Doug massaged each wrist with the opposite hand, then knelt and began gathering up the tape and the larger bits of the cassette as well. Elaine said, “It might reassure him, you know.”
“He’ll be happy enough if he doesn’t get a call from Housekeeping about the blood on ‘is upholstery,” the veteran said with a savage laugh. “Look, let’s get this over, okay? I said I was going, didn’t I?”
The attache case contained no files or papers of any sort, not even a manila envelope into which Doug could pour the remnants of the tape cassette, so they had to lie loose on the nylon-covered polyurethane foam instead. There was, however, a compact two-way radio in a fitted niche. The radio had no nameplate or manufacturer’s information on it, but neither was the unit a piece of government-issue hardware that Kelly recognized. Well, he’d been out – way out – for three years, and equipment was the least of what might change.
The stub of the coiled whip antenna bobbled as Doug spoke into the radio, glaring unconsciously at Kelly as he did so. All data was useful somewhere, in some intelligence paradise – you couldn’t spend a big chunk of your life in Collection and not think so. But it was only reflex that made Kelly’s mind focus on the chance of hearing a one-time-only code word, and that no more than the means of summoning a car. Doug’s bridling was an empty reflex as well – and both reactions were complicated by the fact that each of the men had been top dog for a long time, in ways that had nothing to do with chains of command.
Kelly was just loose enough at the moment to both recognize the situation and find it amusing. “Hey, junior,” he said to Doug as the radio crackled a muted, unintelligible reply, “I think you lost your place in the pecking order.”
“Let’s go,” said Elaine in a neutral voice, waving Doug out the door ahead of her and falling in behind him – separating the men since she knew that Bianci’s aide must be last out of the office to lock up.
The guard tonight at the side entrance of the Longworth Building was a heavy black woman. Kelly had seen and smiled at her a hundred times over the years as she rummaged harmlessly through whatever briefcase he happened to be carrying. It wasn’t an effective way to defeat a serious attempt to blow up the building, but it didn’t hurt Kelly – who, even when he was on active duty, had not traveled with documents he minded other people inspecting.
Today the guard drew back as she saw the trio approaching her post from down the corridor. “Good night, Ethel,” Kelly called, never too tired – or wired – to be pleasant to anybody with a dismal job like guard, refuse collector, or code clerk.
This time Ethel only nodded back, her concentration preoccupied by Doug and the Halliburton he had carefully locked. There was no reason in the world not to have opened the case like a citizen when he entered the building. Instead, Doug had obviously flashed credentials that had piqued the curiosity of even a guard who saw the stream of visitors to members of the House of Representatives. It was the same sort of bass-ackwardness that caused CIA officers operating under embassy cover in foreign venues to be issued non-American cars. They could therefore be separated with eighty percent certainty from the real State Department personnel by anyone who bothered to check traffic through the embassy gates.
“By the way,” Kelly goaded in a voice that echoed on the marble, “who do you work for? SAVE? Or are you Joint Chiefs Support Activity?”
“You stupid bastard,” Doug snarled, twisting in midmotion to glare at the other man, his palm thumping on the door’s glass panel instead of the push bar.
“Mr. Kelly.” said Elaine as she reached past her companion to thrust the door open, “you might consider whether in a worst-case scenario you wish to have involved a number of outsiders in this matter.” Her voice was clear but not loud, losing itself in the rush of outside air chilled by the shower that had been threatening all day.