“We don’t have a pool.”
“They start in three weeks.” Jack smiled again. “Doctor Schenk also said that swimming is good therapy for this kind of injury.”
“You’ve been busy,” his wife observed. She was smiling now.
“I was going to get a Newfoundland, but they’re just too big — one-fifty.” Jack didn’t say that his first wish had been to get a dog big and tough enough to tear the head off anyone who came close to his daughter, but that his common sense had prevented it.
“Well, there’s your first job,” Cathy pointed. Jack got a paper towel to clean up the puddle on the tile. Before he could do it, his daughter nearly strangled him with a ferocious hug. It was all he could do to control himself, but he had to. Sally would not have understood why her daddy was crying. The world was back in its proper shape. Now if we can just keep it that way.
“I’ll have the pictures tomorrow. I wanted to get them done before the trees fill in. When they do, you won’t be able to see the house from the road very well.” Alex summarized the results of his reconnaissance.
“What about the alarm?”
Alex read off the data from his notes.
“How the bloody hell did you get that?”
Dobbens chuckled as he popped open the beer. “It’s easy. If you want the data for any kind of burglar alarm, you call the company that did it and say you work for an insurance company. You give them a policy number — you make that up, of course — and they give you all the information you want. Ryan has a perimeter system, and a backup intruder system ‘with keys,’ which means that the alarm company has keys to the house. Somewhere on the property they have infrared beams. Probably on the driveway in the trees. This guy isn’t dumb, Sean.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Okay, I’m just telling you. One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“The kid doesn’t get hurt this time, not the wife either if we can help it.”
“That is not part of the plan,” Miller assured him. You bloody wimp. Sean had learned a new word in America. What sort of revolutionary do you think you are? he didn’t say.
“That’s from my people,” Alex continued, telling only part of the truth. “You gotta understand, Sean, child abuse looks bad over here. It’s not the kind of image we want to have, you dig?”
“And you want to come out with us?”
Dobbens nodded. “It might be necessary.”
“I think we can avoid that. It just means eliminating all the people who see your faces.”
You’re a cold little cocksucker, Dobbens thought, though his words made perfect sense. Dead men told no tales.
“Very well. All we have to do now is find a way to make the security people relax a bit,” the Irishman said. “I’d prefer to avoid brute force.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Alex took a moment before going on. “How do armies succeed?”
“What do you mean?” Miller asked.
“I mean, the great plans, the ones that really work. They all work because you show the other guy something he expects to see, right? You make him go for the fake, but it’s gotta be a really good fake. We have to make them look for the wrong thing in the wrong place, and they have to put the word out.”
“And how do we do that?” After two minutes: “Ah.”
Alex retired to his bedroom a few minutes later, leaving Miller in front of the television to go over his material. On the whole, it had been a very useful trip. The plan was already beginning to take shape. It would require a lot of people, but that came as no surprise.
Curiously, his respect for Alex was now diminished. The man was competent, certainly, even brilliant in his plan for a diversion — but that absurd sentimentality! It was not that Miller reveled in the idea of hurting children, but if that was what the revolution took, then it was a necessary price to pay. Besides, it got people’s attention. It told them that he and his organization were serious. Until Alex got over that, he’d never be successful. But that wasn’t Miller’s problem. Part One of the operation was now outlined in his mind. Part Two was already drawn up, already had been aborted once. But not this time. Miller promised himself.
By noon the following day, Alex had handed him the photos and driven him to an outlying station of the D.C. Metro. Miller took the subway train to National Airport to catch the first of four flights that would take him home.
Jack walked into Sally’s bedroom just before eleven. The dog — his daughter had named him Ernie — was an invisible shape in the corner. This was one of the smartest things he had ever done. Sally was too much in love with Ernie to dwell on her injuries, and she chased after him as fast as her weakened legs would allow. That was enough to make her father overlook the chewed shoes and occasional mistakes with which the dog was littering the house. In a few weeks she’d be back to normal. Jack adjusted the covers slightly before leaving. Cathy was already in bed when he got there.
“Is she okay?”
“Sleeping like an angel,” Jack replied as he slid in beside her.
“And Ernie?”
“He’s in there somewhere. I could hear his tail hitting the wall.” He wrapped his arms around her. It was hard getting close to her now. He ran one hand down to her abdomen, feeling the shape of his unborn child. “How’s the next one?”
“Quiet, finally. God, he’s an active one. Don’t wake him up.”
It struck Jack as an absurd idea that babies were awake before they were born, but you couldn’t argue with a doctor. “He?”
“That’s what Madge says.”
“What’s she say about you?” He felt her ribs next. They were too prominent. His wife had always been slender, but this was too much.
“I’m gaining the weight back,” Cathy answered. “You don’t have to worry. Everything’s fine.”
“Good.” He kissed her.
“Is that all I get?” he heard from the darkness.
“You think you can handle more?”
“Jack, I don’t have to go to work tomorrow,” she pointed out.
“But some of us do,” he protested, but soon found that his heart wasn’t in it.
Chapter 21
Plans
“He is thorough,” O’Donnell observed. Miller had returned with the aerial photographs that Dobbens had copied, topographic maps, and photos of Ryan’s home from the land and water sides. Added to these were typed notes of the observations made by his people and other data thought to be of interest.
“Unfortunately he allows his personal feelings to interfere with his activities,” Miller observed coolly.
“And you don’t, Sean?” O’Donnell chided gently.
“It won’t happen again,” his operations officer promised.
“That’s good. The important thing about mistakes is that we learn from them. So let’s go over your proposed operation.”
Sean took out two other maps and spent twenty minutes running through his ideas. He concluded with Dobbens’ suggestion for a diversion.
“I like it.” He turned to his intelligence chief. “Michael?”
“The opposition will be formidable, of course, but the plan allows for that. The only thing that worries me is that it will take nearly all of our people to do it.”
“Nothing else looks feasible,” Miller replied. “It’s not so much a question of getting close enough, but of leaving the area after the mission is accomplished. Timing is crucial –”
“And when timing is crucial, simplicity is a must.” O’Donnell nodded. “Is there anything else that the opposition might try?”
“I think not,” McKenney said. “This is the worst-case expectation.”
“Helicopters,” Miller said. “They nearly did for us the last time. No real problem if we’re prepared for it, but we must be prepared.”
“Very well,” O’Donnell said. “And the second part of the operation?”
“Obviously we need to know where all the targets will be,” McKenney said. “When do you want me to activate our people?” On orders, the intelligence chief’s penetration agents had been quiescent for some weeks.
“Not just yet,” the Commander replied thoughtfully. “Again a question of timing. Sean?”
“I think we should wait until the mission is fully accomplished before moving.”
“Yes, it proved to be a good idea the last time,” the Commander agreed. “How many people are needed for your operation?”
“No less than fifteen. I think we can depend on Alex for three trained men, himself included. More than that — no, we should limit his participation as much as possible.”
“Agreed,” McKenney said.
“And training?” O’Donnell asked.
“The most we’ve ever done.”
“To start when?”
“A month beforehand,” Miller answered. “Any more time would be a waste of resources. For the moment I have quite a lot of work to do.”