The Eleventh Commandment (1998) (10 page)

‘A
RE YOU CERTAIN
Jackson can be trusted?’

‘No, Mr President, I’m not. But I am certain of one thing: Jackson loathes - I repeat, loathes - Helen Dexter as much as you do.’

‘Well, that’s as good as a personal recommendation,’ said the President. ‘What else made you pick him? Because if loathing Dexter was the primary qualification for the job, there must have been a fairly large number of candidates.’

‘He also has the other attributes I was looking for. There’s his record, as an officer in Vietnam and as head of counter-intelligence, not to mention his reputation as Deputy Director of the CIA.’

‘Then why did he suddenly resign when he still had such a promising career ahead of him?’

‘I suspect that Dexter felt it was a bit too promising, and he was beginning to look like a serious contender for her post.’

‘If he can prove that she gave the order to assassinate Ricardo Guzman, he still might be. It looks as if you’ve chosen the best man for the job, Andy.’

‘Jackson told me there was one better.’

‘Then let’s recruit him as well,’ said the President.

‘I had the same idea. But it turns out that he’s already working for Dexter.’

‘Well, at least he won’t know Jackson’s working for us. What else did he have to say?’

Lloyd opened the file and began to take the President through the conversation he had had with the former Deputy Director of the CIA.

When he’d finished, Lawrence’s only comment was, ‘Are you telling me I’m expected to just sit around twiddling my thumbs while we wait for Jackson to come up with something?’

‘Those were his conditions, Mr President, if we wanted him to take on the assignment. But I have a feeling that Mr Jackson isn’t the sort of person who sits around twiddling
his
thumbs.’

‘He’d better not be, because every day Dexter’s at Langley is a day too many for me. Let’s hope Jackson can supply us with enough rope to hang her publicly. And while we’re at it, let’s hold the execution in the Rose Garden.’

The Chief of Staff laughed. ‘That might have the double advantage of getting a few more Republicans to vote with us on the Safe Streets and Crime Reduction Bill’

The President smiled. ‘Who’s next?’ he asked.

Lloyd glanced at his watch. ‘Senator Bedell has been waiting in the lobby for some time.’

‘What does he want now?’

‘He was hoping to talk you through his latest set of proposed amendments to the Arms Reduction Bill’

The President frowned. ‘Did you notice how many points Zerimski has picked up in the latest opinion poll?’

Maggie began dialling the 650 number moments after she had turned the key in the lock of their little house in Georgetown. Connor started to unpack, listening to one end of the conversation between his wife and his daughter.

‘Just phoned to let you know that we’ve arrived back safely,’ Maggie tried as an opener.

Connor smiled at the unconvincing ploy. Tara was far too acute to fall for it, but he knew that she would play along.

‘Thanks for calling, Mom. It’s good to hear you.’

‘Everything all right at your end?’ asked Maggie.

‘Yes, fine,’ Tara said, before spending the next few minutes trying obliquely to assure her mother that she wasn’t about to do something impetuous. When she was convinced that Maggie was convinced, she asked, ‘Is Dad around?’

‘He’s right here.’ She handed the phone across the bed to Connor.

‘Can you do me a favour, Dad?’

‘You bet.’

‘Please explain to Mom that I’m not about to do anything silly. Stuart’s already rung twice since I got back, and as he’s planning to’ - she hesitated - ‘to come over to the States for Christmas, I’m pretty sure I can hang on until then. By the way, Dad, I thought I’d better warn you that I already know what I’d like for Christmas.’

‘And what’s that, my darling?’

‘That you’ll pay for my overseas calls for the next eight months. I have a feeling that might end up being more expensive than buying that used car you promised me if I get my PhD.’

Connor laughed.

‘So you’d better get that promotion you mentioned when we were in Australia. Bye, Dad.’

‘Bye, darling.’

Connor hung up, and gave Maggie a reassuring smile. He was about to tell her for the tenth time to stop worrying, when the phone rang again. He picked up the receiver, assuming it would be Tara again. It wasn’t.

‘Sorry to call the moment you arrive back,’ said Joan, ‘but I’ve just heard from the boss, and it sounds like an emergency. How quickly can you come in?’

Connor checked his watch. ‘I’ll be with you in twenty minutes,’ he said, and put the phone down.

‘Who was that?’ asked Maggie, as she continued unpacking.

‘Joan. She just needs me to sign a couple of outstanding contracts. Shouldn’t take too long.’

‘Damn,’ said Maggie. ‘I forgot to get her a present on the plane.’

‘I’ll find her something on the way to the office.’

Connor quickly left the room, and ran down the stairs and out of the house before Maggie could ask any more questions. He climbed into the old family Toyota, but it was some time before he could get the engine to splutter into life. He eventually eased the ‘old tank’, as Tara described it, out onto Twenty-Ninth Street. Fifteen minutes later he turned left on M Street, before taking another left and disappearing down a ramp into an unmarked underground carpark.

As Connor entered the building, the security guard touched the rim of his peaked hat and said, ‘Welcome back, Mr Fitzgerald. I wasn’t expecting to see you until Monday.’

‘That makes two of us,’ said Connor, returning the mock-salute and heading towards the bank of elevators. He took one to the seventh floor. When he stepped out into the corridor, he was greeted by a smile of recognition from the receptionist who sat at a desk below the boldly printed caption ‘Maryland Insurance Company’. The directory on the ground floor stated that the distinguished firm occupied the seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth floors.

‘How nice to see you, Mr Fitzgerald,’ said the receptionist. ‘You have a visitor.’

Connor smiled and nodded before continuing down the corridor. As he turned the corner, he spotted Joan standing by the door of his office. From the expression on her face, he suspected she had been waiting there for some time. Then he remembered Maggie’s words just before he left home - not that Joan looked as if a present was uppermost in her thoughts.

‘The boss arrived a few minutes ago,’ Joan said, holding the door open for him.

Connor strode into his office. Sitting on the other side of his desk was someone he’d never known to take a holiday.

‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Director,’ he said. ‘I only …’

‘We have a problem,’ was all Helen Dexter said, pushing a file across the desk.

‘Just give me one decent lead, and I’ll do all the groundwork,’ said Jackson.

‘I only wish I could, Chris,’ replied Bogota’s Chief of Police. ‘But it has already been made clear to me by one or two of your former colleagues that you are now
persona non grata
.’

‘I’ve never thought of you as someone who gave a damn about such niceties,’ said Jackson as he poured the Police Chief another whisky.

‘Chris, you have to understand that when you were a representative of your government, it was all above board.’

‘Including your kickbacks, if I remember correctly.’

‘But of course,’ said the policeman nonchalantly. ‘You’ll be the first to appreciate that expenses still have to be met.’ He took a gulp from his crystal glass. ‘And as you know only too well, Chris, inflation in Colombia remains extremely high. My salary doesn’t cover even my day-to-day expenses.’

‘From that little homily,’ said Jackson, ‘am I to understand that the rate remains the same, even if one is
persona non grata
?’

The Chief of Police downed his last drop of whisky, wiped his moustache and said, ‘Chris, Presidents come and go in both our countries - but not old friends.’

Jackson gave him a thin smile before removing an envelope from an inside pocket and sliding it under the table. The Chief of Police glanced inside it, unbuttoned a tunic pocket and slipped the envelope out of sight.

‘I see that your new masters have not, alas, allowed you the same degree of latitude when it comes to - expenses.’

‘One decent lead, that’s all I ask,’ repeated Jackson.

The Chief of Police held up his empty glass and waited until the barman had filled it to the brim. He took another long gulp. ‘I have always believed, Chris, that if you’re looking for a bargain, there’s no better place to start than a pawn shop.’ He smiled, drained his glass and rose from the table. ‘And remembering the dilemma you are currently facing, my old friend, I would begin in the San Victorina district, and I wouldn’t bother to do much more than window-shop.’

Once Connor had finished reading the details of the confidential memorandum, he passed the file back to the Director.

Her first question took him by surprise. ‘How long is it before you’re due to retire from the service?’

‘I come off the active list on the first of January next year, but naturally I hope to remain with the Company.’

‘It may not be quite that easy to accommodate your particular talents at the present time,’ Dexter said matter-of-factly. ‘However, I do have a vacancy I would feel able to recommend you for.’ She paused. ‘As director of our Cleveland office.’

‘Cleveland?’

‘Yes.’

‘After twenty-eight years’ service with the Company,’ said Connor, ‘I was rather hoping you might be able to find me something in Washington. I’m sure you know that my wife is the Dean of Admissions at Georgetown. It would be almost impossible for her to find an equivalent post in … Ohio.’

A long silence followed.

‘I’d like to help,’ Dexter said in the same flat tone, ‘but there’s nothing suitable for you at Langley at the present time. If you did feel able to take up the appointment in Cleveland, it might be possible to bring you back in a couple of years.’

Connor stared across the table at the woman he had served for the past twenty-six years, painfully aware that she was now using the same lethal blade on him as she had on so many of his colleagues in the past. But why, when he had always carried out her orders to the letter? He glanced at the file. Had the President demanded that someone should be sacrificed after he had been questioned so closely about the CIA’s activities in Colombia? Was Cleveland to be his reward for all his years of service?