57

Lance had hardly hung up the phone when it rang again.

“Yes?”

“It’s Kate Lee, Lance.”

“Good morning, Director.”

“Lance, the president wants to announce his candidacy for reelection, probably in the next day or two; he’s meeting with his campaign people now. Where are we on the St. Marks operation?”

“I anticipate a resolution within hours,” Lance said.

“Can you promise me that?”

“No, Director, because I’m not on St. Marks, doing it myself. But I believe that before the day is out, I can give you a conclusive answer.”

“All right. I’ll expect to hear from you later in the day.”

“Something else, Director: Hugh English’s secretary told me yesterday that an item had appeared on the Drudge Report website saying that Hugh had resigned because he has Alzheimer’s disease.”

“I’ve heard about it, and I’m shocked.”

Lance thought he detected an ironic overtone to that statement. “I’ve told Carolyn that she can give a quote to Drudge, attributed to an inside source, but not named, that the information is false.”

“Good. If I’m asked about it, I’ll issue a strong denial.”

“Thank you, Director. I’ll call you later today.”

“I’ll sit by the phone, Lance. Good-bye.” She hung up.

Lance leaned back in his chair and began doing deep breathing exercises to calm himself.

Stone and Holly got into Thomas’s car.

“Thomas,” Stone said, “can you drive us straight to the airport when we’re done with this errand? I’ve told Dino to take the rental car and our luggage.”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “Please tell me what you hope to accomplish by this trip up Black Mountain.”

“That remains to be seen,” Holly said.

“I think it’s time the two of you and I had a frank discussion,” Thomas said.

“Go ahead,” Stone said.

“Of course, I’ll deny that this conversation ever took place, and I expect you will, too.”

“All right.”

“I’ve known for some time that Harold Pitts is Teddy Fay.”

Stone’s mouth fell open. “Why on earth didn’t you tell us?”

“Because Teddy had work to do, work that I and some others on the island thought necessary to preserve this little country as something other than the dictatorship of Winston Sutherland.”

“You mean you had Teddy kill Sir Winston?”

“No; he did that entirely on his own hook. Let me explain.”

“Please do.”

“Teddy came here first as Pemberton, an Englishman, some months ago. He and I met in the restaurant, and we talked a lot. Gradually, as I got to know him better, the talk turned to local politics. I told him that the island was being strangled by corruption at the top, that Winston was squeezing practically every business on the island for money, using Croft and duBois for muscle, then shipping it into an offshore account. Pemberton, as I knew him, was intensely interested in this. He intimated that he was motivated, and had the skills, to remove Croft and duBois from the picture. The words were never spoken directly; these were highly nuanced conversations.”

“So you hired Teddy to kill Croft and duBois?”

“Certainly not; didn’t you hear what I just said? He volunteered, and I did not discourage him. Then Pemberton abruptly disappeared and Harold Pitts arrived.”

“Who is in this with you?”

“There is a group of us on the island, mostly members of Parliament, as I am, who thought that with Croft and duBois out of the way, we could go to Winston and bully him into backing off. After all, he had already accumulated enough to keep him in luxury for the rest of his life.”

“From what I know of Sutherland,” Stone said, “I don’t think he could have been bullied.”

“Neither do I, and I was prepared to go further if he resisted us. Then, early this morning, Teddy killed duBois, and I believe that he suddenly found himself with an opportunity to kill Winston, and he did that, too. I don’t think it was planned.”

“How long have you known that Pemberton/Pitts was Teddy?”

“I suspected it from what I had read in the international press about Teddy, but I didn’t press him on it, until you arrived and told me what you were doing. Immediately after that, after he had taken on the Harold identity, I asked him, straight out, if he was Teddy Fay, and he admitted it. Irene has always known, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Holly,” Thomas said, “you’re very quiet back there.”

“I’m just taking all this in, Thomas, and I’m wondering what your next move is.”

“Let me ask you a question: do you believe that you and Stone can take Teddy alive, get him past the police and transport him back to the United States in your airplane this morning?”

Holly took a deep breath. “After reflection, no.”

“Then you’re going to Black Mountain to kill him.”

“I’m not,” Stone said.

“I am,” Holly said. “And so are you, aren’t you, Thomas? You and your people can’t risk having Teddy taken by the police, just as my people can’t.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Thomas said.

“Are you in touch with Teddy?” she asked.

“He has a cell phone.”

“Call him and tell him that I want to talk to him, just talk. Tell him I have an offer from the director that he should consider.”

“Do you have an offer from the director?” Stone asked.

“No.”

Thomas pulled the car to the side of the road, took out his cell phone and pressed a button.

Yes?” Teddy said.

“It’s Thomas. I’m in the car with the woman you know as Ginny Heller; her real name is Holly Barker, and she’s with the Agency.”

“I’ve known that for several days,” Teddy said. “It took some time for me to place the face, because she looks different from the last time I saw her, but I finally remembered.”

“Holly has an offer from the director to present to you,” Thomas said.

“Do you really believe that?” Teddy asked.

“Yes, I do, and I think you should hear her out. This could be the best possible solution.”

“Does it involve going back to the States and being tried?”

“I don’t know; you’ll have to ask her that.”

“Where are you, Thomas?”

“We’ll be at Irene’s in ten minutes.”

“All right, I’ll hear her out, but I’m not making any promises.” He hung up.

“He says he’ll hear your offer, Holly.”

“All right.”

Thomas put the car in gear, began humming, then softly sang the words…‘Gonna cut him, if he stands still, and shoot him, if he runs.’”

“What?” Holly asked.

“Just an old song,” Thomas said. “An old blues.”