Labyrinth by Jon Land Page B

disobeyed it.”
    â€œYes, Grendel,” the Commander responded. “I’ve read the boy’s report on that. You ordered him to let Vaslov go, correct?”
    â€œCorrect.”
    â€œThe most wanted number from the KGB and you ordered him let go. Keyes claims he had the Russian dead on target.”
    â€œThe shot wasn’t clear. People were everywhere. If I had let that kid start blasting, innocent bystanders would have been dropping everywhere.”
    â€œAlong with Vaslov perhaps?”
    â€œPossibly, but the risk was not acceptable,” Dogan explained, trying to justify his actions, though the truth was much simpler: Vaslov had beaten him and deserved to walk. “Shootouts are a thing of the past, Commander, you’ve told me that yourself on more than one occasion.”
    The Commander glanced up briefly. “That’s not the point and please don’t talk to me about procedure. You didn’t just stop Keyes from firing into a crowd, you shattered his wrist and made holding a telephone painful for him for the rest of his life. He’s not happy and neither is the department.”
    â€œYou’re not expecting me to deny this, I hope.”
    â€œThere would be no sense in that. You violated a major rule of the field this morning: You let anger get the better of you.”
    â€œNot anger, Commander, frustration. You gave me a bunch of wet-eared kids who couldn’t follow orders on a simple pickup operation.”
    â€œThe operation was yours, Grendel. So is the responsibility for bungling it.”
    â€œAnd I’m not trying to pass that off. Except the operation wasn’t bungled. It was clean and well conceived.”
    â€œThe results seem to indicate otherwise… .”
    â€œBecause Vaslov and the Russians beat us. They played a better game. They’re superior to us because their agents know nothing about ego gratifications. They have a job to do and it gets done. Simple.”
    â€œSo they planted a fake defector and you took the bait.”
    â€œYes, Vaslov planted a fake defector but he also planted a half-dozen other diversions to throw us off the track. A stalled car, a pair of baby carriages, a blind man—all his work.”
    The Commander flipped the page of his newspaper. “Tell me about the setup.”
    â€œThe defector reached us through his contact with the place and the time. He was impatient. He’d been holed up in Paris for almost two weeks waiting for his chance.”
    â€œThen I must assume Vaslov knew something of the plan himself.”
    â€œProbably only shadows but they proved enough. The defector’s contact must’ve had a big mouth. So Vaslov planted a fake defector to draw us off. When we lunged at the bait, his men were the only ones around to pick up the real defector. We got beat, just like I said before.”
    A cool night breeze ruffled the Commander’s paper. His eyes grasped Dogan’s for the first time. “I don’t see it as that simple. Perhaps, Grendel, you are becoming too predictable.”
    â€œGiven the limitations of what I have to work with, I do the best I can. The men who beat us today were strictly professional.” A pause. “The way we used to be.”
    â€œI see,” the Commander noted, flipping to the back section.
    Dogan grasped him Firmly at the elbow. The older man flinched but didn’t bother trying to pull away. Annoyance swam in his eyes.
    â€œNo, I don’t think you do, sir,” Dogan charged. “Let me try to explain. Men like Keyes can’t read between the lines, can’t estimate their opponent’s next move based on simple instinct. Everything has to be cut and dried for them. In the field, though, it’s anything but that, which means losing to the Russians is something we better get used to.”
    â€œAn interesting depiction of your failure this morning.”
    â€œCall it whatever you