“What was it about?”
“All right, I’ll tell you; I guess I owe you that. But you breathe a word of this, and you’ll be in more trouble than you can imagine.”
For a moment, Stone thought he probably shouldn’t know this; then he changed his mind. “Tell me,” he said.
23
HEDGER, IF THAT WAS HIS NAME, leaned back in his chair and sipped his whiskey. “It was a Middle Eastern operation,” he said, “and those are always a mess. We had—still have—a shortage of Arabic-speaking operatives, locals who blend in—and that always makes things difficult. Even when you recruit them, you can never really put any trust in them; you never know if they’re doubling for Hamas, or some other radical organization.
“Cabot fit in really well out there; his Arabic was outstanding—so good that he could impersonate an Arab on the phone, if not in person; he wore the region like an old shoe. So much so that I began to suspect him.”
“Of what? Of being an Arab?”
“Of course not; the man looks like a California surfer, doesn’t he?”
No, Stone thought, but he understood what Hedger meant. “If you say so.”
“I began to feel that he was too much taking the part of the people who were supposed to be the opposition. He didn’t like the Israelis we dealt with—thought they were too smart and too devious—and he seemed charmed by Arab custom and even by their fanaticism. He said that’s the way he would be if he were a Palestinian. That sort of comment doesn’t go down well with one’s colleagues, you know?”
“I can imagine.”
“Lance developed some Palestinian contacts—a man and a woman—whom he trusted, but I didn’t. He kept making the case that we should take them inside, tell them more. I wouldn’t do it. I always felt that, the moment we turned our backs, they’d be on the phone to Yasser Arafat or somebody, and that we’d end up paying the price. Well, we did.”
“Did trust them?”
“To an extent. And we paid the price. We put together an operation—I can’t tell you exactly what, but it was supposed to disrupt the leadership of a particularly virulent organization. Lance and I went to Cairo, where our people there put together two explosive devices that were to be carried into buildings by our two operatives, concealed somewhere, then left with timers set. We arranged a meeting in a safe house, and both operatives showed up, but Lance didn’t. He called and said he’d be late. I explained to these two people how the devices worked, and showed them how to set the timers. I waited as long as I could for Lance, then I sent them on their way. Five minutes later, the safe house exploded. The operatives had brought something with them. Lance was, apparently, watching from across the street, and he was on the scene very quickly.
“I was unconscious and was taken to a safe hospital. When I woke up and figured out what had happened, I told my people to tell Lance I had died. That’s how Stan Hedger came to be dead.”
“Does Lance still believe you’re dead?”
“No, certainly not. We ran into each other in Paris last year, so that was that. Lance left the Company shortly after the Cairo debacle and went private.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he used the contacts he’d made in the Middle East while serving the Company to serve himself. He began trading in arms, drugs, Japanese automobiles, whatever he could get his hands on, buy or sell. He’s still dealing with the two operatives who nearly killed me.”
“I can see how your people might be unhappy with him.”
“Unhappy, yes, but officially, he can’t be touched.”
“Why not?”
“Because he can’t be proved to have committed a crime, or even to have sold me out. Contrary to popular belief, the Company no longer blithely assassinates people who have annoyed it. Never did, really.”
“But you still want to hurt him.”
“I want him out of circulation. He’s a danger to people he once served with, like me, and he’s not exactly working in his country’s best interests.”
“So you’re doing this privately, without Company cooperation?”
“Why do you think I hired you?”
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve thrown a monkey wrench into my investigation of Lance.”
“How so?”
“There were two retired cops working for me, remember? They were taking turns surveilling you and Lance. Now one’s in the hospital, and the other has quit. He’s the one who wants to meet up with you in a dark alley.”