Zebra network, p.23
Zebra Network, page 23
part #1 of David MacAllister Series
there was nowhere on this earth for them to run and be safe. Nowhere. “Then it is up
to us to stop him before he goes too far.” The American shook his head. “You don’t
understand, Gennadi, how far he has taken it already.”
“Then you will tell me, and together we will see what must be done.” The
Russian forced a calmness into his voice that he did not feel. He had worked with this
one for enough years to understand that when he was upset it was for good cause.
“Someone must be feeding him information.”
“From where?”
“Moscow.”
“How? Where is his pipeline? Who does he see? Where do they meet?” With
care, he thought.
“You’re in a better position to find that out than I.”
“There has been nothing, trust me when I tell you this,” the Russian said. “I
have made… inquiries. If McAllister is getting information it is coming from somewhere
here in Washington, or very nearby. And by the way, that was an inspired guess on
your part that he would actually break into CIA headquarters.”
“He was after the O’Haire files.”
“Did he get them?”
“I don’t know. But we’re going to have to assume that he did. And you know
what that could mean.”
“They’ve received their instructions. I think we can assume that they are safely
out of harm’s way for the moment.”
“He broke into headquarters, for God’s sake, Gennadi,” the American shouted.
“Do you think Marion is going to be any more difficult for him?” The Russian shook his
head. “I asked you once if McAllister was a god, and you told me he was not. He was
just an ordinary man with extraordinary abilities. What has changed your mind?”
“We’ve failed four times to stop him.”
“Yes,” the Russian said turning away. “Either he is very good and very lucky, or
he is getting help.”
“Then you agree with me,” the American said excitedly. “Only insofar as it may…
and I stress the word may… be coming from someone local. The wire and satellite links
have contained nothing. I guarantee it.”
“Any ideas?”
“One name comes to mind,” the Russian said. “Who?”
“Someone you don’t know about.”
“What sort of a game are you playing at now?” the American said, raising his
voice again.
“It won’t do you any good to shout. Life goes on, as it must. We have nurtured
this one for a good number of years, even before my time. He was just beginning to
produce when this came up, and for the past couple of weeks it is my understanding
that he has been silent. If you knew who he was you would understand just how
strange his silence is just now.”
“You’re talking in circles, Gennadi. Who is this man?”
“Nicholas Albright,” the Russian said, watching the American’s face very closely.
“My God!”
“It was thought that his daughter’s entry into the Agency would provide us with
an ongoing source of information about new Agency recruits.”
“Is she working with you as well?”
“No, of course not. But from what I understand she is very close to her father.
She tells him things.”
“Then he knows where McAllister is hiding?”
“I don’t know.”
The American’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying to me?”
“Albright is not my project, never has been. But if there is some maniac in
Moscow who is trying to stop us, Albright could very well be his contact here. Now it
seems more than logical. But I can’t directly make an approach for fear of tipping my
hand. You can see the delicacy?”
“What can I do?” the American asked.
“For the moment, nothing other than what you have already been doing. I’ll
attend to Albright personally.”
“That would be very dangerous..
“I don’t mean myself physically, I meant I’ll have Albright taken care of. That
section of Baltimore is very dangerous. Breakins are not unheard of. If we can get the
information from him, we will at least know who our enemies are.”
“McAllister.”
“He’s only the tool, my friend. We must learn the identity of the craftsmen now.”
The American looked away. “Do they realize what is at risk?” The Russian did not
answer. Fear, as a powerful, dark force threatened to engulf him.
“McAllister cannot be allowed to continue.”
“No.”
“God help us all if he succeeds,” the American said. “Or even convinces someone
else that he’s not crazy.”*
After a successful strike you must wait and watch for the enemy’s reaction
before you make your next move. It is essential that this order of battle be strictly
adhered to, especially when the odds are so heavily stacked against the operative in the
field.
McAllister looked up from the last of the newspapers he had been reading.
Stephanie was already finished.
“Anything?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing yet,” he said wearily. He was tired of being cooped
up in their hotel room, and he could see that she was too. Yet it was far too dangerous
for either of them to wander far from the hotel now. After last night the Agency, the
FBI, and the District police would be searching for them both. But until something
happened they could do nothing but wait.
They’d both managed to get some sleep, and in the morning neither of them had
mentioned her outburst of the night before. But her confession hung in the air between
them like a thick veil that neither of them was ready to part. For his part, McAllister
didn’t know what to say or do, because in fact he didn’t know how he felt about her or
his wife; except that he found Stephanie very attractive and sincere, and that his
marriage had been failing for a long time before his wife had called him a traitor and
had tried to kill him. He was confused, and hurting. Everything had been turned upside
down for him in Moscow. No matter what happened or didn’t happen, though, he knew
for a fact that his life would never be the same, could never be the same. The
circumstances had changed, but so had he.
“What makes you so sure that they’ll say anything to the news media?” she
asked. “They haven’t so far.”
“The Bureau is involved now, and so are the District police. It’s bound to attract
some attention. They’ll have to make some kind of a statement.”
“It could be anything. It might mean nothing.”
“Even their silence could tell us something,” McAllister said, though he wasn’t at
all sure what that might be. Something inside of him, however, some instinct told him
that it was not time yet to move. They needed more information.”We have four
names,” Stephanie was saying. “It’s what you were looking for. let’s follow up those
leads at least.”
“Not yet,” McAllister said. He glanced at his watch. It was nearing noon, time for
the television news broadcasts. He got up, crossed the room and turned on the
television to the local ABC affiliate. A commercial was playing.
“What are you waiting for?” Stephanie asked, her voice rising. “A message.”
“What?”
“I did the unthinkable as far as they are concerned,” he said, turning back to
her. “I broke into headquarters and outsmarted their restricted-access codes. They’re
going to have to strike back. They’re going to have to react, publicly. It’s the only way
they can let me know one of two things. A-that they want to make a deal with me, in
which case it’ll mean that someone is running scared, that I’m getting too close.”
“We’re getting too close,” Stephanie corrected. He nodded. “Or, B-that they’re
going to pull out all the stops and come after me as if I were public enemy number
one.”
“And what will that tell you?”
“It’ll tell us who is conducting the investigation-someone legitimate, who
honestly believes I’m a traitor. Or, the penetration agent who knows that I’m onto him
and must be stopped.”
“How can you be sure?” Stephanie asked, her frustration mounting. “I can’t,”
McAllister said. “Anymore than you can be sure of me, especially after last night.”
She had picked up one of the newspapers, then slammed it down
on the table. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I planned it? I ought to
have my head examined!”
“Me too.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me. Something else you found out last
night besides those four names.”
He said nothing.
“Don’t you think I deserve at least that much? The truth at least? My life is on
the line too. If there is an APB on you, then there certainly is one on me. I made it clear
to Dexter that I was not being coerced.”
“Even the strongest would have cooperated if there had been a gun pointed at
her head.”
“I’m not getting out of this! You’re not going to push me away. Goddamnit, talk
to me! Let me help you. Trust me.”
Trust me.
It came down to that. It always did in the end. “There,” she said pointing at the
television, sudden fear in her voice.
McAllister turned around, and for a moment he was totally confused. What
appeared to be a police composite drawing of a thicknecked, heavily jowled man with
thick gray hair, long mustache, and square glasses filled the screen behind a news
announcer. Beneath the picture was his name. But it wasn’t him. He turned up the
sound.
…considered armed and extremely dangerous. In a tersely worded
announcement, the Federal Bureau of Investigation named McAllister as one of the top
control officers of the O’Haire spy network. The O’Haires, as you remember, were
recently sentenced to life imprisonment for their part in a spy ring that stole SDI secrets
and turned them over to the Russians.
“Allegedly, McAllister worked with Soviets in Moscow to learn which areas of SDI
technology the Russians most needed. It was his job, the Bureau spokesman said, to
relay these questions back to the O’Haires. When the information had been gathered
here in the U.S., it was transmitted to McAllister who had been stationed with the
Central Intelligence Agency at the American Embassy in Moscow.
“The CIA refused to comment this morning, except to say that it was their
understanding an arrest was imminent.
“McAllister was recently recalled to Washington for questioning, but disappeared
two weeks ago from New York City. It is believed, however, that now he is in the
Washington area. In other news.
“It’s not your picture,” Stephanie said.
McAllister had been staring at the television screen. “No,” he said absently.
“It’s your message, though,” she said breathlessly. “But what are they trying to
tell you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. His head was spinning. He had expected anything but
this. They’d obviously insulated the public from anyinvolvement. There would be no
chance passerby spotting him and turning his description over to the police. But what
else was going on here? Was it possible they were trying to lull him into a false sense of
security? Not likely, he thought. The drawing was so obviously wrong, and had been
supplied by someone who obviously should know what he looked like, that there had to
be some meaning to it.
“The Russians know your face, and so does the Mafia,” Stephanie was saying.
“They’ll see this, and they’ll know that it’s open season on you.” Was that it? Was that
the message? Perhaps it wasn’t meant for him. Perhaps it was meant for those trying to
stop him. Go ahead and catch McAllister, we won’t interfere. Was that what it meant?
“let’s get out, Mac. Before it’s too late for both of us.” Stephanie looked up at
him, her eyes wide.
It was tempting, considering everything that had happened in the past couple of
weeks. Yet he wondered if there was anyplace they could run that would be very safe
for long. If the CIA or KGB wanted you badly enough, they would find you. Their
networks were simply too extensive worldwide for anyone to hide from them. Sooner or
later someone would come. For the rest of their lives they would be constantly looking
over their shoulders, constantly tensing their muscles waiting for the bullet from a
sniper’s rifle.
“I’ve spent my life working for the Company. I can’t give it up now.”
“What has it gotten you?” she cried. “I won’t turn my back on it, Stephanie.”
“Then they’ll kill you,” she said. “You’ll make a mistake. You’ll be in the wrong
place at the wrong time. You’ll trust someone you shouldn’t. They won’t keep missing.
Sooner or later they will succeed.”
“Then you go,” he said gently. What did he feel toward her? His sense of
responsibility and obligation clouded his inner thoughts.
“I’m not leaving, David,” she said, using his given name for the first time. “I
meant what I said last night. I love you. I won’t abandon you. Let’s get out of here. Far
away. Now. Together. Please!”
“I… I can’t,” McAllister said, the words choking in his throat, a heavy feeling in
his chest. “I can’t just leave it.”
“You must! You can’t win, not against all of them!”
“I have to try.”
“Why?” she shrieked. “What are you trying to prove?”
“Someone set me up, someone is trying to kill me.” He was seeing Miroshnikov’s
face swimming in a mist in front of his eyes. The Russian interrogator was smiling.
We have made great progress together, you and I. I am so very proud of you,
Mac, so very pleased.
How could he ever forget the pain and the humiliation he had suffered at the
hands of the Russians? Of one Russian in particular.
“They’ll keep trying, don’t you see that?” Stephanie cried. “It means I’m on the
right track,” he said. Sweat popped out on his forehead.
Stephanie came across the room to him and hesitantly reached up and touched
his face, his cheeks, his lips as if she were a blind person trying to learn what he looked
like. “I had to try,” she said softly. “For you. For us. But I think I finally understand why you can’t turn your back on everything and run away. I could do it, but not you. It’s the
Company. Your father. Your friends. Your obligations.. your wife.” McAllister closed his
eyes. He could see Gloria’s face now, contorted into a mask of fury and hate, the gun in
her hand. Traitor, she had screamed at him, and she had sincerely meant to kill him.
The pain was almost beyond endurance. He had to know why. At least that much.
“I understand, darling, believe me I do,” Stephanie was saying. McAllister
opened his eyes and reached for her, drawing her close. “Do you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, her heart beating against his chest. “Whatever you do I’ll stay
with you. I won’t desert you, I promise.”
“And afterward?” he asked. “If there is an afterward?” She looked up at him.
“That will be up to you,” she said. “But for now we have four names to follow up, four
leads from the computer. It’s something.”
“Five,” McAllister said.
A look of confusion crossed her features. She glanced over at the computer
printout on the table. “Four…,’ she started.
“There was something I didn’t tell you about last night,” McAllister said.
