The Book of Spies

60

Washington, D.C.
IT HAD been a long day at Catapult, and Gloria Feit was clearing her desk to leave. The usual office chatter sounded from the corridors. As she folded her reading glasses, she noticed a soft sound as the door behind her opened. She turned.
"I need to see you, Gloria." Hudson Canon's bulldog face vanished back inside his office.
With a quiver of uneasiness, she walked after him.
"Close the door and sit down." He was already settled behind his desk, his big hands splayed on top.
She thought for a moment about the man in the basement who had tried to erase Tucker, but she had taken the spare keys to the door from the lockbox and they were safely in her purse. There was no way Canon or anyone else knew the man was down there. He would not talk, but he was eating like an elephant.
She settled herself into one of the chairs facing the desk, crossed her legs casually, and put a pleasant smile on her face.
"What can I do for you, boss?"
"Where's Tucker?" The question was abrupt, the tone full of authority.
She gave a little frown. "He hasn't returned. That's all I know."
"When he called in, what did he say?"
That took her aback. How did Canon know Tucker had phoned from the grocery store to have her pick up his attacker, and later from the Baltimore airport? Then she realized he could have checked Catapult's automated phone logs.
"He asked whether I wanted a sandwich from Capitol City market," she lied. "I told him no. He called a second time, but I don't know from where. He asked if there were any important messages for him. There weren't. That was the last I heard. Are you worried something's happened to him? I don't think you need to be. He would've told me if he was in trouble and needed backup."
He leaned forward. "What's he up to?"
"I haven't a clue."
"Is it more of this nonsense about the Library of Gold?"
"Well," she said carefully, "it is the operation he's focused on. But it's not the only one he's managing, of course."
"That operation is over. You and I both know that that's what he's working on. He's disobeying a direct order."
The force of his intensity shook her. "I haven't heard anything about any of that."
"So Tucker didn't tell you he had a deadline. Now you're informed. It's your duty to help find him. The Senate subcommittee on intelligence is investigating waste in the CIA. They're meeting tomorrow. I had to tell Matt about Tucker. It's minor in some ways, but it's the sort of thing they're looking into. It won't be good for Tucker. He needs to report in."
Matt Kelley, head of the Clandestine Service, was an old friend of Tucker's. It seemed impossible he would report or reprimand Tucker for something so small.
"It's less than minor," Gloria insisted. "My God, if we held our breath over every incident like this with one of our officers, we'd all die of asphyxiation. We have to rely on their being self-starters, entrepreneurial."
Canon shook his big head. "One of the senators knows about it. She sits on the subcommittee. She's got a bone between her teeth, and she's not letting go. She wants Tucker."
"How did she hear?" she asked, shocked.
"God knows," he snapped back. "But that's the situation. We don't want Tucker to be burned. Where is he? What's he doing?"
She was silent, remembering her long history with the spymaster. She had always trusted him, and he had always trusted her. And all the evidence pointed to Hudson Canon's being dirty. Still, he did not sound dirty.
She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Hudson. If I knew where Tucker was, I'd say so."
He stared. "You'd damn well better tell me if you hear anything. Go home and think. Think hard. We've got to find Tucker."
HUDSON CANON stood in front of the mirror in his office, adjusting his tie. His face seemed pale. He slapped both cheeks. When the color returned, he cracked open his door. Gloria was gone. Good. He marched down the corridor, stopping in offices, asking whether anyone had had contact with Tucker or knew where he was. All claimed ignorance. Finally he went into Tucker's office and closed the door. He searched the desk and the file cabinets. In the bottom drawer, he found a bottle of whiskey. He opened it and drank deeply. At least he had uncovered something useful.
Wiping his mouth, he went down the corridor again, repeating his questions and again getting nothing. Then he stepped inside the communications center and stopped at every desk until he reached Debi Watson.
"Where's Tucker?" he asked her.
She peered up, her large eyes wide. "I don't know, suh."
"When's the last time you talked with him?"
"Yesterday. It was just the usual instructions."
He fought impatience. "What were they?"
"To track a cell phone number. I turned it over to NSA."
"Call NSA."
Quickly she picked up her phone and dialed.
"I'll take that." He snapped the phone from her hands. "This is Hudson Canon. Tell me exactly what you've been doing for Tucker Andersen."
"Just a minute. Let me get into that file." The man on the other end of the line paused. "All right, here it is. We traced a cell phone number for him. It was last turned on in the Acropolis Metro station in Athens. I reported the information to Judd Ryder. Then I got a call to locate an island for them. I found four."
An island? That was something Canon knew nothing about. Still, he felt a moment of relief. At least he had something to tell Reinhardt Gruen: Judd Ryder was in Athens and had received information directly from NSA. "You obviously have Tucker Andersen's and Judd Ryder's mobile numbers. I need to know exactly where both are."
"I'll have to get back to you. I've got to go through NRO, you know, and if Ryder and Andersen are using secure mobiles, it'll take some time."
Canon gave him his number. "As soon as you get the information, call me immediately. And I mean immediately."