The Kill Zone by David Hagberg Read Free Book Online Page B

“I can deal with that,” she said, simply.
    â€œI haven’t been confirmed yet.”
    â€œYou will be,” she said, her mood a lot lighter now. She laughed. “They’d be fools to let you go. You’re what the Agency needs right now, and everybody knows it.”
    â€œIs that the scuttlebutt in town?” McGarvey asked. Katy had always been well connected in Washington. She knew people, heard things, noticed things.
    â€œWhat an ugly word,” she said, amused. “But that’s the consensus.” She turned and got the plates and bowls from the cabinet. “I’m not going to watch on television. Hammond is a pompous ass, and he’ll try to score points off you.” She got the silverware and napkins. “But if you push back, he’ll quit. He’s all bluster.”
    â€œThat’s about what Carleton said,” McGarvey replied. “How long before dinner?”
    â€œTwenty minutes.”
    â€œRight, I have to make a phone call.” McGarvey took his drink, got his
briefcase from the hall table and went into his study. The room was a mess. His desk and chair had been moved to the middle and covered with plastic, but the couch and everything else had been moved out somewhere. Sections of two walls had been stripped to the bare studs beneath the drywall, wires dangled loosely from a hole in the center of the ceiling, plaster dust and sawdust covered every surface, and the blinds had been removed from the big window. The carpenters had left their toolboxes and a portable radio in a corner.
    He uncovered his desk, found the telephone and called the night duty officer in the Directorate of Operations on the encrypted line. He had thought about this all the way home after seeing the logo on Otto’s computer.
    â€œFour-seven-eight-seven, Newby.”
    â€œThis is McGarvey. How’re things shaping up?” It was after midnight, Greenwich Mean Time and the twenty-four-hour summaries were starting to arrive at Langley from the foreign stations and posts.
    â€œGood evening, Mr. McGarvey,” Jay Newby said. He was one of the old reliable hands who’d cut his teeth in Eastern Europe during the Cold War years. At one time he had been a hell-raiser. But he was on his third marriage now and he had become a stay-at-home, though he didn’t mind night duty. “Nothing significant.”
    â€œHow about Moscow station?”
    â€œNothing above a grade three,” Newby said. “I’m scanning. Are you looking for anything in particular, Mr. Director?”
    â€œJust fishing.”
    â€œThe SVR is asking Interpol for some help,” Newby said. The SVR was the renamed and slightly reorganized foreign section of the old KGB. “Evidently they lost track of one of their people, and they want him back. Probably cleaned out someone’s bank account and skipped the country.”
    â€œDo we have a name?”
    â€œNikolayev. Dr. Anatoli Nikolaevich. Would you like me to send his file over to you tonight?”
    â€œNot right now. But you can include it in the morning report. Anything else?”
    â€œNot from Moscow. The navy is asking for help in Havana, that just came over. And we’ve got the heads up on a possible operation in Mexico City. We’re passing both items to Mr. Whittaker right now.” Dave Whittaker was the DDO, and nothing escaped his attention.
    â€œQuiet night.”
    â€œYes, sir.”

    McGarvey was about to hang up, but another thought struck him. “Have you already pulled Nikolayev’s file?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œMr. Rencke asked for it yesterday.”
    â€œThanks, Jay. Have a good one.” McGarvey hung up and stood there, lost in thought for a few moments. Nikolayev was a name he hadn’t heard in a lot of years. If he had to guess he would have thought that the old man was dead, along with just about the entire Baranov crowd. He had