Mike Lawson - House Divided

Claire sat back and smiled.

The smile lasted about three seconds,

“Claire,” Gilbert said, “right before DeMarco called Dillon a call was made from that same phone booth to an FBI agent named Diane Carlucci.”

“Aw, shit.”

Two seconds later, another technician turned away from his monitor and said, “Claire, DeMarco used an ATM at the Hyatt before he left there.”

“Oh, that idiot!”

“He used an ATM when he was at the Hyatt,” Claire said.

“That’s not good,” Dillon said.

“Yeah, but that’s not the worst news. Right before he called you, it looks like he called an FBI agent named Diane Carlucci.”

Dillon closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and said, “How long was he on the phone with her?”

“Thirty-eight seconds.”

“He couldn’t have told her the whole story in that amount of time. He probably set up a meeting with her. Carlucci must be someone he trusts at the Bureau, maybe someone he’s worked with before.”

“Do you want me to find out?”

“No, we don’t have time for that. Find out what Carlucci knows and stop her from meeting with DeMarco.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Claire asked.

“Talk to the woman, Claire. Be convincing.”

Walking back into the operations room, Claire said, “Where’s DeMarco now?”

Using a laser pointer, Gilbert placed a red dot on the front entrance of a building that was visible on the wall-mounted screen. The image of the building was coming from the satellite they’d used to follow DeMarco.

“He’s right there,” the tech said, “in that coffee shop.”

“Good. Stay on the bastard,” she said.

Claire went into her office, shut the door, and dialed a phone number.

“This is Agent Carlucci.”

“Agent, my name is Claire Whiting. I work for the National Security Agency.”

“Five minutes ago DeMarco used his ATM card at the Hyatt Regency in Crystal City,” Perkins said.

“Good work, Perkins,” Levy said. He sat for a moment, thinking, and then said, “Fax a photograph of DeMarco to the front desk of the Hyatt. I’ll take it from there.”

Levy waited three minutes and called the Hyatt. “This is Agent Douglas Kirk, United States Secret Service.”

The person at the Hyatt who’d answered the phone inhaled sharply and said, “What?”-the reaction you’d expect from a person who’s just been told he’s talking to the Secret Service.

“This is urgent,” Levy said, “and involves the protection of the president of the United States. You’ve just been faxed a photograph of a man. Do you have the fax?”

“Lemme see,” the man said. Two minutes later he was back on the line, sounding breathless. “Yeah, I’ve got it. What’s this about?”

“Do you recognize the man in the photo?”

“Oh, my God! He was here just a few minutes ago. He used a pay phone.”

“Did he use the ATM?”

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

“Did you see where he went after he used the ATM?”

“He left the hotel.”

“In which direction was he headed?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see outside the hotel from the front desk. But wait a minute. I’ll go ask the parking valet.” A moment later the clerk was back on the phone. “The valet said he caught a cab.”

“Which cab company?”

“He just said it was a maroon-colored taxi.”

“Thank you, sir. We appreciate your help.” Levy hung up and immediately called Perkins. “Perkins, DeMarco took a maroon-colored cab from the Hyatt after he used the ATM. Figure out which company he used and find out where the cab took him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Agent Carlucci,” Claire said, “you received a phone call from a man named Joseph DeMarco about fifteen minutes ago.”

“How do you know that?” Diane said.

“Did you hear what I said when I introduced myself? I said I work for the National Security Agency. We’ve been watching DeMarco.”

There was a pause as Carlucci absorbed that shocking nugget. “Why?” she asked.

“I can’t tell you,” Claire said. “You don’t have need to know.”

“How do I know you’re NSA?”

“You mean other than the fact that I know DeMarco called you? Well, call the agency. We’re in the book. Ask for me. Or call anyone you know at the NSA and have them verify I work here.”

“I don’t know anyone at the NSA.”

“Agent Carlucci, I need to know what DeMarco told you.”

“If you know he called me, why don’t you know what he said?”

“Because we didn’t have a warrant to tap the phone he was using. Now will you please tell me what he told you, or do you want my director to call your director?”

Carlucci went silent again, probably thinking: Go ahead. Call my director. Claire had already gotten the impression that there was some steel in Carlucci and she wasn’t going to be able to walk right over her.

“Okay, Carlucci,” Claire said. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but…”

Claire was treading on dangerous ground here. She didn’t know what DeMarco might have told Carlucci, but she agreed with Dillon that he wasn’t on the phone long enough to have told her the whole story.

“… but DeMarco has been dating a woman who works for the CIA and this woman is currently in Afghanistan. The other night she called DeMarco. We know this because we monitor almost all communications coming from that part of the world. Well, what DeMarco’s lady friend passed on to him is controversial. Politically controversial. And it involves the CIA, the NSA, and high-ranking members of the U.S. military. I’m sorry to be so cryptic, but that’s all I can tell you.”

“Joe said it involved the FBI.”

“Only in a peripheral way. DeMarco’s girlfriend disagrees with what her superiors are doing in Afghanistan regarding a particular operation and when her chain of command wouldn’t listen to her she spoke to the FBI’s legal attache in Kabul. The attache had the good sense to know this was not an issue in which he should get involved, he told Ms. DiCapria’s superiors that she was talking out of school, and now Ms. DiCapria is in hot water, both legally and professionally.”

“And if I call our legal attache in Kabul, he’ll confirm this?” Carlucci said.

“No, he won’t,” Claire said. “This operation is highly classified and strictly need to know. But I imagine five minutes after you talk the attache, the FBI’s Office of Professional Responsibility will be in your office asking how it is you happen to have information on this subject.”

“Why would Joe call me about this?”

“I won’t know that until you tell me what he said to you.”

Claire held her breath until Carlucci responded.

“All he said was that he needed to see me, that he couldn’t talk on the phone, and that it involved the FBI.”

“That’s all he said?”

“Yes.”

Thank God!

“The only thing I can assume, Agent Carlucci, is that DeMarco’s trying to help his girlfriend. May I ask what your relationship is with DeMarco?”

“We were involved with each other about three years ago but I’m married now.”

“I see,” Claire said. “Well, all I can think is that DeMarco is trying to take advantage of your former relationship. Agent, I can’t order you not to meet with DeMarco, but believe me when I tell you that doing so would not be a career-enhancing move.”

Carlucci didn’t say anything.

“When were you supposed to meet him?”

“In half an hour.”

“Where?” Claire said.

“I thought you guys were following him,” Carlucci said.

Claire almost laughed. Carlucci was testing her.

“We are. Right now he’s sitting in a coffee shop in Rosslyn on Wilson Boulevard.”