W. Griffin - Covert Warriors

“And who might that be? Castillo?”

“Him, too, but I was speaking of Aleksandr Pevsner.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then Lammelle asked, “How reliable is that?”

“From the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

“What’s that all about?”

“Pevsner apparently believes Putin is behind the whole thing, and is after not only Charley and the Russians again, but is against him, too.”

There was another just perceptible pause.

“And you go along with that?”

“I don’t dismiss it out of hand,” McNab said. “Vic D’Alessandro just came back from Acapulco. He says the drug cartel there. . what’s it called, Vic?”

“The Sinaloa cartel,” D’Alessandro furnished. He raised his voice. “Got you out of bed, did we, Frank?”

“Vic says the Sinaloa cartel had no reason to kidnap Ferris or kill the others. Ferris’s people have been obeying their orders to cooperate with the Federales, which means the cartel knew what we knew.”

“That’s pretty good information, Vic?” Lammelle said.

“I believe it,” D’Alessandro said.

“Tell him what else you learned,” McNab said.

“Mr. Pevsner believes that the best defense is a good offense,” D’Alessandro said.

“Oh, shit!”

“Do you think we should tell Natalie?” McNab asked.

This time there was no hesitation on Lammelle’s part.

“No. Absolutely not!”

“You going to tell me why?”

“I had dinner with her, after that fiasco in Auditorium Three,” Lammelle said. “She pointed out to me something I kicked myself for not realizing.”

“What?”

“We no longer have the threat of impeachment we had hanging over Clendennen’s head. Once we rearranged the Cabinet to our satisfaction, we lost it.”

This time it was McNab who hesitated for a moment-a long moment-before replying.

“She’s right,” he said. “As usual.”

“She says Clendennen thinks we’re planning a coup. First we get him to appoint Montvale as Vice President, then we get rid of Clendennen, either by resignation or impeachment, and Montvale becomes President.”

“Nice thought,” McNab said, “but it never entered my mind until just now. I didn’t even consider Montvale becoming Vice President; that was Crenshaw’s idea.”

Stanley Crenshaw was the attorney general of the United States.

“And Crenshaw, being an honorable, decent man, did what you and I know better than to do: He looked in the mirror.”

McNab knew Lammelle was referring to what would-be intel officers are taught often on the first day-certainly within the first week-of their training: “Never look in the mirror. Your enemy doesn’t think like you do.”

“Did she have anything to say about what happened at Langley?” McNab asked.

“She said that Porky Parker was the first in the long line of people Clendennen plans to knock off, one at a time. Porky’s disappeared, by the way.”

“Yesterday, he and Roscoe Danton were in Cozumel with Castillo.”

“What’s that all about?”

“I don’t have a clue, Frank. Did Natalie tell you what she plans to do?”

“Yes, she did. She recommended that you and I not do anything at all that would give Clendennen a chance to fire us. She said she was going to talk with you. I gather she hasn’t?”

“No. She didn’t say anything about warning Montvale? Or, for that matter, Naylor?”

“I guess she figures both of them haven’t been looking in the mirror. And if Truman Ellsworth has-which I doubt-Montvale will warn him. So far as Naylor goes, I get the feeling that he wouldn’t be grief stricken if Clendennen relieved you.”

“I can’t believe General Naylor would be complicit in something like that.”

“You’re looking in the mirror, General. Naylor the soldier probably wouldn’t. But above a certain level-and Naylor is way above it-senior officers have to be politicians and play by their rules.”

McNab didn’t reply.

“In this,” Lammelle went on, “I’d say that both Natalie and Naylor really believe they’re doing what they do-for the country; it’s not a personal ego trip-better than anyone replacing them would do. And they’re probably right. They want to keep their jobs for the good of the country, and will do whatever they think is necessary to keep them. Naylor thinks you’re dangerous, and you know it. He wouldn’t throw you under the bus, but if somebody else did, he would be able to put someone else in SPECOPSCOM he could control.”

Again McNab didn’t reply.

“I was there,” Lammelle went on, “at Drug Cartel International when Naylor suddenly decided to help. And he even told us why. If Operation March Hare failed, that would’ve been worse for the country than if it succeeded.”

“Is that why you changed sides, Frank? For the good of the country?”

“No. I changed sides because I realized I was being used, by Clendennen, by Montvale, and-maybe especially-by Jack Powell to do something I knew was wrong. And I’m like you, I guess.”

John J. Powell was the former director of the Central Intelligence Agency. Lammelle had replaced Powell when he resigned two months previously.

“What do you mean, you’re like me?”

“I’m a simple soul who sees things in black or white. Sometimes I’m a little slow in making the distinction, but once I do, I try to act accordingly.”

McNab didn’t answer.

“Two things about Natalie. .” Lammelle began, then added: “Why do I have a hard time using your first name?”

“It’s Bruce. Use it.”

“Two things about Natalie, Bruce . Not only does she want to keep her job, but she really believes the way to deal with Mexico-and especially with this latest outrage-is to talk about it and keep talking about it until reason prevails.

“She was willing to resign over Clendennen’s trying to swap Charley, Sweaty, and Dmitri to the Russians. But Charley waging a war in Mexico-especially with Aleksandr Pevsner-that’s something that’ll make her just as mad.”

“So you don’t think I should tell her that Charley just talked Pevsner out of snatching the Russian rezident in Mexico City? They decided to wait until they see if Ferris is hurt; then they’ll whack him.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“The trouble with what you just told me, Frank, is that it all makes sense. It just took me a little time-like a decade-to figure it out.”

“Watch your back, Bruce.”

“You, too.”

McNab closed the lid of the Brick, and then met D’Alessandro’s eyes.

“That was interesting, wasn’t it, Vic?”

“The word that comes to mind is ‘scary,’” D’Alessandro said.

Office of the FBI Liaison Officer United States Special Operations Command Fort Bragg, North Carolina 0750 14 April 2007

When Charles D. Stevens walked into his office, his telephone was ringing. Since his secretary had not yet arrived, he answered it himself.

“FBI, Stevens.”

“Max Caruthers, Stevens. Where the hell have you been? The general’s been looking for you since oh-seven-hundred. No answer at your house, and none at your office until now.”

Stevens had a mental picture of McNab’s huge senior aide-de-camp.

“I must have been driving to work,” Stevens said.

“You didn’t answer your cell phone, either,” Caruthers accused.

Stevens decided that Caruthers would not be interested in his explanation for not answering his cell phone. Not only was talking on a cell phone while driving against the law, he regarded it as dangerous, too.

“What can the FBI do for General McNab, Colonel? Aside from getting that envelope you were asking for? That should be delivered sometime this morning.”