Brian Freemantle - The Watchmen

“That’s what I’m going to have him tell me when he gets over the phony stress attack,” promised Pamela. The case-closing break had only been postponed, and not for long. The collapse had been phony, when he’d known he was going over the edge: worked once but it wouldn’t work again. Next time she was going to make sure he went over the edge and broke into a lot of little pieces.

It was William Cowley’s idea to return to America, which in the normal circumstances of a normal investigation he wouldn’t have cleared first with the director. He did in these abnormal circumstances, left in no doubt that Leonard Ross held him to some degree responsible for lifting the street surveillance on the Nikitskij cul-de-sac. He made the approach a request to let some of the team he’d taken with him remain in Moscow, with Barry Martlew as supervisor.

“There’s a lot happening here,” agreed Ross. “But you sure there’s nothing else to do in Moscow?”

“Nothing that Martlew can’t handle. Or the Warsaw station.”

“Give it a couple of days,” insisted the director. Ominously he added, “I want your personal assurance we’re covered on all bases. Pamela seems to have things in hand here.”

“I’d like to come with you,” said Danilov, meaning it, when Cowley told him.

“I’d like it, too, but there’ll need to be a lot of coordination between both places,” reminded Cowley.

“Let’s hope we get it right.” At once Danilov said, “That didn’t come out as it was meant to. It wasn’t a criticism of you. It was the right decision: I’m sorry.”

Cowley smiled, ruefully. “Get up off your knees. I know it wasn’t a crack.”

“You going to be all right?” Danilov asked seriously.

“It’ll blow over. You know the saying.”

“The buck stops here,” provided Danilov.

“Or where it’s most convenient,” qualified the American.

Danilov was suddenly caught by the thought that the aphorism of a long-ago American president was probably more appropriate for him than for Cowley. Chelyag was now initiating the approaches, but with the passage of days what had seemed as protective knowledge didn’t appear as strong as he’d first thought. And the political embarrassment it would cause ended when the case did. Danilov acknowledged that ironically his future would be best safeguarded by the case not, in fact, being solved at all.

“I liked the other car!” protested Elizabeth Hollis. “Everyone drives Fords like this.”

“I told you,” said Hollis. “It was an economy decision that I return it. There’ll be a policy change soon. We’ll get another one just like it.” Hollis didn’t like being reminded of the one extravagance that might have made people curious.

“You’ve heard that news already on the other channel,” complained the cantankerous woman, jabbing an arthritically twisted finger toward the radio.

“I wanted to check something, make sure I didn’t mishear,” said Hollis. There should surely have been a public FBI announcement by now? He didn’t understand it.

He’d specifically timed their arrival at the mall the General had designated and was walking his mother by the telephone on their way to J. C. Penney when the public telephone rang. He continued on by without pausing, looking back only when the ringing stopped. A boy of about eighteen in jeans and a back-to-front ball cap was shaking his head. He was still shaking it when he put the phone down and walked away.

The announcement Hollis was anxious to hear concerned Robert Standing, but as they’d arrested him, the FBI must have a lead from the Cyber Shack to the General. Who, wondered Hollis, would the General turn out to be?

Robert Standing was charged with larceny, despite passing a polygraph test that went beyond the bank stealing to include every attack the Watchmen had committed or attempted. The man did not break down or cry, although he did perspire heavily during his second encounter with Pamela Darnley. After that the New York State district attorney, who’d appointed himself prosecutor, demanded further corroborating evidence of Watchmen association before permitting a third attempt to obtain an admission linking Standing to the terrorists.

With the agreement of both a subdued Albert Lang and his client, bail was discussed in camera before a judge. The term “national security” was repeatedly invoked by the New York state lawyer. He’d been in frequent contact with the Justice Department in Washington and was aware of the political platform an eventual trial would provide. Bail was not sought after the judge indicated it would be set at millions. The publicity-attracting sum would jeopardize the unbiased fairness of any jury.

Throughout the legal maneuverings Pamela Darnley seethed at what she considered the second lost breakthrough opportunity. She briefly considered moving Terry Osnan as Albany agent in charge to head up the continuing investigation there until deciding the man’s total command and knowledge of the Washington incident room would be weakened. Instead she put Anne Stovey in charge of three drafted-in agents with the instructions to find out more about Robert Standing than he knew about himself.

To herself privately and to Anne Stovey very openly Pamela vowed to find another Watchmen tie-in to justify a third confrontation with the bank official. It was Anne Stovey who suggested tracing any association Standing or his family might have with any branch of the military. Allowing Anne the credit-and the chance to tell her official supervisor of her own supervisory promotion-Pamela let Anne ask Osnan to initiate the Pentagon check, taking over the telephone only to ensure that the Chicago e-fit image and the full, detailed description of the General was being run through all military records, past and present, and even extended to the navy, despite the rank.

It was during the call that she learned of William Cowley’s impending return to Washington. She said, “Atmosphere any better there?”

“No,” Osnan said shortly. “Got something to run by you when you get back.”

“Why not now?”

“Not the time or the place,” refused the man. “It’s personal.”

Pamela spent the return flight mentally examining the past few days, searching for oversights. She had forgotten Osnan’s remark when she entered the J. Edgar Hoover building to find another setback awaiting her.

“Problem,” announced John Meadowcraft when she returned his call. “Both Guzov and Kabanov are using two different cell phones. But there’s only one issued in each name. They must have the other under other names.”

“How’s that affect us scanning in?” queried Pamela.

“They don’t use it to talk,” declared the man.

“I don’t understand.”

“Each number on a cell phone pad also represents three letters of the alphabet and can be used to send text messages: no conversation.”

“Which we can’t break into?”

“The experts say it would be difficult, even if we had the number. We’ve only caught them using text on a few occasions, always in the parking lot of their realtor building. I sent a gal in looking for apartments. She saw Kabanov and Guzov both hammering away separately. They’ve only got one floor of a twenty-story building. So many phones it sounds like a bird aviary scanned from outside.”

“There must be something!”

“I spent the morning with virtually every electronics expert we’ve got.”

“Bank statements!” she demanded. “They have to pay!”

“Sure they do,” agreed the Trenton bureau head. “But not off any statement we’ve accessed, private or company. It’s either cash-and we haven’t followed either to any cell phone office or outlet-or a check in the name in which they hold the phones. And we don’t have that name, so we’re back where we started.”