"Is that it?" Kendall looked straight ahead. "Are you done with me?"
"We are," Hart said, "but Rob Batt isn't."
Batt's name got a reaction out of the general. "Batt? What does he have to do with anything? He's out of the picture."
"I don't think so." Hart got up, stood behind his chair. "Batt's had you under surveillance from the moment you ruined his life. Those photos of you and Feir going in and out of the health club, the barbecue joint, and The Glass Slipper were taken by him."
"But that's not all he has." Gold lifted his briefcase meaningfully.
"So," Hart said, "I'm afraid your stay at CI will continue awhile longer."
"How much longer?"
"What do you care?" Hart said. "You no longer have a life to go back to."
While Kendall remained with two armed agents, Hart and Gold went next door, where Rodney Feir was sitting, guarded by another pair of agents.
"Is the general having fun yet?" Feir said as they took seats facing him. "This is a black day for him." He chuckled at his own joke, but no one else did.
"Do you have any idea how serious your situation is?" Gold said.
Feir smiled. "I do believe I have a handle on the situation."
Gold and Hart exchanged a glance; neither could understand Feir's lighthearted attitude.
Gold said, "You're going to jail for a very long time, Mr. Feir."
Feir crossed one leg over the other. "I think not."
"You think wrong," Gold said.
"Rodney, we have you stealing Typhon secrets and handing them over to a ranking member of a rival intelligence organization."
"Please!" Feir said. "I'm fully aware of what I did and that you caught me at it. What I'm saying is none of that matters." He continued to look like the Cheshire Cat, as if he held a royal flush to their four aces.
"Explain yourself," Gold said curtly.
"I fucked up," Feir said. "But I'm not sorry for what I did, only that I got caught."
"That attitude will certainly help your case," Hart said caustically. She was done being manhandled by Luther LaValle and his cohorts.
"I'm not, by nature, prone to being contrite, Director. But like your evidence, my attitude is of no import. I mean to say, if I were contrite like Rob Batt, would it make any difference to you?" He shook his head. "So let's not bullshit each other. What I did, how I feel about it is in the past. Let's talk about the future."
"You have no future," Hart said tartly.
"That remains to be seen." Feir kept his maddening smile trained on her. "What I'm proposing is a barter."
Gold was incredulous. "You want to make a deal?"
"Let's call it a fair exchange," Feir said. "You drop all charges against me, give me a generous severance package and a letter of recommendation I can take into the private sector."
"Anything else?" Hart said. "How about a summer house on the Chesapeake and a yacht to go with it?"
"A generous offer," Feir said with a perfectly straight face, "but I'm not a pig, Director."
Gold rose. "This is intolerable behavior."
Feir eyed him. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, counselor. You haven't heard my side of the exchange."
"Not interested." Gold signaled the two agents. "Take him back down to the holding cell."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Feir didn't struggle as the agents grabbed hold of either arm and hauled him to his feet. He turned to Hart. "Director, did you ever wonder why Luther LaValle didn't try a run at CI while the Old Man was alive?"
"I didn't have to; I know. The Old Man was too powerful, too well connected."
"True enough, but there's another, more specific reason." Feir looked from one agent to the other.
Hart wanted to wring his neck. "Let him go," she said.
Gold stepped forward. "Director, I strongly recommend-"
"No harm in hearing the man out, Stu." Hart nodded. "Go ahead, Rodney. You have one minute."
"The fact is LaValle tried several times to make a run at CI while the Old Man was in charge. He failed every time, and do you know why?" Feir looked from one to the other, the Cheshire Cat grin back on his face. "Because for years the Old Man has had a deep-cover mole inside the NSA."
Hart goggled at him. "What?"
"This is bullshit," Gold said. "He's blowing smoke up our ass."
"Good guess, counselor, but wrong. I know the identity of the mole."
"How on earth would you know that, Rodney?"
Feir laughed. "Sometimes-not very often, I admit-it pays to be CI's chief