The Matarese Countdown (Matarese Dynasty 1)

"It's Jamie! He got away, he's safe!"

"That's wonderful, Leslie!" Cam began to shout, quickly lowering his voice.

"It's terrific, really terrific," he added, holding her as tightly as she held him.

"Who reached you?"

"Frank Shields. They got word quite a while ago, but they had to make sure-and they did. It's Jamie!"

"You must be so relieved-" "There aren't words!" Abruptly, as if Lieutenant Colonel Montrose was suddenly aware they were in each other's arms, she stammered and said quietly while partially disengaging herself, "I'm-I'm sorry, Cam. I'm behaving like a child-" "Because your child is safe," Pryce rejoined, still holding her gently as he tipped her face up with a soft right hand.

"You're crying, Leslie."

"They're not tears of sorrow, my friend, my good friend."

"Great relief will do that."

"Yes, I guess it will. Just as great sadness does." Their faces, their eyes, were barely inches from each other's. Cameron released her and stepped back, his hands on her shoulders.

"Thank you, friend," she said.

"For what? For being here? I wouldn't be anywhere else."

"For that, too, but that's not what I meant. A few seconds ago I wanted to kiss you, so wanted to."

"You're pretty vulnerable right now, Colonel."

"That's what I'm thanking you for. For knowing it."

Pryce smiled, and removed his hands.

"You're off the hook for the time being, but don't trust me. I'm not a thirty-six-year-old monk."

"Nor am I a thirty-six-year-old nun.. .. Well, I suppose I sort of have been for the past few years."

"Let's ponder this conundrum the way we intelligence folk examine a problem."

"I'm afraid that would exclude me-" "Come on, lady, I've known since the Chesapeake compound."

"Known what?"

"You're top Army G-Two and so was Ev Bracket."

"What?"

"You're an elite unit, what the British call Special Branch. You go from place to place unearthing the evil people-with proper training, naturally."

"How in heaven's name did you learn that?"

"You gave yourself away too many times. You think like a spook, often talk like one, and the Army doesn't send a commando or an RDF officer to the University of Chicago's computer-science graduate school so he or she can carry a laptop into combat."

"This is funny, really funny!" exclaimed Montrose, her reddish eyes laughing, no denial in them.

"Only five minutes ago, Frank asked me if I had told you, and I said I hadn't, but I thought you might have suspected because I used the computer in Belgravia. He doesn't mind, incidentally, but was it the computer?"

"No, much simpler. I realize that some people at the Pentagon and in Langley think it's unwise, but we CIA types and you G-Two types often have good reason to work together. The bottom line is that I reached an old friend in Arlington and he researched you and Bracket for me. One or the other of us saved the other's life on a Prospekt in Moscow, can't remember which. He had no choice."

Leslie now laughed out loud, softly but loud enough for the guard at the table to glance over.

"Agent Pryce," she said, "or even Special Agent Pryce, do you think we can spin the tape back a bit and start again?"

"I think it's a grand idea, Colonel Montrose. Our tape's clean and I suggest we begin again with a dinner of thanks at a very fine restaurant.

Since I play fast and loose with contingency funds, it's on me."

"And I shouldn't trust you?"

"Not for an instant. That should be on the tape."

Frank Shields instructed his secretary of nineteen years that he would be "off property" for two days and nobody was to be told his whereabouts. That included anyone and everyone at the Agency, no matter their rank.

"I'll use the Denver connection, if any crises come up," had said the middle-aged woman who was all too familiar with her employer's "disappearances." She went on to say that she would reach Mrs.

Shields, reassuring her while preparing her for her husband's absence, and would issue an order for an aircraft to fly the deputy director to Montreal. This order was to be classified top-secret and subsequently canceled after the plane to Cherokee was early airborne, the pilot instructed to return to Andrews.

"As usual, you've covered all the bases, Margaret," Frank Shields had complimented.

"However, perhaps you should run a check on the Denver relay."

"I already have, sir. There've been no invasions. I call Colorado and your pager alerts you, the call itself ending in Denver."

"I think I'll propose you for the directorship."

"It's yours for the asking, Frank."

"I don't want it and you're organizationally better qualified.. ..

And, Maggie, tell Alice I'm really sorry I had to leave today. The kids are coming to dinner tonight or tomorrow with all their children; she'll be pretty upset."

"That's not until later this week," corrected the secretary.

"You may be back by then."

"How do you know?"

"Alice called and asked me to check your calendar. I'd rather you didn't make a liar out of me, so I hope you will be back."

"I'll do my best."

"Please do."

"I believe that's an order."

Shields then redoubled his efforts to put the Montroses, mother and son, together, working at the highest levels of security with Geoffrey Waters, MI-5, and MI-6. It was decided that the simplest and perhaps the most obvious method of travel would also be the safest. The Ticonderoga was scheduled to patrol the Persian Gulf between Bandare Charak and Al-Wakrah; that was the modus operandi. As the jets swept off the carrier's deck on their reconnaissance runs, one aircraft, its fuel at capacity, would break formation and fly to a Royal Air Force base in the district of Loch Torridon, Scotland. The pilot was Lieutenant Senior Grade Luther Considine, his passenger, James Montrose Jr.

The only comment from an elated Jamie was, "Hey, out of sight!

Except that biology prick had to write Mom! That sucks!"

The reunion would take place in a small village twelve miles north of Edinburgh. Geoffrey Waters personally made the arrangements for special communications equipment and three armed MI-5 personnel to meet the American aircraft and drive the pilot and the Montrose boy to the country inn on the far outskirts of Edinburgh. The inn was commandeered by the government, no locals or tourists to be in residence for forty-eight hours starting with the arrival of Miss Joan Brooks and her brother John-Leslie Montrose and Cameron Pryce.

Waters remained in London, staying in touch with Frank Shields and Brandon Scofield relative to the new material Beowulf Agate had unearthed.

There was another reason for Cameron Pryce to be on the flight to Scotland. Luther Considine carried on his person photographs of the two Persian Gulf estates Jamie Montrose had identified as similar to the compound where he was held prisoner. The pilot had obtained what backgrounds he could find on the owners of the two mansions. It wasn't easy. Bahrain was highly protective when it came to sheltering finances from taxes. So a clandestine triangle was created from London to the Great Smokies to an obscure village in Scotland. Information could be instantly relayed, and information was the only weapon they had to penetrate the Matarese and the global strategies it had set in motion. And that it had set "things" in motion was becoming more and more apparent.

THE WASHINGTON POST

(Front Page)

HOUSE INVESTIGATES ORGANIZED-LABOR

TACTICS

WASHINGTON, OCT. 23-In a surprise move, the House Committee on Antitrust has unexpectedly turned its guns on labor, not management. It has called into question the influence major national unions hold over tens of thousands of workers, inhibiting economic expansion.

THE BOSTON GLOBE

(Front Page)

ELECTRO-SERVE MERGES WITH MICRO WARE

BOSTON, OCT 23. Startling the computer industry, the

merging of two leaders. Electro-Serve and Micro Ware, will immediately result in the loss of thirty thousand jobs. Wall Street is enthusiastic, other sectors demoralized.

THE SAN DIEGO

UNION-TRIBUNE

(Page 2)

NAVAL BASE TO DOWNSIZE;

THOUSANDS OF EMPLOYEES TO BE LET GO

SAN DIEGO, OCT 24. The Department of the Navy in Washington has announced that it will drastically reduce operations and facilities at the San Diego naval base, transferring 40 percent of its personnel to other navy installations. The majority of civilian employees will be terminated. As to its extensive Coronado properties, they will be auctioned off to private industry.

Things were happening, but no one in the private or the public sector knew what; or if they did know, they kept silent.

The meeting between Leslie Montrose and her son was predictable.

The mother's eyes were filled with tears, the sight of Jamie's bandaged hands nearly unbearable to her. James Montrose Jr. showed an admixture of relief and exuberance with a touch of embarrassment over his mother's behavior. Cameron Pryce remained at a discreet distance, in the shadows of the deserted inn's pub like barroom. After Leslie released her red-faced son, blew her nose, and took several deep breaths, she spoke.

"Jamie, I'd like you to meet Mr. Pryce, Cameron Pryce. He's a field officer in the Central Intelligence Agency."

"Same business, huh, Mom? Nice to meet you, sir." James junior broke away from his mother.