The Icarus Agenda (55 page)

Emmanuel Weingrass sat in the red Naugahyde booth with the stocky, mustached owner of the Mesa Verde café. The past two hours had been stressful for Manny, somewhat reminiscent of those crazy days in Paris when he had worked with the Mossad. The current situation was nowhere near as melodramatic and his adversaries were hardly lethal, but still he was an elderly man
who had to get from one place to another without being seen or stopped. In Paris he had to run a gauntlet of terrorist scouts without being noticed from Sacré-Coeur to the Boulevard de la Madeleine. Here in Colorado he had to get from Evan’s house to the town of Mesa Verde without being stopped and locked up by his team of nurses, all of whom were charging about because of the activity outside.

“How did you do it?” asked Gonzalez-Gonzalez, the café’s owner as he poured Weingrass a glass of whisky.

“Civilized man’s second oldest need for privacy, Gee-Gee. The toilet. I went to the toilet and climbed out a window. Then I mingled with the crowd taking pictures with one of Evan’s cameras, like a real photographer, you know, until I got a taxi here.”

“
Hey
, man,” interrupted Gonzalez-Gonzalez. “Those cats are making
dineros
today!”

“Thieves, they are! I climbed in and the first thing the
goniff
said to me was ‘One hundred dollars to the airport, mister.’ So I said to him, taking off my hat, ‘The State Taxi Commission will be interested to hear about the new Verde rates,’ and he says to me, ‘Oh, it’s you, Mr. Weingrass, just a joke, Mr. Weingrass,’ and then I tell him, ‘Charge ’em two hundred and take me to Gee-Gee’s!’ ”

Both men broke into loud laughter as the pay telephone on the wall beyond the booth erupted in a staccato ring. Gonzalez placed his hand on Manny’s arm. “Let García get it,” he said.

“Why? You said my boy called twice before!”

“García knows what to say. I just told him.”

“Tell
me
!”

“He’ll give the Congressman the number of my office phone and tell him to call back in two minutes.”

“Gee-Gee, what the hell are you
doing
?”

“A couple of minutes after you came in, a
gringo
I don’t know arrived.”

“So what? You get plenty of people in here you don’t know.”

“He doesn’t belong here, Manny. He ain’t got no raincoat or no hat or no camera, but he still don’t belong here. He’s got on a suit—with a vest.” Weingrass started to turn his head. “
Don’t
,” ordered Gonzalez, now gripping Weingrass’s arm. “Every now and then he looks over here from his table. He’s got you on his mind.”

“So what do we do?”

“Just wait and get up when I tell you to.”

The waiter named García hung up the pay phone, coughed once, and went over to the dark-suited, red-haired man with a vest. He leaned down and said something close to the well-dressed customer’s face. The man stared coldly at his unexpected messenger; the waiter shrugged and crossed back to the bar. The man slowly, unobtrusively, put several bills on the table, got up, and walked out the nearby entrance.

“
Now
,” whispered Gonzalez-Gonzalez, rising and gesturing for Manny to follow him. Ten seconds later they were in the owner’s disheveled office. “The Congressman will call back in about a minute,” said Gee-Gee, indicating the chair behind a desk that had seen better days decades ago.

“You’re sure it was Kendrick?” asked Weingrass.

“García’s cough told me yes.”

“What did José say to the guy at the table?”

“That he believed the message on the telephone must be for him, since no other customer fit his description.”

“What was the message?”

“Quite simple,
amigo
. It was important for him to reach his people outside.”

“Just
that
?”

“He left, didn’t he? That tells us something, doesn’t it?”

“Like what?”

“
Uno
, he has people to reach, no?
Dos
, they are either outside this grand establishment or he can talk to them by other means of communication—namely, a fancy telephone in an automobile, yes?
Tres
, he did not come in here in his also-fancy suit to have a Tex-Mex beer that practically chokes him—as my fine sparkling wine often chokes you, no?
Cuatro
, he is no doubt
federale
.”

“Government?” asked Manny, astonished.

“Personally, of course, I have never been involved with illegals crossing the borders from my beloved country to the south, but the stories reach even such innocents as myself.… We know what to look for, my friend.
Comprende, hombre?
”

“I always said,” said Weingrass, sitting behind the desk. “Find the classiest non-class joints in town and you can learn more about life than in all the sewers of Paris.”

“Paris, France, means a great deal to you, doesn’t it, Manny?”

“It’s fading,
amigo
. I’m not sure why, but it’s fading. Something’s happening here with my boy and I can’t understand it. But it’s important.”

“He means much to you also, yes?”

“He is my
son
.” The telephone rang, and Weingrass yanked it up to his ear as Gonzalez-Gonzalez went out the door. “
Air-head
, is that
you
?”

“What have you got out there, Manny?” asked Kendrick over the line from the sterile house on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. “A Mossad unit covering you?”

“Far more effective,” answered the old architect from the Bronx. “There are no accountants, no CPAs counting the shekels over an egg cream. Now,
you
. What the hell
happened
?”

“I don’t know, I swear I don’t
know
!” Evan recounted his day in detail, from Sabri Hassan’s startling news about the Oman revelations while he was in his pool to his hiding out in a cheap motel in Virginia; from his confrontation with Frank Swann of the State Department to his arrival at the White House under escort; from his hostile meeting with the White House chief of staff to his eventual presentation to the President of the United States, who proceeded to louse up everything by scheduling an award ceremony in the Blue Room next Tuesday—with the Marine Band. Finally, to the fact that the woman named Khalehla, who had first saved his life in Bahrain, was in reality a case officer in the Central Intelligence Agency and was being flown over for him to question.

“From what you’ve told me, she had nothing to do with exposing you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you believed her when she said she was an Arab filled with shame, you told me that. In some ways, Air-head, I know you better than you know yourself. You are not easily fooled about such matters. It’s what made you so good with the Kendrick Group.… For this woman to expose you would only add to her shame and further inflame the crazy world she lives in.”

“She’s the only one left, Manny. The others wouldn’t; they couldn’t.”

“Then there are others beyond others.”

“For God’s sake,
who
? These were the only people who knew I was there.”

“You just said this Swann told you a blond creep with a foreign accent figured you were in Masqat. Where did
he
get his information?”

“No one can find him, not even the White House.”

“Maybe I know people who
can
find him,” interrupted Weingrass.

“
No
, Manny,” insisted Kendrick firmly. “This isn’t Paris and
those Israelis are way off limits. I owe them too much, although someday I’d like you to explain to me the interest they had in a certain hostage at the embassy.”

“I was never told,” said Weingrass. “I knew there was an initial plan the unit had trained for and I assumed it was designed to reach someone inside, but they never discussed it in front of me. Those people know how to keep their mouths shut.… What’s your next move?”

“Tomorrow morning with the Rashad woman. I told you.”

“After that.”

“You haven’t been watching television.”

“I’m at Gee-Gee’s. He only allows videotapes, remember? He’s got a replay on one of the ’82 Series, and most everyone at the bar thinks it’s today. What’s on television?”

“The President. He announced that I’m in protective seclusion.”

“Sounds like jail to me.”

“In a way it is, but the prison’s tolerable and the warden’s given me privileges.”

“Do I get a number?”

“I wouldn’t know it. There’s nothing printed on the phone, only a blank strip, but I’ll keep you informed. I’ll call you if I move. Nobody could trace this line and it doesn’t matter if they did.”

“Okay, now let me ask you something. Did you mention me to anyone?”

“Good God, no. You may be in the classified Oman file and I did say that a lot of other people deserved credit besides myself, but I never used your name. Why?”

“I’m being followed.”

“
What?
”

“It’s a wrinkle I don’t like. Gee-Gee says the clown on my tail is federal and that there are others with him.”

“Maybe Dennison picked you out from the file and assigned you protection.”

“From what? Even in Paris I’m vault-tight—if I wasn’t, I’d have been dead three years ago. And what makes you think I’m in any file? Outside of the unit no one knew my name and
none
of our names were used in that conference the morning we all left. Finally, Air-head, if I’m being protected, it’d be a good idea to let me know about it. Because if I’m dangerous enough to warrant that kind of protection, I might just blow the head off someone I don’t know who’s protecting me.”

“As usual,” said Kendrick, “you may have an ounce of logic in your normal pound of implausibility. I’ll check on it.”

“Do that. I may not have too many years left but I wouldn’t want them cut short by a bullet in my head—from either side. Call me tomorrow, because now I’ve got to get back to the coven before the inhabitants report my departure to the head police warlock.”

“Give my regards to Gee-Gee,” added Evan. “And tell him that when I’m home he’s to stay the hell out of the importing business. Also, thank him, Manny.” Kendrick hung up the phone, his hand still on it. He picked it up and dialed
O
.

“Operator,” said a somewhat hesitant female voice after more unanswered rings than seemed normal.

“I’m not sure why,” began Evan, “but I have an idea that you’re not an ordinary run-of-the-mill operator for the Bell Telephone Company.”

“
Sir …?
”

“It doesn’t matter, miss. My name is Kendrick and I have to reach Mr. Herbert Dennison, the White House chief of staff, as soon as possible—it’s urgent. I’m asking you to do your best to find him and have him call me within the next five minutes. If that’s impossible, I’ll be forced to call my secretary’s husband, who’s a lieutenant on the Washington police, and tell him I’m being held prisoner at a location I’m fairly certain I can identify accurately.”

“Sir,
please
!”

“I think I’m being reasonable and very clear,” interrupted Evan. “Mr. Dennison is to reach me within the next five minutes, and the countdown’s begun. Thank you, Operator, have a good day.” Again Kendrick hung up the phone, but now he removed his hand and walked over to a wall bar, which held an ice bucket and assorted bottles of expensive whisky. He poured himself a drink, looked at his watch, and proceeded toward a large casement window that looked out on the rear floodlit grounds. He was amused at the sight of a croquet course bordered by white wrought-iron furniture; he was less amused by the sight of a marine guard dressed in the casual, unmilitary uniform of the estate’s staff. He was pacing a garden path near the stone wall, his uncasual, very military repeating rifle angled in front. Manny was right: he was in jail. Moments later the telephone rang and the congressman from Colorado walked back to it. “Hello, Herbie, how are you?”

“How
am
I, you son of a bitch? I’m in the goddamned shower, that’s how I am.
Wet!
What do you want?”

“I want to know why Weingrass is being followed. I want to know why his name ever surfaced anywhere, and you’d better have a damn good explanation, like his personal well-being.”

“Back up, ingrate,” said the chief of staff curtly. “What the hell is a Weingrass? Something put out by Manischewitz?”

“Emmanuel Weingrass is an architect of international renown. He’s also a close friend of mine and he’s staying at my house in Colorado, and for reasons that I don’t have to give you, his being there is extremely confidential. Where and to whom have you circulated his name?”

“I can’t circulate what I’ve never heard of, you fruitcake.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you, Herbie? Because if you are, I can make the next few weeks very embarrassing for you.”

“If I thought that lying would get you off my back, I’d go to the well, but I haven’t got any lies where a Weingrass is concerned. I don’t know who he is, so help me.”

“You read the debriefing reports on Oman, didn’t you?”

“It’s one file and buried. Of course I read it.”

“Weingrass’s name never appeared?”

“No, and I’d remember if it did. It’s a funny name.”

“Not to Weingrass.” Kendrick paused, but not long enough for Dennison to interrupt. “Could anyone in the CIA or NSA or any of those outfits put a guest of mine under surveillance without informing you?”

“No
way
!” shouted the White House suzerain. “Where you and the rutabaga you’ve laid on us are concerned, no one moves
sideways
for an
inch
without my knowing about it!”

“One last question. In the Oman file, was there any mention of the person flying back with me from Bahrain?”

It was Dennison’s turn to pause. “You’re a little obvious, Congressman.”

“You’re a little closer to those soft-boiled eggs over your face. If you think I’m bad news for you and your man now, don’t even speculate on the architect’s connection. Leave it alone.”

“I’ll leave it alone,” agreed the chief of staff. “With a name like Weingrass I can make another connection and it scares me. Like the Mossad.”

“Good. Now, just answer my question. What was in the file about the flight from Bahrain to Andrews?”