Rencke said. “But maybe later when we go public someone will make the call.”
McGarvey was starting to settle down a little, his experience kicking in. Someone had assassinated his son-in-law for so far an unknown reason or reasons that most likely had something to do with Howard McCann’s connection to Robert Foster and the Friday Club and whatever it was Givens had uncovered. “What’s on the disk?”
“Nothing believable, Mac,” Rencke said. “Honest injun. It’s like the ravings of a maniac, or someone on a bad acid trip. The Friday Club has supposedly come up with a plan to overthrow the government by force, arresting the president and his cabinet and putting them on trial for treason.”
“When?” McGarvey asked, for want of anything else to say. Rencke was right, it was crazy beyond belief, but then so had crashing airliners into tall buildings.
“That part doesn’t matter. The guy leading the army is Howard McCann in hiding somewhere nearby, gathering an elite strike force of disaffected SEALs, Delta Force, and Bureau and Company field officers.”
“McCann is dead.”
“Yeah. Which makes the disk worthless.”
“Somebody must have thought differently,” McGarvey said.
“His cell phone was missing too, and if they can crack the encryption algorithms they’ll have his phone book. Lots of important numbers.”
“My number will come up,” McGarvey said. “Todd called just before it happened.” Christ, he didn’t know how he was going to tell Katy. He didn’t know about his daughter. Hell, he didn’t even know about himself, what he would do once he caught up with Todd’s killers. But he was sure they wouldn’t live to see a court of law let alone the inside of a jail.
“One of our Gulfstreams is on the way down for you. Should be at SRQ within the hour.”
“Get Liz to All Saints. She’ll need someone with her. Maybe Louise.” All Saints was the hospital in Georgetown that the CIA and most of the other intelligence agencies in the area used. Everyone on the staff had secret or better clearances and there’d never been a leak from the place, no matter the circumstances nor how high the patient’s profile might have been. “I assume Todd was taken there.”
“Yeah,” Rencke said. “And you’ll have some muscle.”
“For the time being,” McGarvey replied, a little distantly now that he was ramping up to go back into the field. “Send somebody over to pick up Givens. Give it to the Bureau for now, but I want him brought out to the Campus and secured.” The Campus was the cluster of buildings, above- and belowground, at the Agency’s Langley headquarters.
“Pushing a Washington Post reporter around could get a little dicey, kemo sabe.”
“Do it,” McGarvey said. “We’ll see you at the hospital.”
“Right,” Rencke said and broke the connection.
McGarvey looked out the window but Katy was gone, and when he turned around she was standing in the doorway a stricken look on her features.
“Who’s going to All Saints?” she asked.
“Liz,” McGarvey said and he started toward his wife, but she held up a hand.
“How bad is she?”
“It’s not her.”
Katy’s eyes narrowed. “Not Audie. Is it Todd? Has there been an accident?”
He had dreaded this moment for his entire career, but it was the nature of the business that casualties would occur. It was war, us against them. Only when the star that would be put up in the lobby of the Old Headquarters Building, anonymous, no name, representing a fallen agent you were close to, was the burden next to unbearable.
“Todd was shot to death this afternoon.”
Katy went pale. “Dear God in heaven,” she said softly, and she looked deeply into her husband’s eyes. “Assassinated?”
“Yes.”
“Has Elizabeth been told yet?”
“Otto and Louise are driving down to the Farm right now. He called me from the car. They’ll be there for her, and they’ll chopper up to the hospital. Todd’s body is there.”
“Why?” Katy asked, her voice plaintive, pleading.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out.”
Katy hesitated for just a beat. “I’ll pack if you’ll clear the table,” she said, and she turned and left.
And so it begins, McGarvey thought, rage already building up inside of him.
FIVE
Givens’s town house was in Berwyn Heights, northeast, just within the Beltway, in a pleasant brick and redwood complex, with a pool, clubhouse, and playground for the kids. Thousand Oaks was home to mostly young, upwardly mobile couples, near to a good private prep school, shopping malls, and a couple of decent restaurants. His town house was a three-bedroom—one for him and his wife, one for their only child, Larry,