shoulder.
“You going to carry, or do you want me to arrange something down there?”
“I’m going in on a diplomatic courier passport with a sealed pouch,” McGarvey said. “If Katy calls, tell her what you can without worrying her too badly.”
“Do you have a time frame?”
Once he had decided to go down there and take a look, he had asked himself the same question. He shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“Take care,” Rencke said.
“In the meantime I want you to dig as deeply as you can into whatever MOIS database you can hack. I want to know if there’s even a hint that the woman might be a double. Her story has so many holes, it’s bound to be at least partly true. I want your best guess.”
“Anything specific you want me to look for?”
“She left her money behind,” McGarvey said. “After everything she went through it’s kind of odd, unless she doesn’t need it. Maybe she’s rich after all.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. The other guy with Liu and Updegraf. Whoever he was scared the hell out of her. See if you can come up with any connection between Liu and someone who knew Shahrzad or her family.”
“You’re thinking about an Iranian connection down there, too?”
“Anything’s possible.”
SIXTEEN
CASEY KEY
Katy wasn’t in the house when McGarvey got back from town, but when he went up to their bedroom he spotted her through the window. She was sitting reading a book in the gazebo, waiting for him. He watched her for a minute, marveling at his fantastic luck for having her in his life.
She had picked the wrong man to marry, though to hear her tell it she’d never had a moment of doubt. She was proud of him for what he had accomplished, even though in her heart of hearts she wanted to disagree with a world in which violence was sometimes a necessary evil with which to combat an even larger, mindless evil.
Her biggest complaint was his leaving her. She once told him that it was at times like those when she thought she might be losing her mind with worry. She’d been around long enough as the wife of a CIA officer to read about and attend more funerals than she ever wanted to. “One of these days it might be me wearing black with someone like Dick Adkins holding my elbow at graveside,” she said. They were having after-dinner drinks at a trendy Georgetown restaurant. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t look good in black.”
He remembered that particular conversation just at this moment because of his answer. He’d been on the trail of an al-Qaida agent who’d planed a terrorist strike on the U.S., and at that moment he was fairly certain of what and whom he was up against, and of how he wanted the operation to play out. “No black for you this time, Katy,” he said.
“Kathleen,” she replied, a hint of crossness in her voice. But then she forced herself to relax. “Hell, I’ve just got the vapors seeing you off again.”
He reached across the table for her hand. “I won’t tell you not to worry. But I’ll be back. Promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she said.
This time around, however, McGarvey wasn’t as sure of what he was getting himself into. They’d already lost one man down there, and there was no knowing at this stage just how entrenched Liu and the Guoanbu were. There was a great possibility that whoever went up against the Chinese next could be running into a buzz saw.
And there was something else. Something that McGarvey couldn’t quite get a handle on. Yet it was there, just over the horizon, watching, waiting, expecting someone like him to come.
Katy suddenly looked up, then turned and spotted him in the window. She waved, put the book down, and started to get to her feet, but he opened the French doors and went out onto the veranda.
“Stay there,” he called to her. “I’ll be right down.”
She shaded her eyes. “Okay.”
“Do you want anything?”
“Just a good explanation why I missed lunch,” she replied, a touch of
“You going to carry, or do you want me to arrange something down there?”
“I’m going in on a diplomatic courier passport with a sealed pouch,” McGarvey said. “If Katy calls, tell her what you can without worrying her too badly.”
“Do you have a time frame?”
Once he had decided to go down there and take a look, he had asked himself the same question. He shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“Take care,” Rencke said.
“In the meantime I want you to dig as deeply as you can into whatever MOIS database you can hack. I want to know if there’s even a hint that the woman might be a double. Her story has so many holes, it’s bound to be at least partly true. I want your best guess.”
“Anything specific you want me to look for?”
“She left her money behind,” McGarvey said. “After everything she went through it’s kind of odd, unless she doesn’t need it. Maybe she’s rich after all.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. The other guy with Liu and Updegraf. Whoever he was scared the hell out of her. See if you can come up with any connection between Liu and someone who knew Shahrzad or her family.”
“You’re thinking about an Iranian connection down there, too?”
“Anything’s possible.”
SIXTEEN
CASEY KEY
Katy wasn’t in the house when McGarvey got back from town, but when he went up to their bedroom he spotted her through the window. She was sitting reading a book in the gazebo, waiting for him. He watched her for a minute, marveling at his fantastic luck for having her in his life.
She had picked the wrong man to marry, though to hear her tell it she’d never had a moment of doubt. She was proud of him for what he had accomplished, even though in her heart of hearts she wanted to disagree with a world in which violence was sometimes a necessary evil with which to combat an even larger, mindless evil.
Her biggest complaint was his leaving her. She once told him that it was at times like those when she thought she might be losing her mind with worry. She’d been around long enough as the wife of a CIA officer to read about and attend more funerals than she ever wanted to. “One of these days it might be me wearing black with someone like Dick Adkins holding my elbow at graveside,” she said. They were having after-dinner drinks at a trendy Georgetown restaurant. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t look good in black.”
He remembered that particular conversation just at this moment because of his answer. He’d been on the trail of an al-Qaida agent who’d planed a terrorist strike on the U.S., and at that moment he was fairly certain of what and whom he was up against, and of how he wanted the operation to play out. “No black for you this time, Katy,” he said.
“Kathleen,” she replied, a hint of crossness in her voice. But then she forced herself to relax. “Hell, I’ve just got the vapors seeing you off again.”
He reached across the table for her hand. “I won’t tell you not to worry. But I’ll be back. Promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she said.
This time around, however, McGarvey wasn’t as sure of what he was getting himself into. They’d already lost one man down there, and there was no knowing at this stage just how entrenched Liu and the Guoanbu were. There was a great possibility that whoever went up against the Chinese next could be running into a buzz saw.
And there was something else. Something that McGarvey couldn’t quite get a handle on. Yet it was there, just over the horizon, watching, waiting, expecting someone like him to come.
Katy suddenly looked up, then turned and spotted him in the window. She waved, put the book down, and started to get to her feet, but he opened the French doors and went out onto the veranda.
“Stay there,” he called to her. “I’ll be right down.”
She shaded her eyes. “Okay.”
“Do you want anything?”
“Just a good explanation why I missed lunch,” she replied, a touch of
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