WILL AND KATE LEE were in bed, reading, when her private line rang. “Yes? Say again? This doesn’t make any sense; how long have we been watching him? That’s what I thought. Fay had already left the Agency when we started watching him. All right, we’ll meet in the morning and talk about it then. Good night.” She hung up.
Will looked at her sideways but said nothing. She looked back at him.
“Oh, all right, I’ll tell you. Teddy Fay didn’t show up at the opera tonight. While all our agents were enjoying Le Nozze de Figaro…”
“I love that overture,” Will said.
“Don’t interrupt. While they had the opera house staked out, Teddy killed a Syrian spy named Omar Said, who we’ve been surveilling for about four months, ever since he arrived in New York. He is…was attached to the Syrian mission to the UN, and he had diplomatic immunity.”
“Is Mr. Said a great loss to the UN, the Agency or the human race?” Will asked.
“Certainly not; he was a goatish, murderous son of a bitch, and the planet Earth is a better place without him.”
“Then I take it we have no complaints?”
“It’s an embarrassment to the Agency that a diplomat who was under our constant surveillance was murdered while we were lured away.”
“You weren’t providing him with any sort of protection, were you?”
“No, we were trying to catch him hobnobbing with terrorists, so we could arrest them and kick him out of the country.”
“Does anybody know you were surveilling him?”
“Just the FBI. They were helping us.”
“Then, if he wasn’t your charge and nobody knows you cared, why is it an embarrassment?”
“It just is,” she said. She turned out her light, fluffed her pillow and turned away from him.
“I suppose this terrible news means you’re not in the mood for…”
“I didn’t say that,” she said, turning back to him.
Late the following morning, Kate convened a meeting in her conference room. Attending were Hugh English, the DDO; his deputy, Irene Foster; Ian Thrush, the DDI; his deputy, George Weaver and, by television conference hookup from New York, Lance Cabot.
“All right, Lance,” Kate said, “give us the whole thing.”
“Good morning, Director,” Lance said.
“Good morning from all of us.”
“One of my officers, a new one named Holly Barker, while looking for Teddy Fay at the opera a week ago yesterday, found him, quite by accident. He walked up to her and invited her to join him for La Bohème. He was heavily disguised, and she didn’t recognize him, and she thought it might be a good idea to look around inside, so she accepted. He told her his name was Hyman Baum and that he was the retired owner of a dress business in the garment district.
“After the opera, he invited her to join him. She declined, saying she would be traveling, and they said good night. Part of his disguise was a cane, ostensibly because he had had a recent knee replacement, but after they parted, Holly saw him sprinting for a cab. On the way home, she realized that she might have spent the evening with Teddy. Her suspicions were reinforced by the fact that our investigation determined that Mr. Baum did not exist.
“He told her that he had the same seats every week; accordingly, last night we staked out the Met in large numbers, pulling people off other assignments. Teddy had exchanged his tickets three times with other operagoers, leading us on a wild goose chase around the hall. While we were chasing Teddy at the Met, he was dispatching Mr. Said, at the apartment of his girlfriend. We questioned her, and she said all she saw was a man in a ski mask with a small gun. She phoned the police, and one of our consultants, Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, of the NYPD, called me. That’s it.”
“There are two things that concern me here,” Kate said. “One: if Teddy didn’t show and went to the trouble of exchanging his tickets three times, he must have made Ms. Barker as one of us. How?”
“Holly introduced herself, using her own name, but that would have meant nothing to Teddy, and she cannot think of any other reason he would know who she was. Neither can I or anybody else who has addressed the issue.”
“Two,” Kate said. “Said has only been in the country for four months, and we have only been interested in him for that long. Since Teddy retired from the Agency more than a year ago, how would he have been aware of Said’s existence, let alone his presence in New York?”
“I think that is an issue best addressed at your end of this hookup,” Lance said.
Irene Foster half-raised a hand. “That information had to have come from inside,” she said, glad to be the one to point it out.
“Or from someone on the New York task force,” Kate said. “Lance, question everyone there who knew about Said. While you’re at it, I want you to wring out Ms. Barker and figure out how he made her.”
“Will do,” Lance said.
“Hugh,” she said, addressing her DDO, “I want your people to make a list of everyone in this building who knew we were surveilling Omar Said and put every one of them through the wringer—polygraphs, the works.”
“Yes, Kate,” English said. He turned to his deputy. “Irene, this will be your baby; get on it as soon as we’re out of this meeting.”
“Certainly, Hugh,” Irene replied.
“Director,” Lance said from New York.
“Yes, Lance?”
“Holly Barker is with me, and she may have figured out how she was made.” Lance introduced an attractive woman to the group. “Tell them, please.”
“Good morning,” Holly said. “A couple of days before I first met Teddy at the opera, my FBI partner and I checked out a record store called Aria, on the West Side, at Lance’s suggestion. My partner went in alone, and when he identified himself as an FBI agent, the clerk behind the counter refused to talk to him and told him to get out. The day after I met Teddy, I went back to the shop, looked around and bought a CD. I mentioned to the clerk that I had seen La Bohème the night before and that I wanted the recording, and she suggested a version.”
“Did you identify yourself, Holly?” Kate asked.
“No, ma’am, not in light of my partner’s experience. I thought I would go back after establishing myself as a customer and see what I could learn. My point is, at the opera I gave Teddy absolutely no reason to think I was Agency, and the only other point of contact could have been at the record shop.”
“Do you think he might have been in the shop?”
“No, I was the only customer, but I think it’s quite possible that he saw me either enter or leave the shop, or both.”
“But why would seeing you there make him think you were Agency? You were just a woman buying a copy of La Bohème, for all he knew.”
“Unless he followed me from the shop,” Holly said. “From there, I walked to Sixth Avenue and took a cab back to the Barn. If he followed me, he would know where the building is.”
“But Holly, we’ve only been in the building for a couple of weeks; it’s brand-new. How could he associate it with us?”
“Maybe he saw someone he knew at the Agency going in or out,” Holly said.
“Or,” Lance said, interrupting, “maybe he researched the address on the Agency’s computers.”
“But we’ve locked him out of the computers,” Irene Foster said. “We’ve changed all the log-in codes.”
“Then I think that puts the ball back in your court at Langley,” Lance said. “Maybe the codes should be changed again.”
“Thank you, Lance,” Kate said, “and thank you, too, Holly; you’ve been a great help.”
“Thank you, Director,” Holly said.
Kate turned back to the group. “Call technical services and change the codes again. Irene, there are still a lot of people down there who knew Teddy. That would seem a logical place to start your internal investigation.”
“Yes, Director,” Irene said.