Ludlum, Robert - The Icarus Agenda

'To contact the one man who can keep us—or conceivably the collective you—completely and officially informed. The man who was Varak's informer from the beginning, the one without whom Milos could never have done what he did. When our Czech uncovered the discrepancy in the State Department's logs sixteen months ago, the omission that had Kendrick listed as entering the State Department but with no record of his departure, Varak knew where to look. What he found was not only a willing informer but a dedicated one… Milos is, of course, irreplaceable, but in this day of high technology, our new co-ordinator is among the most rapidly rising young officials in government. There isn't a major department or agency in Washington that's not vying for his services, and the private sector has offered him contracts reserved for former presidents and secretaries of state at least twice his age.'

'He must be a hell of a lawyer or the youngest foreign service expert on record,' interjected Margaret Lowell.

'He's neither,' countered the white-haired spokesman of Inver Brass. 'He's considered the foremost technologist of computer science in the country, perhaps in the West. Fortunately for us, he comes from considerable wealth and isn't tempted by private industry. In his way he's as committed as Milos Varak in pursuit of the nation's excellence… In essence, he was one of us when he understood his gifts.' Winters leaned forward over the table and pressed an ivory button. 'Will you come in, please?'

The heavy door of the extraordinary library opened and in the frame stood a young man still in his twenties. What set him apart from most others of his age were his striking looks; it was as though he had walked out of a glossy advertisement for men's fashions in an expensive magazine. Yet his clothes were subdued, neither tailored nor cheap… just ordinarily neat. It was the chiselled, nearly idealized Grecian face that was startling.

'He should forget computers,' said Jacob Mandel quietly. 'I have friends at the William Morris Agency. They'll get him a television series.'

'Do come in, please,' interrupted Winters, placing his hand over Mandel's arm. 'And, if you will, introduce yourself.’

The young man walked confidently but without arrogance to the west end of the table below the black cylinder that when lowered was a screen. He stood for a moment looking down at the pools of light on the table.

'It's a particular honour for me to be here,' he said pleasantly. 'My name is Gerald Bryce, and I am currently director of GCO, Department of State.'

'GCO?' asked Mandel. 'Another alphabet?'

'Global Computer Operations, sir.'

* * *

The California sun streamed through the windows of the hospital room as Khalehla, her arms around Evan, gradually released him. She sat back on the bed above him and smiled wanly, her eyes glistening from the residue of tears, her light olive skin so pale. 'Welcome to the land of the living,' she said, gripping his hand.

'Glad to be here,' whispered Kendrick weakly, staring at her. 'When I opened my eyes, I wasn't sure it was you or whether I was… whether they were playing more tricks on me.'

'Tricks?'

'They took my clothes… I was in some old corduroy pants—then I was back in my suit—my blue—’

'Your “congressional threads”, I believe you called them,' interrupted Khalehla gently. 'You'll have to get another suit, my darling. What was left of your trousers after they cut them away was beyond a tailor.'

'Extravagant girl… Christ, do you know how good it is to see you? I never thought I'd see you again—it made me so goddamned angry.'

'I know how good it is to see you. That hotel carpet has been worn through… Rest now; we'll talk later. You just woke up and the doctors said—’

'No… To hell with the doctors, I want to know what's happened. How's Emilio?'

'He'll make it, but one lung is gone and his hip is shattered. He'll never walk properly again, but he's alive.'

'He doesn't have to walk, just sit in a captain's chair.'

'What?'

'Forget it… The island. It's called Passage to China—’

'We know,' broke in Khalehla firmly. 'Since you're so rotten stubborn, let me do the talking… What you and Carallo did was incredible—’

'Carallo?… Emilio?'

'Yes. I've seen the photographs—my God, what a mess! The fire spread everywhere, especially over the east side of the island. The house, the grounds, even the dock where the other boats exploded—gone; all gone. By the time the Navy choppers arrived with Marine assault troops, everyone on the place was frightened to death and waiting on the west beaches. They greeted our people as if we were liberators.'

'Then they got Grinell.'

Khalehla looked down at Evan; she paused, then shook her head. 'No. I'm sorry, darling.'

'How…?' Kendrick started to rise, wincing at the pain in his stitched and bandaged shoulder. Again gently, Rashad held him, lowering him down on the pillow. 'He couldn't have got away! They didn't look!'

They didn't have to. The Mexicans told them.'

'What? How?'

'A seaplane flew out and picked up the hombrepatron.'

'I don't understand. All communications were out!'

'Not all. What you didn't know—couldn't know—was that Grinell had small auxiliary generators in the cellar of the main house with enough power to reach his people at an airfield in San Felipe—we've learned that much from the Mexican transmission authorities; not who but where. He can run and even disappear, but he can't hide forever; we've got the tail of a trail.'

'Very alliterative, as my executioner might say.'

'What?'

'Forget it—'

'I wish you'd stop saying that.'

'Sorry, I mean it. What about Ardis's lawyer and the ledger I told you about?'

'Again, we're closing in but we're not there yet. He's taken a hike somewhere, but where no one knows. All his phones are monitored and sooner or later he'll have to call one of them. When he does, we'll have him.'

'Could he have any idea that you're after him?'

'It's the big question. Grinell was able to reach the mainland, and through San Felipe he could have sent word to Ardis's lawyer. We simply don't know.'

'Manny?' asked Evan hesitantly. 'Then again you didn't have time—’

'Wrong, I had nothing but time, desperation time, to be exact. I called the hospital in Denver last night, but all the floor nurse could tell me was that he was stable… and, I gather, something of a nuisance.'

'The understatement of the week.' Kendrick closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. 'He's dying, Khalehla. He's dying and there's nothing anyone can do about it.'

'We're all dying, Evan. Every day is one day less of life. That's not much help, but Manny's over eighty and the verdict's not in until it's in.'

'I know,' said Kendrick, looking at their entwined hands then up at her face. 'You're a beautiful lady, aren't you?'

'It's not something I dwell on, but I suppose I'll pass for okay-plus. You're not exactly Quasimodo yourself.'

'No, I just walk like him… It's not very modest but our kids have a fair chance of being decent looking little bastards.'

'I'm all for the first part but somewhat dubious about the second.'

'You understand that you just agreed to marry me, don't you?'

'Try getting away from me and you'll find out how really good I am with a gun.'

'That's nice. “… Oh, Mrs. Jones, have you met my wife, the gunslinger? If anyone's crashed your party, she'll nail him right between the eyes.”'

'I'm also black belt, first class, in case a weapon makes too much noise.'

'Hey, terrific. Nobody's going to push me around any more. Pick a fight with me, I'll let her off the leash.'

'Grrrr,' growled Khalehla, baring her bright lovely teeth, then composing her face, looking down as if studying him, her dark eyes soft, floating. 'I do love you. God knows what we two misfits think we're doing, but I guess we're going to give it a try.'