix.’ Isn’t that the name Billy Barnett has been using?”
“What did the e-mail say?”
“‘Belt is buckled. Coming home.’”
Fahd frowned.
“What does it mean?” Fahd said.
“I’m not sure. I’ll keep watch. See what else comes in.”
Fahd went back to his desk and sat, thinking. He was not at all convinced. “Belt is buckled”? What did that mean? Presumably that Billy Barnett had done the job. Could he possibly think Glenville was the mole, that taking him out solved the problem? No, Glenville didn’t work for the CIA. He was a hired thug, plain and simple—and not a particularly good one. So why was Billy Barnett going home?
Fahd didn’t care why, so long as he actually left. This e-mail was no real indication. He needed proof.
Fahd texted Aziz: Target may be leaving town. Be alert for trip to airport. Good if he leaves, but verify.
47.
IN THE MORNING Teddy checked in with Jacques at the café.
Jacques was apologetic. “I did the best I could. There are three American big-game hunters scheduled to attend the panel. One is in Seattle, one is in Miami. Both are flying to Paris on the same day they are checking into l’Arrington. They have no side excursions before that.
“The third is Floyd Maitland of Dallas, Texas. He flew out two days ago and is currently vacationing at a beach on the Mediterranean.”
“Where?”
“In Nice.”
“He’s already in France?”
“Yes. He plans to stay there until his flight to Paris.”
Teddy smiled. “Interesting. Do you have a picture?”
Jacques swung the laptop around and showed him. “Maitland is a stereotypical Texan with a handlebar moustache and a Stetson hat.”
“Does he always wear that hat, or just for photos?”
“I googled him and got this.”
Jacques called up the images he’d saved. Apparently Maitland always wore the hat, even in the candid shots. Blue jeans and a leather belt with a large buckle completed the picture.
“I don’t suppose you have a recording of his voice?”
Jacques clicked on video and played a YouTube clip of Maitland addressing a dinner crowd of cattle ranchers.
“Tell me something. Does Maitland seem like a good guy, aside from his desire to kill defenseless animals?”
“Not at all. He’s an oilman, but he’s rumored to have made as much money trafficking undocumented immigrants to work as slaves on farms, in factories, or worse. A very bad man.”
Teddy nodded his approval. “Listen, Jacques, I’ve been called home. I’ll be leaving today.”
“Is anything wrong?”
“Just bureaucratic bullshit. I hope to be back. Be alert for an encrypted e-mail.”
48.
MILLIE MET Lance Cabot in front of the Washington Monument.
“Is this really necessary?” Lance said.
“Our friend thinks so,” Millie said. Millie was in plain clothes and could have passed as a CIA agent. Lance wondered if that was what she was angling for.
“Why? The mission is over. He’s on his way home.”
“He e-mailed you directly?”
“That’s right.” Lance’s face fell. “Oh, shit.”
Millie smiled. “You figured there was no need for back channels because the job was done, which is just what he wanted it to look like. Here’s the real message: He hasn’t found the mole yet, but he’s working on it. He hopes to have results soon.”
“Oh, he does, does he? What progress has he made?”
“He didn’t say. He just wanted to alert you to the fact that the mole may be the least of our problems.”
Lance’s mouth fell open. “A mole working inside the CIA is ‘the least of our problems’? What could be worse than that?”
“He didn’t specify, but he thinks it’s something big.”
“He told you nothing specific?”
“He did say people were trying to kill him.”
“I know how they feel,” Lance said. “He didn’t tell you anything about whatever it is that he thinks is more important than the job I sent him to do there?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Did he tell you anything about the attempts on his life?”
“He said they failed.”
“No kidding. Tell me, is he actually working on this, or is he just having fun?”
“He says: ‘It’s not fun, it’s hard work and it’s dangerous—and stop griping about it and giving Millie a hard time.’”
“He didn’t say that.”
“Yes, he did.”
“He anticipated the question?”
“Word for word.” Millie cocked her head. “Kind of makes you want to trust his instincts, don’t you think?”
49.
TEDDY HAD TEXTED Kristin, Tied up tonight, see you tomorrow. He figured as a CIA agent she should accept that as a matter of course.
As a woman, he figured, she probably wouldn’t.
He figured right.
“Big night last night?” Kristin said, when Teddy checked in at the embassy.
Teddy shrugged. “Average. I’m making progress.”
“With whom?”
“A fat Russian spy. He was playing hard to get, but I lured him with my cypher code.”
Kristin laughed. “You’re terrible.”
He took her out to lunch and tried to prepare her for what was to come. “I’ll be leaving soon. I may not have a chance to say goodbye.”