The Icarus Agenda by Robert Ludlum

‘She’s the only one left, Manny. The others wouldn’t; they couldn’t.’

‘Then there are others beyond others.’

‘For God’s sake, u’/io? These were the only people who knew I was there.’

‘You just said this Swann told you a blond creep with a foreign accent figured you were in Masqat. Where did he get his information?’

‘No one can find him, not even the White House.’

‘Maybe I know people who can find him,’ interrupted Weingrass.

‘No, Manny,’ insisted Kendrick firmly. ‘This isn’t Paris and those Israelis are way off limits. I owe them too much, although some day I’d like you to explain to me the interest they had in a certain hostage at the embassy.’

‘I was never told,’ said Weingrass. ‘I knew there was an initial plan the unit had trained for and I assumed it was designed to reach someone inside, but they never discussed it in front of me. Those people know how to keep their mouths shut… What’s your next move?’

‘Tomorrow morning with the Rashad woman. I told you.’

‘After that.’

‘You haven’t been watching television.’

‘I’m at Gee-Gee’s. He only allows videotapes, remember? He’s got a replay on one of the eighty-two Series, and most everyone at the bar thinks it’s today. What’s on television?’

‘The President. He announced that I’m in protective seclusion.’

‘Sounds like jail to me.’

‘In a way it is, but the prison’s tolerable and the warden’s given me privileges.’

‘Do I get a number?’

‘I wouldn’t know it. There’s nothing printed on the phone, only a blank strip, but I’ll keep you informed. I’ll call you if I move. Nobody could trace this line and it doesn’t matter if they did.’

‘Okay, now let me ask you something. Did you mention me to anyone?’

‘Good God, no. You may be in the classified Oman file and I did say that a lot of other people deserved credit beside myself, but I never used your name. Why?’

‘I’m being followed.’

‘What?’

‘It’s a wrinkle I don’t like. Gee-Gee says the clown on my tail is federal and that there are others with him.’

‘Maybe Dennison picked you out from the file and assigned you protection.’

‘From what? Even in Paris I’m vault-tight—if I wasn’t, I’d have been dead three years ago. And what makes you think I’m in any file? Outside the unit no one knew my name and none of our names were used in that conference the morning we all left. Finally, Airhead, if I’m being protected it’d be a good idea to let me know about it. Because if I’m dangerous enough to warrant that kind of protection, I might just blow the head off someone I don’t know protecting me.’

‘As usual,’ said Kendrick, ‘you may have an ounce of logic in your normal pound of implausibility. I’ll check on it.’

‘Do that. I may not have too many years left but I wouldn’t want them cut short by a bullet in my head—from either side. Call me tomorrow, because now I’ve got to get back to the coven before the inhabitants report my departure to the head police warlock.’

‘Give my regards to Gee-Gee,’ added Evan. ‘And tell him that when I’m home he’s to stay the hell out of the importing business. Also, thank him, Manny.’ Kendrick hung up the phone, his hand still on it. He picked it up and dialled 0.

‘Operator,’ said a somewhat hesitant female voice after more unanswered rings than seemed normal.

‘I’m not sure why,’ began Evan, ‘but I have an idea that you’re not an ordinary run-of-the-mill operator for the Bell Telephone Company.’

‘Sir…?’

‘It doesn’t matter, miss. My name is Kendrick and I have to reach Mr. Herbert Dennison, the White House chief of staff, as soon as possible—it’s urgent. I’m asking you to do your best to find him and have him call me within the next five minutes. If that’s impossible, I’ll be forced to call my secretary’s husband, who’s a lieutenant on the Washington police, and tell him I’m being held prisoner at a location I’m fairly certain I can identify accurately.’

‘Sir, please’.’

‘I think I’m being reasonable and very clear,’ interrupted Evan. ‘Mr. Dennison is to contact me within the next five minutes, and the countdown’s begun. Thank you, operator, have a good day.’

Again Kendrick hung up the phone but now he removed his hand and walked over to a wall bar which held an ice bucket and assorted bottles of expensive whisky. He poured himself a drink, looked at his watch and proceeded towards a large casement window that looked out on the rear floodlit grounds. He was amused at the sight of a croquet lawn bordered by white wrought-iron furniture; he was less amused by the sight of a marine guard dressed in the casual, unmilitary uniform of the estate’s staff. He was pacing a garden path near the stone wall, his uncasual, very military repeating rifle angled in front. Manny was right: He was in jail. Moments later the telephone rang and the congressman from Colorado walked back to it. ‘Hello, Herbie, how are you?”

‘How am I, you son of a bitch? I’m in the goddamned shower, that’s how I am. Wet! What do you want?’

‘I want to know why Weingrass is being followed. I want to know why his name ever surfaced anywhere, and you’d better have a damn good explanation, like his personal well-being.’

‘Back up, ingrate,’ said the chief of staff curtly. ‘What the hell is a Weingrass? Something put out by Manischewitz?’

‘Emmanuel Weingrass is an architect of international renown. He’s also a close friend of mind and he’s staying at my house in Colorado, and for reasons that I don’t have to give you, his being there is extremely confidential. Where and to whom have you circulated his name?’

‘I can’t circulate what I’ve never heard of, you fruitcake.’

‘You’re not lying to me, are you, Herbie? Because if you are I can make the next few weeks very embarrassing for you.’

‘If I thought that lying would get you off my back, I’d go to the well, but I haven’t got any lies where a Weingrass is concerned. I don’t know who he is, so help me.’

‘You read the debriefing reports on Oman, didn’t you?’

‘It’s one file and buried. Of course I read it.’

‘Weingrass’s name never appeared?’

‘No, and I’d remember if it did. It’s a funny name.’

‘Not to Weingrass.’ Kendrick paused, but not long enough for Dennison to interrupt. ‘Could anyone in the CIA or NSA or any of those outfits put a guest of mine under surveillance without informing you?’

‘No way!’ shouted the White House suzerain. ‘Where you and the troubles you’ve laid on us are concerned, no one moves sideways for an inch without my knowing about it!’

‘One last question. In the Oman file, was there any mention of the person flying back with me from Bahrain?’

It was Dennison’s turn to pause. ‘You’re a little obvious, Congressman.’

‘You’re a little closer to those soft-boiled eggs over your face. If you think I’m bad news for you and your man now, don’t even speculate on the architect’s connection. Leave it alone.’

‘I’ll leave it alone,’ agreed the chief of staff. ‘With a name like Weingrass I can make another connection and it scares me. Like the Mossad.’

‘Good. Now just answer my question. What was in the file about the flight from Bahrain to Andrews?’

‘The cargo consisted of you and an old Arab in Western clothes, a longtime subagent for Cons Op who was being flown over for medical treatment. His name was Ali some-thing-or-other; State cleared him and he vanished. That’s straight, Kendrick. No one in this government is aware of a Mr. Weingrass.’

‘Thanks, Herb.’

‘Thanks for the “Herb”. Is there anything I can do?’

Evan stared at the casement window, then at the floodlit grounds and the marine guard outside and everything the scene represented. ‘I’m going to do you a favour and say no,’ he said softly. ‘At least for now. But you can clarify something for me. This phone has a tap on it, doesn’t it?’

‘Not the usual variety. There’s a little black box like those on aircraft. It has to be removed by authorized personnel and the tapes processed under the strictest security measures.’

‘Can you stop the operation for, say, thirty minutes or so, until I contact someone? You’d want it that way, believe me.’

‘I’ll accept that… Sure, there’s an override on the line; our people use it a lot when they’re in those houses. Give me five minutes and call Moscow, if you like.’

‘Five minutes.’

‘May I go back to my shower now?’

‘Try bleach this time.’ Kendrick replaced the phone and took out his wallet, slipping his index finger under the flap behind his Colorado driver’s licence. He removed the scrap of paper with Frank Swann’s two private telephone numbers written on it and again looked at his watch. He would wait ten minutes and hope that the deputy director of Consular Operations was at one place or the other. He was. At his apartment, of course. After curt greetings, Evan explained where he was—where he thought he was.