When Connor signed up with Maryland Insurance as a management trainee, Maggie had been puzzled by his decision. She had always thought that, like his father, Connor would want to be involved in law enforcement. That was before he explained who he would really be working for. Although he didn’t go into great detail, he did tell her who his paymaster was, and the significance of being a non-official cover officer, or NOC. She kept his secret loyally over the years, though not being able to discuss her husband’s profession with her friends and colleagues was sometimes a little awkward. But she decided this was a minor inconvenience, compared with what so many other wives were put through by husbands only too happy to discuss their work in endless detail. It was their extracurricular activities they wanted to keep secret.
All she really hoped was that one day her daughter would find someone willing to wait on a park bench all night just to see her draw a curtain.
7
JACKSON LIT A CIGARETTE, and listened carefully to every word the man from the White House had to say. He made no attempt to interrupt him.
When Lloyd eventually came to the end of his prepared piece, he took a sip of the acqua minerale in front of him and waited to hear what the former Deputy Director of the CIA’s first question would be.
Jackson stubbed out his cigarette. ‘May I ask why you thought I was the right person for this assignment?’
Lloyd was not taken by surprise. He had already decided that if Jackson asked that particular question, he would simply tell the truth. ‘We know that you resigned your post with the CIA because of a … difference of opinion’ - he emphasised the words - ‘with Helen Dexter, despite the fact that your record with the Agency had been exemplary, and until then you were considered her natural successor. But since resigning for reasons that on the face of it seem somewhat bizarre, I believe you have not been able to find a job worthy of your qualifications. We suspect that Dexter also has something to do with that.’
‘It only takes one phone call,’ said Jackson, ‘off the record, of course - and suddenly you find you’ve been removed from any shortlist. I’ve always been wary of speaking ill of the living, but in the case of Helen Dexter, I’m happy to make an exception.’ He lit another cigarette. ‘You see, Dexter believes that Tom Lawrence has the second most important job in America,’ he continued. ‘She is the true defender of the faith, the nation’s last bastion, and to her elected politicians are nothing more than a temporary inconvenience who will, sooner or later, be ejected by the voters.’
‘The President has been made aware of that on more than one occasion,’ Lloyd said, with some feeling.
‘Presidents come and go, Mr Lloyd. My bet is that, like the rest of us, your boss is human, and therefore you can be sure that Dexter will have a file on him which is filled with the reasons why Lawrence isn’t qualified for a second term. And by the way, she’ll have one almost as thick on you.’
‘Then we’ll have to start building up our own file, Mr Jackson. I can think of no one better qualified to carry out the task.’
‘Where would you like me to begin?’
‘By investigating who was behind the assassination of Ricardo Guzman in Bogota last month,’ said Lloyd. ‘We have reason to believe that the CIA might have been involved, directly or indirectly.’
‘Without the President’s knowledge?’ said Jackson in disbelief.
Lloyd nodded, removed a file from his briefcase and slid it across the table. Jackson flicked it open.
‘Take your time,’ said Lloyd, ‘because you’re going to have to memorise everything.’
Jackson began reading, and started making observations even before he had come to the end of the first page.
‘If we assume that it was a lone gunman, trying to get any reliable information will be virtually impossible. That sort of character doesn’t leave a forwarding address.’ Jackson paused. ‘But if it is the CIA we’re dealing with, then Dexter has a ten-day start on us. She’s probably already turned every avenue that might lead to the assassin into a blind alley - unless …’
‘Unless … ?’ echoed Lloyd.
‘I’m not the only person that woman has crossed over the years. It’s just possible that there might be someone else based in Bogota who - ‘ He paused. ‘How long have I got?’
‘The new President of Colombia is making an official visit to Washington in three weeks’ time. It would help if we had something by then.’
‘It’s already beginning to feel like the old days,’ said Jackson as he stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Except this time there’s the added pleasure of Dexter being officially on the other side.’ He lit another cigarette. ‘Who will I be working for?’
‘Officially you’re freelance, but unofficially you work for me. You’ll be paid at the same level as you were when you left the Agency, your account credited on a monthly basis, although for obvious reasons your name won’t appear on any books. I’ll contact you whenever …’
‘No you won’t, Mr Lloyd,’ said Jackson. ‘I’ll contact you whenever I have anything worthwhile to report. Two-way contacts only double the chance of someone stumbling across us. All I’ll need is an untraceable phone number.’
Lloyd wrote down seven figures on a cocktail napkin. ‘This gets straight through to my desk, bypassing even my secretary. After midnight it’s automatically transferred to a phone by the side of my bed. You can call me night or day. You needn’t bother about the time difference when you’re abroad, because I don’t care about being woken up.’
‘That’s good to know,’ said Jackson. ‘Because I don’t think Helen Dexter ever sleeps.’
Lloyd smiled. ‘Have we covered everything?’
‘Not quite,’ said Jackson. ‘When you leave, turn right and then take the next right. Don’t look back, and don’t hail a taxi until you’ve walked at least four blocks. From now on you’re going to have to think like Dexter, and be warned, she’s been at it for thirty years. There’s only one person I know who’s better than she is.’
‘I hope that’s you,’ said Lloyd.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Jackson.