A Murder of Crows (26 page)

“I guess it was his idea to make your voice the voice of OMNI, too?” Hicks said.

The Trustee offered a vague smile. “He called it his tribute to his predecessor.”

“You were Dean once?”

“I was,” she admitted, “but that was long ago and doesn’t matter anymore. Al built on an underlying network we’d always had, but he put us decades ahead of the other agencies. While people were discussing building the ‘information superhighway,’ Al had already mapped it out and planned ahead. He was the right person the University needed at exactly the right time. He brought us into the twenty-first century back in the nineties. Your tactical experience will ensure we remain relevant in the years to come.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom. I’m all choked up.”

Despite Hicks’ sarcasm, the Trustee didn’t skip a beat. “We appreciate how challenging the investigation of the extent of Jabbar’s network may be, but we believe you are making excellent progress. We agree with your decision to concentrate all of your efforts to such an end, despite the ire it has drawn from our friends in Tel Aviv.”

Hicks took a drag on his cigarette. “Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on?”

“But,” she continued, “as your investigation strains your resources in the days ahead, you may be tempted to forget about your predecessor’s directive to keep the Barnyard and the others at a distance. However, this directive is one of the few directives we insist you follow. You are absolutely forbidden from opening a dialogue with any other intelligence agencies until you discover the full extent of the intent, influence, and involvement of Jabbar in Bajjah’s network. You must only share information once we have a firm grasp of what we are dealing with, not before, preferably with Jabbar captured in Roger Cobb’s infamous Cube.”

Hicks didn’t like it. “Al told me, as Dean, my word is final. He said no one can challenge it, including the Trustees.”

“This is largely true. You decide the path the University takes. But like all decisions, they are not without consequences. You’ll find we don’t voice our opinions often except in matters where University sovereignty is threatened. The Bajjah/Jabbar investigation qualifies.”

Hicks looked down at his tie to see if the red dot was still there. It was. “A bullet to the chest is a hell of a consequence.”

“A visceral reminder of what is at stake, a reminder that failure is not an option, James.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it is impossible for the University to stop all of the threats we uncover. We have managed to prevent a good number of plots and attacks throughout our history thanks to your efforts and the efforts of other Faculty Members like you. But we won’t be able to stop anything if we do not have sufficient autonomy to operate. Sharing information of your Jabbar investigation with the likes of Mark Stephens or the Mossad is not an option under any circumstances. We would become the focus of their interest, not Jabbar.”

She continued. “Your entire career has been built on influencing people to work against their own interests in order to further the University’s aims. We are concerned you may decide to feed Stephens or the Mossad only enough information in the hope they will back off and possibly leave us alone. You may even threaten them or blackmail them, as is your forte. We wanted you to know it will not work in this instance and we forbid you from doing so.”

“Christ, you guys are good, aren’t you?”

“Not all of us are guys. So, to be clear, if it’s a choice between allowing one of Jabbar’s plots to succeed or risking University autonomy through sharing information, you are ordered to allow Jabbar to succeed.”

Hicks almost dropped his cigarette. “You can’t mean that.”

“The University cannot function if it is compromised or infiltrated or split apart by several of our own intelligence agencies. Our effectiveness lies solely in our ability to influence events. Your rash actions in seizing Bajjah in Philadelphia raised our profile, which has caused a great deal of inconvenience, but the damage isn’t irreparable. Not yet. The Barnyard still doesn’t know exactly who you are. They don’t know you work for the University. You must make sure they never do.”

She went on. “Unfortunately, your ill-advised rendezvous with Agent Saddon caused her to contact her superiors in Tel Aviv, which has led them to come to New York to pressure you into giving over all the Bajjah information. She tried to dissuade them, if it’s any comfort.”

He wasn’t surprised, but hearing the Trustee tell him made it sting more than it should.

“All you’ve done since I’ve gotten here is give me orders and made threats. Are you bastards doing anything except watch from the stands and armchair quarterback?”

“We can do plenty and we already are,” she said. “We are using our influence to dampen the Mossad’s zeal for the Bajjah information. Tali’s supervisor Schneider is coming to New York to hold your feet to the fire, but we made sure his superiors are less enthusiastic. In fact, he is making the New York trip without their permission or consent. We have also thwarted the Barnyard and NSA attempts to involve other agencies in the hunt against you, such as the FBI and the ATF. The Barnyard still has sufficient resources of its own, but at least they don’t have the resources those other agencies could provide.”

Hicks was impressed, but he knew it wasn’t enough. “With all the pull you keep telling me you have, you still can’t get Stephens to back off?”

She looked away. “Stephens and the Barnyard are a more complicated matter. Direct involvement in their operation would expose other Trustees to undue scrutiny, especially because they have your identity and now Roger’s as well. Avery’s decision to burn down their Weehawken facility was made without authorization and has caused a great deal of internal strife within the joint operation. This strife has slowed their progress considerably. We will use our influence to slow them even further, but you still need to be careful. I don’t believe they’ll give up so easy.”

For once, they agreed.

He smoked his cigarette and thought about what she had told him. And what she hadn’t told him. She’d said he couldn’t share information with Stephens. She hadn’t mentioned anything about his plan to use Roger to knock Stephens out of the game. It meant she most likely didn’t know about it and couldn’t forbid what she didn’t know. It gave him all the wiggle room he needed. If protecting University autonomy was paramount, that’s what he’d do. But she might not like how he did it.

“I guess all the terms you’ve given me are non-negotiable?”

She looked down at the red dot on his chest. “No, James. I’m afraid they’re not.”

Hicks took another drag on his cigarette. “It’s nice to have clarity, I guess.”

“You’re a most capable man. Al made a convincing case to name you as his successor and all of us agreed. But we all answer to someone eventually. And you answer to us.”

Hicks looked down at the red dot on his chest. “Do I have a choice?”

The woman offered a smile. “The best choices are made when we know the consequences.” The smile went away. “I’ll need you to agree to our terms before we can leave here and go on with our mourning of our dearly departed colleague.”

Hicks decided he might have liked this woman if she didn’t have a sniper aiming at his chest. “I promise I won’t involve other agencies until I know more about Jabbar’s network. I’ll also clear it with you first.”

She kept looking at him. Waiting.

Hicks added, “And I will not sacrifice University autonomy for the sake of stopping an attack by Jabbar.”

The woman looked across the street and held up two fingers. The red dot disappeared from Hicks’ chest.

She smiled again. “I’m so glad you listened to reason, James. We have high hopes for you as Dean. Killing you so early in your tenure would have been such a waste.”

Hicks began to breathe again. “Yeah, thanks.”

“You’re not in this alone, my friend. You have the support of a great number of important and influential people. For now, at least. Don’t squander it. And don’t test it, either.”

She slipped her cigarette case back into her clutch as she stood. “You’ve had such a long drive from New York. Why don’t you stay here for another five minutes and enjoy the view?”

“Another threat?”

“We don’t make threats, James. We don’t have to.” She looked around the empty square and inhaled deeply. “This is one of my favorite places in the world. The elms are so tall and dignified and they cast such lovely shade. I learned one of the most invaluable experiences of my life in this same plaza a long time ago. ‘Sometimes, you can’t appreciate the true nature of a thing until you see how the shadows play across it.’” She gave him a little wave. “See you in church.”

Hicks finished his smoke as the sound of her heels clapping against the pavement echoed through the deserted plaza.

He dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe. The goddamned Carousel of Concern had gotten even bigger.

T
HE
D
EAN’S
memorial service was appropriately solemn and mercifully short. Some mourners were clustered in the front pews while various other people were sprinkled throughout the chapel. He didn’t see the Trustee anywhere, and he wasn’t surprised. She looked like the type who had made a career of always being present, but never seen. Al Clay hadn’t been a field operative. The Trustee had been at one time and a skilled one in her day.

He spotted Jason sitting alone in a pew in the middle of the church. He looked visibly shaken, but Hicks saw no point in trying to comfort him. He had no idea if Jason and the Dean had been close or if the Dean had been a voice on the phone for him, too. It didn’t matter. The dead were gone. The living had problems of their own.

As the preacher began his sermon, the Carousel of Concern fired up again in his mind.

Stephens. Jabbar. The entire University operation. Roger’s plan. Rahul. Shaban. Tali. The Mossad.
The Trustees.

Hicks considered using the rare opportunity of his presence in a church to ask God for some help, but God had never been one to return his calls. He decided to skip it and use the occasion to try to clear his mind.

The preacher spoke in general terms of loss and redemption and of a life well spent and of the eternal reward awaiting his loyal servant, Al Clay. It didn’t sound like the preacher knew Al any better than Hicks did. Hicks found some measure of comfort in that. The Dean was nothing if not consistent.

Hicks decided to duck out before the final ‘amens’ were said. He had paid his respects to the memory of a man he had hardly known and decided it was time to leave. He knew he hadn’t paid his respects to Al Clay, merely the version of the man he had called the Dean for so long. It hadn’t brought him any sense of closure. He didn’t believe in closure anyway. Closure was for romance novels and movies of the week and head-shrinkers who made money off the fantasy it existed. In his world, holes remained. It was how he navigated around them that counted.

He had a long drive back to New York and a lot of University business to catch up on along the way.

A
FTER GETTING
something to eat at a quaint diner off the highway, Hicks filled up the tank, got back in the Buick, and began the long drive north. The left lane opened up in front of him and he hit the gas. The V12 engine hummed as it slowly came to life. It was built to go fast and Hicks was happy to oblige.