Black Heart, page 68
He came back on. 'Okay. Your man's O'Day.'
'What department's he with?'
'None of your business, Mother. But he's not with us.'
'Got it. Put him on. And Stein -'
'Yeah?'
Thanks.'
'Just don't you forget that drink.' He clicked off and there was dead space for a few seconds. Tracy's watch told him he had three minutes to get the job done. If the Director came in before that he would have to hang up. This call was strictly hush.
'O'Day here.' The voice sounded light. Bit of a Virginia accent.
This is Mother.'
'What can I do for you?'
'I need some information dating back to 1969 on a man seconded out of the Special Forces Daniel Boone Ops in Ban Me Thuot.'
'Name?'
'Macomber comma Delmar, middle initial D.'
'Let's see,' the voice said in his ear, 'what the records show. It's all in the computer. What exactly are you looking for?'
I wish I knew, Tracy thought desperately. He had so little time. 'Have you got his return to the States?'
'Last time or between tours of duty?'
'Last time.'
'Coming right up.' There was a small silence during which Tracy tried not to look at his watch. He knew he was not going
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to make it. 'He returned on a Lockheed L-57 military transport carrying 107 passengers and a crew of five.'
Tracy thought a moment. Was the culmination of Sultan the only reason Macomber had opted to return home just then? He took a stab in the dark. 'What was the makeup of the passenger
manifest?'
'Military personnel,' O'Day said immediately. Then, 'N0 wait a minute. Records show 106 military persons of various
rank and one local.'
'One what? Tracy sat up straight, his heart beginning to
pound painfully in his chest.' 'You know. A slope.' 'What nationality?'
'How the hell do I know?' O'Day's voice was annoyed. 'Name's Khieu Sokha. That's all I got.'
Oh, Christ, Tracy thought. I think this might be it. But what he had in his mind was so incredible he dared not run it too far ... yet. He knew he was taking a great leap of faith but there was no other choice. It was no good asking O'Day what the Cambodian national - for there was no doubt in Tracy's mind that Khieu Sokha was Khmer was doing on a military transport bound for the United States, the same plane that Macomber had been on. He remembered the manner of Senator Burke's death in Kenilworth and found himself anxious to speak to Thwaite to see what progress the detective had made.
'Now we go back to the States,' he told O'Day quickly. 'Same time frame: 1969-^70. I need to know if the same subject applied for sponsorship of a foreign national during that
time.'
'Okay. Hold on.'
That was just what Tracy could not afford to do. Sixty seconds and he was in a definite red sector. He swivelled his chair around, faced the closed door. He concentrated on the knob. The moment it turned, he would have to cradle the receiver. Come on, O'Day, he mouthed silently. 'Mother?' He was back on the line.
'Yes.' Thirty seconds. His body was tense, leaning forward as he concentrated on the doorknob.
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'The computer's down for a moment. Don't go away.'
'Hey!' But Tracy realized he was on hold again. He cursed softly. The seconds slipped by. Five-four-three-two-one. The second hand slid across the six. The Director was now overdue. Tracy knew as well as anyone in the foundation how long it took to get down to the Library, sign in to hand in a file and return. The receiver was slippery with sweat under his fingers and he was about to drop it back into its cradle when he heard O'Day's voice in his ear like a bee buzz.
'We're back in business. Just take a sec now.'
But the doorknob was turning, the door itself opening inward. Tracy could hear the Director's low voice. He was saying something to his adjutant. He came into view now, one hand on the knob, about to enter.
Tm sorry. It doesn't show anything.'
Disappointment threaded him and all he could say was, 'Are you sure?'
'Of course I'm sure,' O'Day's voice was testy again. 'I'm paid to be sure.'
Tracy's heart sank. The door was opening further. He had been so certain that he was on the right track. Now, as the Director dismissed his adjutant, as the two voices rose slightly as they moved apart, Tracy said, 'Thank you for your time, Mr O'Day.'
'Sorry I couldn't've been more help. That's what these masses've information're for.'
Tracy had cradled the phone by the time the Director walked into the room. What does he want from me? Tracy asked himself. I should see it; it's right there in front of me. But he had so much new data being thrown at him in such a concentrated period of time he could not think straight. He knew he would just have to allow the Director to play out the scene in his own fashion.
'I've been thinking about what you said concerning Macomber.' The Director crossed his arms over his chest. 'What evidence against him do you have, really? The word of a known drug dealer in Hong Kong?'
'You weren't there,' Tracy said doggedly. 'You didn't see his
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.
face or hear the words as he spoke them. He wasn't lying. J.je was fully expecting my death within the hour.'
'They all lie, Mother, all those Hong Kong bastards. It's a way of life for them, they wouldn't know how to stop.'
Tracy privately thought that amusing seeing where the thought came from. 'Mizo wasn't,' he said. 'He was boasting He had no reason to lie. He wanted me to know before he killed
me.'
'Or he was misleading you entirely on the assumption you
might escape.'
Tracy shook his head. 'You're wrong and the bomb in my hotel room proves it. He was terrified of me before I even opened my mouth about what I wanted. He had already broken through my cover story within hours of my landing in Hong Kong. And he assumed I was after a piece of the smuggling business. Why would he do that if he were lying about it?'
The Director looked steadily at Tracy. 'I've just had another signal from HK staff. The police've found the mess you made of Mizo. That's the only thing that's mollifying them. As you can imagine, they didn't like him much except, of course, for the people he was greasing every month.'
When Tracy said nothing, he went on. 'Then all we have is what you've told me.' 'And the murders.' The Director's head turned so quickly, Tracy heard his neck
crack.
'Murders? What murders?'
'John Holmgren's, Moira Monserrat's, Roland Burke's.'
'I don't see the relevance.'
'I don't either. Not yet. But it's there.'
'What you're talking about..." The Director came across the room, stood with his thighs against the wood filigree of the desk edge. 'What you are implying to me is a very dangerous course of action in regards the future of this country. He unfolded his arms, pressed his knuckled fists down onto the desk, his arms rigid as iron bars. 'I want to make my the foundation's - point of view quite clear to you. In my opinion, Delmar Davis Macomber is far too valuable to the future security of this
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country to be tampered with.'
'Damnit!' Abruptly Tracy had had enough. He stood face to face with his former boss. 'He turned a mission! He lied to us; stole us blind. He fooled us completely!"
'And look what he's done with that money.' The Director's voice was maddeningly calm. 'Ploughed it back into America. I'll tell you truly Mother I don't give a damn how much he's jjned his pockets with. That's not my concern. I work for America and that's what comes first. Always and forever. I vvon't have him touched.'
'Jesus!' Tracy said. 'He's laughing up his sleeve at us.'
'Let him. We need him. I forgive him his sins.'
'But I don't! I can't!'
'I know,' the Director said gently. ' "Sultan" was your mission. Your last great bit of machinery built for us, as it turned out. I can understand your anger, your need for revenge.'
The Director's head came forward. 'But you were a professional, once. The best kind of professional: sure, confident, controlled. Your personal feelings have no place here. Put them away. Go on with your life. Forget about Macomber. Whatever he's done is in the past. It no longer concerns you.'
It was then that Tracy almost blurted out the connection he saw between Macomber and the two murders. But he had nothing but theory and, given the Director's current bent, he'd just laugh. Tracy saw then just how far he'd come from his immersion in this life. It was true what the Director said. He wasn't family anymore. And never would be again.
Abruptly, he wanted only one item back from his Hong Kong trip: the diamond ring he had bought for Lauren.
'Now that that's out of the way, I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you.' The Director's voice seemed to float in the air. 'I wouldn't have waited to tell you, of course, but I wasn't sure of your state of mind when you came in. Signals informed me what kind of a gauntlet you were required to run for the past four days.'
'Get to the point, will you?'
Of course.' The Director's eyes locked with his. 'Your father has expired. Rather mysteriously, I might add.'
i.-x
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'What?' Tracy made himself sit up straight.
'To put it quite bluntly, he was murdered four
ago.'
The Director put his hands behind the small of his back clasping them. 'It happened in his apartment. He was apparently taking a bath; he was found naked in the bath. He was strangled with what we suspect was a length of metal wire. A cord of any kind is out, the PM found no traces of fibre in the surrounding flesh; ditto any threads of material. The nature of the wound suggests a thin metal strand.' The Director broke away from the front of the desk. 'He put up quite a battle.'
'He was dying, you know.'
'I didn't.'
'He had maybe six months left.'
The Director said nothing.
'That was taken away from him, too.'
The Director noted the bitterness in Tracy's voice, said, 'I've had everything arranged. Naturally we took him. He was family. We've been waiting for you to return. The moment you called, I had the cortege drawn up. They're waiting for us out front. We've a spot ready at Arlington National.'
Tracy looked at him.
'The adjutant has your jacket hanging in the outer office.' The Director lifted an arm. 'Shall we go?'
As Thwaite had surmised, Flaherty, his own captain, was no problem. Thwaite outlined the case to him in the most general terms and Flaherty gave him the go ahead. Thwaite had worked for him for over six years and had brought him nothing but first class busts and a raft of commendations from the commissioner. Flaherty liked that; it made him feel secure.
Thwaite emerged from his office, preparing himself to beard Toad Tinelli, the Prince of Narco, in his den, when White told him to call Melody.
'I don't know what's up,' the black cop said, 'but it must be something big. She's called three times within the last fifteen minutes.'
Thwaite went to his desk, dialled her number.
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'Doug,' she said, 'I finally had some time to go over that scroll you brought me.'
'I thought you'd already read it."
'Well, I had ... in a way. I read it quickly to give you an idea Of what was in it. But Chinese is a peculiar language. Ideograms have a number of meanings and contexts when juxtaposed with '
'Mel,' he broke in as patiently as he could, 'what're trying to tell me?'
There was a pause. When Melody's voice came again it seemed very small indeed. 'Doug,' she said quietly, 'just what are you mixed up in?'
'Why d'you ask?' he said suspiciously.
'Because there's a shipment corning in on the seventh. That's tomorrow.' He heard her take a deep shuddering breath.
'What the hell is it, Mel?' She was beginning to frighten him.
'It's a shipment of military armament.'
The silence -was so long, so intense that at last she was cornpelled to say, 'Doug? Are you still there?'
Thwaite's mind was racing. Murders of a governor, a senator, among others, the largest dope smuggling operation he or anyone else downtown had ever stumbled across and now an illegal arms shipment. What in Christ's name did it all mean? he asked himself. All three were intertwined, of that he was sure. But how? And who stood in the centre of this, manipulating them all? Again, he felt that chill creep over him, entering his bones and he wondered where Tracy was. He had phoned him repeatedly at the Four Seasons Hotel since he had picked up the message when he had come in this morning. Whatever we're into, he thought, is very goddamned big and I don't like it one bit. 'You're sure.' His voice seemed hoarse and raw. 'Four Uzi submachine guns; four AK-4ys; twenty-four PCn grenades; two Frankes high-velocity mortars equipped with Nitesights; a half-dozen Rheinsbock rocket launchers; a case of Seitran Fintwist missiles; eight gas masks; fifteen canisters of CN gas.'
'Christ Jesus,' he whispered. 'I'll be right over.' All thought °f Toad Tinelli was gone from his mind.
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There was a hole in the earth into which Louis Richter ^3, descending, step by step, as if down an invisible staircase. R^ beading across the polished, convex surface of the mahoga^ casket, ran like tears, disappearing into the bottom of the hole The prayers had been said, the handful of muddy dirt droppgj in a spatter, washed quickly away by the force of the rain. Not far away, a stylishly dressed woman knelt along the elbow of Sherman Drive, placing blue and yellow lilies before a monument. A uniformed driver held a wide black umbrella above her head, protecting her. A young boy, no more than eight or nine stood by the driver's side, holding his hand. He was dressed in a dark suit, the wind brushing his sandy hair into his eyes.
Behind the woman's small veiled head, Tracy could just make out the sightseers on their pilgrimage to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. He shivered, feeling chill despite the Burberry raincoat the adjutant had handed him along with his
jacket.
With a last creak of the winch, the casket came to rest at the bottom of the open grave. Two men stood by, their burly bare arms crossed over the handles of their shovels. They watched the middle distance with unseeing eyes.
'Well,' the Director said softly. That's that.' Tracy turned to go but the other put a hand on his arm. 'Let the others go first. They'll wait for us in the cars.'
Tracy looked at the Director, then beyond him. The stylishly dressed woman was on her feet. She had taken one lily off the grave and now turned, handing it to the young boy. Then the woman took him by the shoulders, moving him gently forward. She whispered into his ear. He dropped the single lily onto the others. He stood there for a moment, staring at what he had done, then he turned around and rejoined his mother. She was, Tracy saw now, quite young. Far too young to be a widow.
Tracy turned his gaze away. That woman's husband should not be dead; just as Louis Richter should not be dead. He only had six months to live. At the very least he could have been granted all of that. But he had not. Life was not neat and predictable. It preferred to come up and kick you in the stomacn while your attention was elsewhere.
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'There is a final matter we must discuss ' The Director turned bit to face Tracy 'One more mission to perform '
'As you said, I am no longer family I no longer belong '
'Yet you were one of us, once Just as your father was He i,ept his faith in us all through the years He believed in us m the service we render this country He understood our unportance'
'Meaning I don't'
'We are not individuals here, Mother You knew that once $e are many-headed but we have only one corpus' The Director's eyes were bright despite the thick lowenng light 'And when one of those heads becomes diseased, when it threatens that corpus, it must be disposed of immediately ' Tracy looked mto those eyes 'I am speaking of Kim He is a renegade now, we are finished with him '
'I thought you said you were letting him run '
The Director nodded his outsized head 'And so I have That phase is at an end, Kim has gone beyond the pale He must be eliminated But I will not jeopardize the foundation in the process' He turned his shoulder into the wind, keeping the rain for the moment at bay 'That is why you must terminate him for us, you are no longer family '
'You're out of your mind ' Tracy lurched a step backward as if the muddy ground had given way beneath his weight A moment ago it had been quite firm 'I'm no hired killer Get away from me '
'All right,'the Director said Til do that But I'll say just one thing in the process By killing your father, Kim went beyond the pale Your abrupt faintheartedness will not cannot save him He has murdered one of the family, that cannot be tolerated '
'Kim'* Tracy said in a whisper 'Kim killed my father' But
Why?' ' don't know and I have no interest in finding out Only the
lct concerns me '
^The truth1' Tracy cried 'I want to know the truth ' The truth is Kim murdered your father Brutally, mahciUs'y, almost sadistically ' The Director came across the muddy
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lawn, pursuing Tracy. 'He roped you into something. I dOn!t know what it is but the results have been devastating. They nm*
be stopped now!'
The Director was shaking slightly, his face in high colour 'I've given you the best reason in the world to take him down What do you.say now? Still want to save him? What for? Lw me remind you, that you yourself were the one who dissented on his application to join us. You knew more about him than I do now. I freely admit that. But I'm trying to rectify my mistake. What are' you doing?'
So this was the favour, Tracy thought, the quid pro quo for which the Director had worked so hard. 'What proof have you
it was him?"
'An Asian was seen by a tenant entering your father's building within the time span the ME gave us of his death.' 'That's all? You would condemn a man on that? The Director blinked. 'That's not all, Mother. Do you remember an incident in Ban Me Thuot early in 1969? There was an infiltration of Kim's unit. A Vietnamese who had been turned by Charlie; someone Kim had trusted, who had once been trustworthy. He did quite a bit of damage before we found out. Three members of Kim's unit butchered in the night like cattle, secrets extracted from them by extreme measures.' The Director paused and when he spoke again, his voice was thick. He had come out from beneath his umbrella's ring of protection and now the rain slid down his face, beading it like a painted mask. 'Do you remember?'
