hall with an ultimatum. She’d had no idea where he’d been or what he had been doing, but she’d had enough of him running around the world at a moment’s notice, leaving her to sit at home half out of her mind with worry and fear. It was her or the CIA. He would have to make the choice.
He’d been mentally fried at that moment. Not only had he killed the general, he’d been forced to kill the man’s wife, putting a bullet in her head when she and her husband were in the act of making love, lest she sound the alarm and bring the guards down on him. It didn’t matter when he stood just inside the door facing Katy that the general’s wife had been just as responsible for the killing and torture as her husband, because he didn’t know it then. All he knew was that he had gunned down two people, one of them a woman, in cold blood, he’d been fired from his job, and the one person on earth whom he desperately needed to make it right was treating him as if he were a criminal who needed to change his ways or get out.
His marriage was new enough that he hadn’t learned how to react when his wife threw a tantrum. He’d turned around without a word and walked out the door. By the next morning he was on an Air France flight to Paris, and then to Switzerland.
He and Katy had been separated for a lot of years as their only daughter was growing up. And looking back, those wasted years made no sense to him. They had always loved each other; they’d just not been able to keep in step. They hadn’t learned how.
After a few minutes he went down to the dock and stood beside her, watching a snowy egret fishing for its dinner on the opposite bank.
She looked up and smiled wistfully. “I was thinking about the time when you came home after one of your … trips, and I told you it was me or the CIA.”
“I was thinking about it too,” McGarvey said. “We were pretty stupid.”
“I’m not that dumb anymore, Kirk,” she said, turning to him.
“Neither am I,” McGarvey said, and he took her in his arms.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Yes, it was.”
Katy looked deeply into his eyes, and after a moment she nodded. “I wonder what would happen if I threw down the gauntlet now?”
“I’d probably turn down the trip,” McGarvey told her.
“Thank you for that much,” she said. “Please be careful and come back to me.”
SEVENTEEN
MEXICO CITY
McGarvey had booked a pair of first-class seats on a United Airbus A320, leaving Dulles at 3:00 p.m., just forty minutes after his flight from Sarasota had touched down. His diplomatic passport identifying him as Thomas Higby had not been given a second glance, and he’d been allowed to step around the security arch with his leather bag in hand. At the counter he’d checked one hanging bag with his clothes, which was tagged with a diplomatic status, and since he’d booked two seats he wasn’t bothered with a neighbor.
As soon as they were in the air and had reached cruising altitude the captain turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign and announced that portable electronic devices including cell phones would be okay to use. McGarvey ordered a Martell cognac neat from the stewardess, and after she’d brought it he took out Rencke’s DVD and powered it up.
The personnel files on Gil Perry and the people working for him out of the embassy didn’t contain much of any interest besides what Rencke had told him, and from what he’d gathered from Perry himself and from the woman. The entire station seemed to be composed of field officers who had their own agendas. Everyone was looking for the “big score,” as Updegraf had called it. Perry was looking to make his mark so he could take the next step toward becoming DDCI. Chauncy wanted his own station, and he was willing to push Perry at every opportunity, hoping that his boss would make a career-busting mistake. Updegraf had been up to something that no one else knew about. And the only reason Gloria Ibenez had
He’d been mentally fried at that moment. Not only had he killed the general, he’d been forced to kill the man’s wife, putting a bullet in her head when she and her husband were in the act of making love, lest she sound the alarm and bring the guards down on him. It didn’t matter when he stood just inside the door facing Katy that the general’s wife had been just as responsible for the killing and torture as her husband, because he didn’t know it then. All he knew was that he had gunned down two people, one of them a woman, in cold blood, he’d been fired from his job, and the one person on earth whom he desperately needed to make it right was treating him as if he were a criminal who needed to change his ways or get out.
His marriage was new enough that he hadn’t learned how to react when his wife threw a tantrum. He’d turned around without a word and walked out the door. By the next morning he was on an Air France flight to Paris, and then to Switzerland.
He and Katy had been separated for a lot of years as their only daughter was growing up. And looking back, those wasted years made no sense to him. They had always loved each other; they’d just not been able to keep in step. They hadn’t learned how.
After a few minutes he went down to the dock and stood beside her, watching a snowy egret fishing for its dinner on the opposite bank.
She looked up and smiled wistfully. “I was thinking about the time when you came home after one of your … trips, and I told you it was me or the CIA.”
“I was thinking about it too,” McGarvey said. “We were pretty stupid.”
“I’m not that dumb anymore, Kirk,” she said, turning to him.
“Neither am I,” McGarvey said, and he took her in his arms.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Yes, it was.”
Katy looked deeply into his eyes, and after a moment she nodded. “I wonder what would happen if I threw down the gauntlet now?”
“I’d probably turn down the trip,” McGarvey told her.
“Thank you for that much,” she said. “Please be careful and come back to me.”
SEVENTEEN
MEXICO CITY
McGarvey had booked a pair of first-class seats on a United Airbus A320, leaving Dulles at 3:00 p.m., just forty minutes after his flight from Sarasota had touched down. His diplomatic passport identifying him as Thomas Higby had not been given a second glance, and he’d been allowed to step around the security arch with his leather bag in hand. At the counter he’d checked one hanging bag with his clothes, which was tagged with a diplomatic status, and since he’d booked two seats he wasn’t bothered with a neighbor.
As soon as they were in the air and had reached cruising altitude the captain turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign and announced that portable electronic devices including cell phones would be okay to use. McGarvey ordered a Martell cognac neat from the stewardess, and after she’d brought it he took out Rencke’s DVD and powered it up.
The personnel files on Gil Perry and the people working for him out of the embassy didn’t contain much of any interest besides what Rencke had told him, and from what he’d gathered from Perry himself and from the woman. The entire station seemed to be composed of field officers who had their own agendas. Everyone was looking for the “big score,” as Updegraf had called it. Perry was looking to make his mark so he could take the next step toward becoming DDCI. Chauncy wanted his own station, and he was willing to push Perry at every opportunity, hoping that his boss would make a career-busting mistake. Updegraf had been up to something that no one else knew about. And the only reason Gloria Ibenez had
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