Betrayals by Brian Freemantle Page A

sort of contingency is being explored.”
    â€œIncluding some sort of commando assault?”
    â€œI don’t think I can be as specific as that.”
    â€œYou don’t trust me, do you?”
    â€œI don’t think trust comes into it, Ms. Stone. I don’t know the specific proposals myself.”
    â€œAnd if you did you wouldn’t tell me?”
    â€œProbably not,” admitted Willsher, at once. “That wouldn’t be particularly good security, would it?”
    â€œDid you know John?” Janet asked abruptly. “Personally, I mean?”
    Willsher hesitated and then said: “We were on station together once, some time ago. But not together here, in Washington.”
    â€œWere you a friend?”
    Willsher frowned once more, head to one side. “We saw each other occasionally,” he said. “It wasn’t really friendship.”
    â€œWill he be able to stand it?” asked Janet, urgently. “The imprisonment … and … and …” She stumbled to a halt and then blurted out. “Whatever else there might be …?”
    For the first time Willsher’s reserved formality wavered. He said: “John’s a very strong man. Very tough.”
    Janet laughed, without humor. “That’s the strangest part, since all this happened. I realize I never thought of him as someone with strength … with resilience. Isn’t that odd?”
    â€œI’m not going to say anything ridiculous, like don’t worry, but he’s able to sustain hardship,” Willsher said.
    â€œI hope you’re right,” said Janet. “Dear God, I hope you’re right.”
    â€œYou must leave things with us now,” Willsher said. “No more media hype. Or protests from senators.”
    â€œFor how long?”
    â€œFor as long as it takes, Ms. Stone.”
    â€œGagged, you mean?”
    â€œI mean there’s only one consideration, for both of us. Which is getting John out. And we think that means low profile.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” Janet demanded.
    â€œI don’t understand that question, ma’am.”
    â€œI mean that it wouldn’t be considered wise politics in a region in which America has already made a whole bunch of mistakes to consider John Sheridan as being disposable …” Janet paused. Remembering the phrase, she said: “Someone who’s plausibly deniable.”
    â€œNo, Ms. Stone. I can assure you that isn’t the way we’re thinking.”
    â€œI’d like to believe you, Mr. Willsher.”
    â€œAll I can do is repeat that it isn’t so.”
    â€œAre you going to remain in contact?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œHow?”
    Willsher paused and said: “You shouldn’t have disclosed the telephone number that John gave you: we’ve had to close it down.”
    â€œAnd I shouldn’t have been given the bum’s rush when I asked for help,” came back Janet. “I thought we’d cleared the decks on that.”
    â€œI hope we have,” agreed the CIA officer.
    â€œSo how?”
    â€œI’ve got your number.”
    â€œNo!” refused Janet, shaking her head. “I want something better than that!”
    Willsher sighed, looking down at his pristine blotter. He said: “There are going to be more media approaches.”
    Every conversation reverted to their sensitivity about publicity, Janet recognized. She said: “I understand what you’re saying: I really do. To refuse to talk would be as wrong as saying too much. How about if I said there had been a meeting with an official of the Agency who assured me that everything possible was being done?”
    Willsher smiled, suddenly, an unexpected expression. He said: “I think that sounds fine.”
    â€œIn return for which I get a number where I can reach you whenever I want,” insisted Janet.
    The smile died.