When they came through the final airtight door, four people were waiting for them—two women and two men, all cleared for Top Secret BioLab.
Hamilton knew that at least one of them, possibly two, were reporting to the CIA. And he strongly suspected that one of them was reporting to the Russians, either through an intermediary or directly to the Russian rezident. And he thought it entirely likely that one or more of them was on the payroll of those people in Las Vegas.
He was greatly frustrated that neither he nor Kevin Dennis—although they had set many traps—had been able to positively identify even one of them.
So they lived with the problem, following the adage that a devil one knows is better than a devil one does not.
“There have been some indications that we are making some progress,” Colonel Hamilton announced to them. “And some disturbing signs that we are yet again on a path leading nowhere. We won’t know more until tomorrow morning. Make sure everything is secure, and then you may leave. Please be on time in the morning; we have a busy schedule tomorrow.”
When they had gone, Kevin Dennis asked, “What is Aloysius going to do, Colonel?”
“I really don’t know, Kevin, but I can’t take the risk that what I want to say to him will go any further than him.”
“You think he will call back?”
Hamilton shrugged.
“I don’t know,” Hamilton said. “I’m taking some small solace from the motto of those two brilliant young men who started Yahoo: ‘You Always Have Other Options.’ But between you and me, I have no idea what other options there might be.”
Thirty seconds later, both Hamilton’s and Dennis’s CaseyBerrys vibrated.
It was Casey.
“I see that you’re both on,” his voice announced as it returned from a twenty-four-thousand-mile trip into space.
“Well, Aloysius,” Hamilton said, “how nice to hear from you. Say hello to Aloysius, Kevin.”
“Hello, Aloysius,” Dennis said.
“Jack,” Casey said, “do I have to say I wouldn’t do this for anybody but you?”
“How about Castillo? Would you cut some of those people out of the loop if it would keep him from being thrown to the Russians?”
“I called back, didn’t I?”
“And not only are those people not going to hear this conversation, but I have your word that you won’t tell them anything about it?”
“You have my word, Jack, but I’m damned uncomfortable with this. I don’t like lying to those people.” He paused, then added, “And in my book not telling somebody something is the same thing as lying.”
“What I’m afraid of is that one—or more—of them has either concluded, or will conclude, that if Castillo and the Russians are the price for the Russian stock of Congo-X, the President was right to agree to pay it.”
“In other words, you don’t trust them. Jesus Christ, Jack, you know who they are!”
“Their most endearing quality to me is their ruthlessness,” Hamilton said. “I daresay they wouldn’t be as rich as they are without that characteristic. But I have noticed a tendency on the part of wealthy ruthless people to regard people on their payroll as expendable.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I think Colonel Castillo made a mistake in taking that money from those people when he began this project. What was it, two hundred thousand dollars?”
“That’s all he asked
for. They’d have given him whatever he asked for. A couple of million, if that’s what he wanted.”
“If he took only two dollars, people like those people would still have felt, ‘He took the money, he’s ours. We can do with him what we decide is in the best interests of the country.’”
After a moment’s hesitation, Casey said, “I’m one of those people, Jack. And so are you.”
“You and I are functionaries, Aloysius. Useful, but not, so to speak, anointed, as they are, by the Almighty. Have those people asked you what you think of the President’s willingness to sell Castillo and the Russian spooks—without whom that laboratory in the Congo would still be manufacturing this obscene substance—to the Russians?”