Part 68 (1/2)
”Yes, of course,” answered Tyrell, thinking quickly, desperately trying to find logic within the illogical. ”Incidentally, thanks for recruiting him-”
”Geoffrey Cooke did that, rest his soul, not I.”
”Yes, I know, but as I say, I just got your message here at the house, there was nothing from you at my office.”
”d.a.m.n it, Captain, I certainly wasnt going to leave my name or who I was. Your new director at the Agency and I agreed to keep this whole thing so b.l.o.o.d.y secret, it was to be restricted to the three of us; you were included because youre Hawthornes control. What the h.e.l.l happened? Didnt your DCI contact you? His secretary, a d.a.m.ned arrogant b.i.t.c.h if I may say so, told me her chap got word from the unit and was on top of things, but how could he be without reaching you?”
”There was a Syrian-Israeli problem,” said Tyrell lamely. ”Its all over the radio and television now.”
”Utter nonsense!” interrupted the chairman of MI-6, Special Branch. ”Theyre simply posturing, both of them. As far as Im concerned, they can blow each other to smithereens. What were facing makes their G.o.dd.a.m.ned theatrics insignificant.”
”Wait a minute, Howell,” said Tyrell quietly, his face growing pale with the panic he had known was on his own personal horizon. ”You mentioned a unit ... are you referring to the coordinated telephone surveillance operation between you fellows and the Agency?”
”This is preposterous! Do you mean you dont know?”
”Know what, John?” Hawthornes breath was suspended.
”Its tonight! Bajaratt claims sh.e.l.l strike tonight! Your time!”
”Oh, my G.o.d ...” said Tyrell, barely audible, exhaling slowly, his face white. ”And you say the Agency unit relayed this to the director?”
”Of course.”
”Youre sure?”
”My dear man, I spoke with that b.i.t.c.h secretary myself. She said your DCI was in meetings all over Was.h.i.+ngton, and specifically, when I called the last time, with the Presidents Cabinet at the White House.”
”The Cabinet?... What the h.e.l.l for?”
”Its your country, old chap, not mine. Of course, if it were our Prime Minister, hed be under the protection of Scotland Yard-which he is-not meeting with his Cabinet at 10 Downing Street; too many of those fellows might just care to blow him away.”
”Its a possibility here too.”
”I beg your pardon?”
”Forget it.... Youre telling me that the director of the Central Intelligence Agency was aware of this information, and by extension, since he was in meetings, he had spread the word to all those in Was.h.i.+ngton who should know?”
”Look, old boy, hes new and he obviously panicked, dont be too harsh on him. Perhaps I should have been more circ.u.mspect. I took the word of our people who said he was an experienced hand, a splendid fellow.”
”Theyre probably right, but theres a small omission.”
”Whats that?”
”I dont think he ever got the information.”
”What?”
”You dont have to alter this number, Sir John. Ill burn it and get back to you on normal channels.”
”For the love of G.o.d, will you please tell me whats going on over there!”
”I dont have time. Ill talk to you later.” Tyrell instantly hung up the blue telephone, picked up the red one, and pressed the O b.u.t.ton; it was answered quickly. ”This is Commander Hawthorne-”
”Yes, Commander, we spoke before,” said the operator. ”I trust you reached the senior officer of the watch at naval intelligence?”
”Yes, I did, thank you. Now I need Secretary of State Palisser, preferably on this line, if you can manage a secure patch.”
”We can, and well find him, sir.”
”Ill stay on. Its an emergency.” As he waited, Tyrell tried to formulate the words he could use to deliver the incredible news to the secretary of state, a revelation Palisser might well find impossible to believe. The coordinated telephone surveillance between London and Was.h.i.+ngton had not been a failure, it had worked! Bajaratt had been intercepted, her words recorded: She would strike sometime tonight! The insanity was that no one knew about it!... That was incorrect, mused Hawthorne, someone knew, and that someone had short-circuited the information. Where the h.e.l.l was Palisser?
”Commander ...?”
”Im right here. Wheres the secretary?”
”Were having a little difficulty tracing him, sir. We have your red line code, so when we locate him we can patch him directly through to you if you wish.”
”I dont wish, Ill stay on.”
”Very well, sir.”
Again the line was silent, the further delay aggravating the hollow pain that refused to leave his chest. It was past six oclock, thought Hawthorne, turning his wrist to look at his watch-well past, it was nearing six-thirty. Daylight savings or no, the night had begun. G.o.dd.a.m.n it, Palisser, where are you?
”Commander-”
”Yes?”
”Im not sure how to put this, sir, but we simply cant locate the secretary of state.”
”Youve got to be joking!” shouted Tyrell, unconsciously echoing Sir John Howell.
”We reached Mrs. Palisser in St. Michaels, Maryland, and she said the secretary called her, saying that he was stopping at the Israeli emba.s.sy and would join her within an hour or so.”
”And?”
”We spoke to the amba.s.sadors first attache-the amba.s.sador is temporarily in Jerusalem-and he said Secretary Palisser was there for roughly twenty-five minutes. They discussed, as he phrased it, 'State Department business, and then Secretary Palisser left.”
”What business?”
”We could hardly ask that question, sir.”
”Since when does the American secretary of state lapdog over to the Israeli emba.s.sy rather than the other way around?”
”I cant answer that, sir.”
”Maybe I can.... Connect me to the Israeli attache, and make sure you tell him this is an emergency call. If hes not on the premises, find him.”