“And if we can bring them out, then what case do we have?” Murray asked. “Everybody runs for cover, papers get shredded…”
“If I may make a suggestion, gentlemen, why don’t we forget about courtrooms for the moment and try to concentrate on getting those grunts the hell out of Indian country?”
“Getting them out is fine, but -”
“You think your case will get better with thirty or forty new victims?” Ryan snapped. “What is the objective here?”
“That was a cheap shot, Jack,” Murray said.
“Where’s your case? What if the President authorized the operation, with Cutter as his go-between, and there’s no written orders? CIA acted in accordance with verbal orders, and the orders are arguably legal, except that I got told to mislead Congress if they ask, which they haven’t done yet! There’s also that little kink in the law that says we can start a covert operation without telling them, no matter what it is – the limits on our covert ops come from a White House Executive Order, remember – as long as we do get around to telling them. Therefore a killing authorized by the guy who puts out the Executive Order can only become a murder retroactively if something extraneous to the murder itself does not happen! What bonehead ever set these statutes up? Have they ever really been tested in court?”
“You left something out,” Murray observed.
“Yeah, the most obvious reply from Cutter is that this isn’t a covert operation at all, but a paramilitary counterterrorist op. That evades the whole issue of intelligence-oversight. Now we come under the War Powers Resolution, which has another lead-time factor. Have any of these laws ever been tested in court?”
“Not really,” Shaw answered. “There’s been a lot of dancing around, but nothing actually on point. War-Powers especially is a constitutional question that both sides are afraid to put in front of a judge. Where are you coming from, Ryan?”
“I got an agency to protect, don’t I? If this adventure goes public, the CIA reverts back to what it was in the seventies. For example, what happens to your counterterrorist programs if the info we feed you dries up?” That one scored points, Jack saw. CIA was the silent partner in the war on terrorism, feeding most of its data to the Bureau, as Shaw had every reason to know. “On the other hand, from what we’ve talked about the last couple of days, what real case do you have?”
“If by withdrawing support for SHOWBOAT, Cutter made it easier for Cortez to kill them, we have a violation of the District of Columbia law against conspiracy to commit murder. In the absence of a federal law, a crime committed on federal property can be handled by the municipal law that applies to the violation. Some part of what he did was accomplished here or on other federal property, and that’s where the jurisdiction comes from. That’s how we investigated the cases back in the seventies.”
“What cases were they?” Jack asked Shaw.
“It spun out of the Church Committee hearings. We investigated assassination plots by CIA against Castro and some others – they never came to trial. The law we would have used was the conspiracy statute, but the constitutional issues were so murky that the investigation died a natural death, much to everyone’s relief.”
“Same thing here, isn’t it? Except while we fiddle…”
“You’ve made your point,” the acting Director said. “Number one priority is getting them out, any way we can. Is there a way to do it covertly?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Look, for starters let’s get in touch with your field officer,” Murray suggested.
“He doesn’t -”
“He gets immunity, anything he wants,” Shaw said at once. “My word on it. Hell, far as I can tell he hasn’t really broken any laws anyway – because of Martinez-Barker – but you have my word, Ryan, no harm comes to him.”
“Okay.” Jack pulled the slip of paper from his shirt pocket. The number Clark had given him wasn’t a real number, of course, but by adding and subtracting to the digits in a prearranged way, the call went through.
“This is Ryan. I’m calling from FBI Headquarters. Hold on and listen.” Jack handed the phone over.
“This is Bill Shaw. I’m acting Director. Number one, I just told Ryan that you are in the clear. My word: no action goes against you. Will you trust me on that? Good.” Shaw smiled in no small surprise. “Okay, this is a secure line, and I presume that your end is the same way. I need to know what you think is going on, and what you think we can do about it. We know about the kids, and we’re looking for a way to get them out. From what Jack tells us, you might have some ideas. Let’s hear them.” Shaw punched the speaker button on his phone, and everyone started taking notes.
“How fast do you think we can have the radios set up?” Ryan wondered when Clark had finished.
“The technicians start getting in around seven-thirty, figure by lunch. What about transport?”
“I think I can handle that,” Jack said. “If you want covert, I can arrange covert. It means letting somebody else in, but it’s somebody we can trust.”
“No way we can talk to them?” Shaw asked Clark, whose name he didn’t yet know.
“Negative,” the speaker said. “You sure you can pull it off on your end?”
“No, but we can give it a pretty good try,” Shaw replied.
“See you tonight, then.” The line clicked off.
“Now all we have to do is steal some airplanes,” Murray thought aloud. “Maybe a ship, too? So much the better if we bring it off covertly, right?”
“Huh?” That one threw Ryan. Murray explained.
Admiral Cutter emerged from his house at 6:15 for his daily jog. He headed downhill toward the river and chugged along the path paralleling the George Washington Parkway. Inspector O’Day followed. A reformed smoker, the inspector had no problems keeping up, and watched for anything unusual, but nothing appeared. No messages passed, no dead-drops laid, just a middle-aged man trying to keep fit. Another agent picked him up as Cutter turned for home. O’Day would change and be ready to follow Cutter into work, wondering if he’d spot some unusual behavior there.
Jack showed up for work at the usual hour, looking as tired as he felt. The morning conference in Judge Moore’s office began at 8:30, and for once there was a full crew, though there might as well not have been. The DCI and DDO, he saw, were quiet, nodding but not taking very many notes.
These were – well, not friends, Ryan thought. Admiral Greer had been a friend and mentor. But Judge Moore had been a good boss, and though he and Ritter had never really gotten along, the DDO had never treated him unfairly. He had to give them one more chance, Jack told himself impulsively. When the conference ended, he was slow picking up his things while the others left. Moore caught the cue, as did Ritter.
“Jack, you want to say something?”
“I’m not sure I’m right for DDI,” Ryan opened.
“Why do you say that?” Judge Moore asked.
“Something’s happening that you aren’t telling me about. If you don’t trust me, I shouldn’t have the job.”
“Orders,” Ritter said. He was unable to hide his discomfort.
“Then you look me straight in the eye and tell me it’s all legitimate. I’m supposed to know. I have a right to know.” Ritter looked to Judge Moore.
“I wish we were able to let you in on this, Dr. Ryan,” the DCI said. He tried to bring his eyes up to meet Jack’s, but they wavered and fixed on a spot of wall. “But I have to follow orders, too.”
“Okay. I’ve got some leave coming. I want to think a few things over. My work is all caught up. I’m out of here for a few days, starting in an hour.”
“The funeral’s tomorrow, Jack.”
“I know. I’ll be there, Judge,” Ryan lied. Then he left the room.
“He knows,” Moore said after the door closed.
“No way.”
“He knows and he wants to be out of the office.”
“So what do we do about it if you’re right?”
The Director of Central Intelligence looked up this time. “Nothing. That’s the best thing we can do right now.”
That was clear. Cutter had done better than he knew. In destroying the radio encryption codes needed to communicate with the four teams, KNIFE, BANNER, FEATURE, and OMEN, he’d eliminated the Agency’s ability to affect the turn of events. Neither Ritter nor Moore really expected the National Security Adviser to get the men out, but they had no alternative that would not damage themselves, the Agency, and their President – and, incidentally, their country. If Ryan wanted out of the way if things came apart – well, Moore thought, maybe he had sensed something. The DCI didn’t blame him for wanting to stay clear.