The Kill Zone by David Hagberg Read Free Book Online

niche where he usually worked was a filthy mess of computer printouts, paper cups, milk cartons and McDonald’s wrappers strewn on the floor and on a long worktable; wastepaper baskets overflowing, shredder baskets filled, classified satellite downloads lying everywhere. The infrared and visible light images appeared to be mostly of Eastern Europe and Russia. McGarvey recognized the Baltic coastlines of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia up to Finland, and then the cities of Helsinki, Leningrad and as far east as Moscow. One of the monitors displayed the sword-and-shield logo of the old KGB against a pastel pink background. McGarvey touched enter, and the screen immediately went blank.
    â€œDoesn’t look like he wants anyone snooping around,” Yemm said.
    â€œApparently not,” McGarvey replied absently. He stared at the blank screen. He was concerned. There was nothing currently on the front burner about the KGB. But Otto was in the middle of something. What?
    Time to talk to the Company shrink? He looked at the piles of classified photographs littering the area. He didn’t want to lose Otto. Or even worse, he didn’t want Otto to run amok; the entire CIA could suffer. The damage could ultimately be worse than what Aldrich Ames had done to them.
    He telephoned the computer center night duty supervisor and asked him to clean up the monitor area that Rencke had been using and secure any classified documents he found.
    â€œHe won’t be happy, Mr. McGarvey.”
    â€œI’ll talk to him.”
    On the way home he stared at the heavy traffic on the Parkway, suddenly depressed. It was dark already, and it was supposed to snow again. He shivered even though it was warm in the car.
    â€œDo you ever think about getting out of the business, Dick?” he asked.
    â€œEvery day, boss,” Yemm replied. “Every day.”
    The answer seemed particularly bitter to McGarvey. But then everyone was in a screwed-up mood lately. It had to be the weather. And for him it
had to be that he had no real idea why he had accepted the President’s appointment.
    Time to step down. He’d done his bit. He’d fought the wars, though very often he had to wonder if what he had accomplished had really mattered at all, or if his career had been nothing but a wasted effort. And here he was now at the helm. It was a job he’d never wanted. Yet almost every DCI whom he’d served under had been in his estimation primarily a politician. Not a career intelligence officer, like in Britain.
    The CIA was falling apart. Had been for years. The Agency had become nothing more than a glorified extension of the White House; DCIs told the administration nothing more than it wanted to hear, when it wanted to hear it.
    Time for the truth. Trouble was that McGarvey didn’t know if he was up to the job.

    FOUR
    SCOUT’S HONOR … THE WORDS WERE COMING BACK TO HAUNT HER.
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    H e let himself in with his key, and his spirits lifted. It was good to be home, another Monday behind him. He entered the alarm code on the touchpad, put his briefcase on the hall table, hung his coat in the closet and went back to the kitchen. Kathleen was putting a pan in the oven, and something on the stove smelled wonderful.
    â€œHi, Katy, how was your day?”
    She gave a sudden start and turned around. She was dressed in a sweatshirt and blue jeans, and wore a pair of his white socks. On her the clothes looked like something out of a fashion magazine.
    â€œYou startled me.” She looked like she had been pulled back from a millon miles away against her will, and she resented it. But then she shook her head ruefully. “Sorry, darling. I guess I was daydreaming.”
    â€œI know the feeling.” He went around the counter and gave her a kiss. “Do I get to see what’s cooking?”

    â€œDon’t push your luck, I don’t do this for just anybody.” She gave him a stern