I looked across at the senior agents. “Your turn. Tell me what happened upstairs. Who was shot? Is it Ron Burns?”
One of the two agents, Millard, took a deep breath, then spoke. “This doesn’t leave the room, Alex. Not until we say so. Understood?”
I nodded solemnly. “Is the director dead?”
“Thomas Weir is dead. Weir is the one who was shot,” said Agent Millard.
Suddenly I felt weak-kneed and woozy. Somebody had killed the director of the CIA.
Chapter 34
CHAOS.
Once word got out about the murder of Thomas Weir, it was on every TV channel and the press corps began to circle the Hoover Building. Of course, nobody could tell them what we thought had really happened, and every reporter knew in his gut that we were holding back information.
Later that afternoon we’d learned that the body of a woman had been found in the woods of northern Virginia. We believed that she might have been the sniper who killed Tom Weir.
A Winchester rifle was found with the body, and it was almost definitely the murder weapon.
At five o’clock the Wolf made contact again.
The phone in the crisis room rang. Ron Burns himself picked up.
I had never seen the director look graver, and more vulnerable. Thomas Weir had been a friend of his; the Weir and Burns families went on vacation to Nantucket together in the summertime.
The Wolf began, “You’re an extraordinarily lucky man, Director. Those bullets were meant for you. I don’t make many mistakes, but I also know they’re inevitable in a military operation this complex. I accept that mistakes happen in any war. It’s simply a fact of life.”
Burns said nothing. His face was expressionless, a pale mask, impossible to read, even by any of us.
The Wolf continued, “I understand how you’re feeling, how all of you are feeling. Mr. Weir was a family man, yes? Basically a decent human being? So now you’re angry at me. You want to put me down like a mad dog. But think about it from my perspective. You were told the rules, and you still chose to go your own way.
“As you can see now, your way led to disaster and death. It always will lead to disaster and death. It’s inevitable. And the stakes are much higher than just a single life. So let’s move on. The clock is ticking.
“You know, it’s difficult to find people today who will listen. Everyone is so self-absorbed these days. Take Captain Williams, for example, our assassin. She was instructed not to tell anyone about the job she was hired to do. But she told her husband. Now she’s dead. I understand that you found the body. News flash: the husband is dead, too. You might want to retrieve the body at their home. It’s in Denton, Maryland. Do you need an address? I can help with that.”
Burns spoke. “We already found her husband’s body. What’s the point of your call? What do you want from us?”
“I would think it would be obvious, Mr. Director. I want you to know that I mean exactly what I say. I expect compliance, and I will get it. One way or the other, I will get my way. I always do.
“So, that having been said, let me give you the gory details—the numbers. Our price to go away. I hope someone has a pencil and paper.”
“Go ahead,” said Burns.
“All right, here we go, then.
“New York, six hundred fifty million U.S. dollars. London, six hundred million. Dollars. Washington, four hundred fifty million. Frankfurt, four hundred fifty million. A grand total of two billion one hundred and fifty million in U.S. dollars. Plus, there are fifty-seven political prisoners I want released. You will be provided with the names in the next hour. For what it’s worth, all the prisoners are from the Middle East. You figure it out. Interesting puzzle, don’t you think?
“You have four days to deliver the money and the prisoners. That’s plenty of time, no? More than fair? You’ll be told how and where. You have four days from . . . right . . . now.
“And, yes, I’m perfectly serious. I also realize that I’m asking for a great deal of money and that it will be deemed ‘impossible’ to raise. I expect to hear as much. But don’t bother with the excuses or the whining.”
There was a short pause.
“That’s the fucking point of the call, Mr. Burns. Deliver the money. Deliver the prisoners. Don’t mess up again. Oh, and I suppose there is one other thing. I don’t forgive and forget. You are going to die before this is over, Director Burns. So keep looking over your shoulder. One of these days, I’ll be there. And boom! But for right now, four days!”
Then the Wolf hung up.
Ron Burns stared straight ahead and spoke through clenched teeth, “You’ve got that right, boom! One of these days, I’ll be there for you.”