LANCE CABOT SAT at his desk going over the personnel files of some of his senior agents. A station head at the Chicago bureau was stepping down, and he needed to find a replacement. There was no one available with the necessary qualifications and experience. Someone would have to be promoted, it was just a question of finding the right agent. Excellence in the field did not necessarily translate into leadership abilities. Of necessity, some of the best agents worked alone.
Lance frowned, tossed a file on his desk, and reached for another.
The phone rang. Lance scooped it up. “Yes?”
It was Claire, his secretary. “There’s a Miss Millie Martindale here to see you.”
“Who?”
“Millie Martindale. She says you worked together.”
“Oh.” Lance remembered vaguely. Millie Martindale was the girlfriend of an FBI agent, and had actually been involved in resolving a mission involving the kidnapping of a congressman’s daughter. But why she thought that qualified her to show up at the CIA director’s office without an appointment was beyond him. He’d read her the riot act. “All right. Send her in.”
Millie Martindale came through the door as if they were long-lost friends. “Lance, how are you? It’s been too long. We have so much catching up to do. Listen, I have another appointment. Could you walk with me, and we can talk along the way?”
Lance stared at her, dumbfounded. He blinked twice and then found his voice. “Now, Miss Martindale . . .”
“I know, I know, I should have called. You have a very important job, and I don’t want to interrupt it. But I do need to talk to you and you need to talk to me, so if you would walk me out.”
Millie had linked her arm in Lance’s and was literally pulling him toward the door.
“I have no intention—”
“You can buy me a strawberry milkshake.”
Lance’s mouth fell open. He said nothing, but allowed himself be pulled toward the door.
In the outer office, Claire glanced up inquiringly.
“The director’s going out,” Millie said. “Hold his calls.”
They left the office, walked down the hall, and waited silently together in the elevator. Neither said a word until they were outside.
“Where did you learn that?” Lance demanded.
“What?”
“‘Strawberry milkshake.’”
“A mutual friend. He said not to use it unless I had to.”
“What the devil is going on?”
“Your security has been compromised. I don’t know if your office has been bugged, but your phone has been hacked.”
“Where’d you get that idea?”
“You just gave our mutual friend an assignment. Someone tried to kill him on his way to New York. He sent me to warn you your phone must be hacked.”
“How does he know it’s not his phone?”
“With all due respect, sir, and please understand that it’s him speaking—”
“Yes?”
“He says you’re stupid for asking the question. He says you’re careless for letting your phone be hacked. He says you sent him on a mission that’s compromised from the get-go.”
“He’s not going to do it?”
“He’ll still do it, but he says you owe him double.”
Lance smiled. “Typical.”
“What are you paying him?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s what I figured. Anyway, he says you can talk to me. You’re sending him to Paris to ferret out a mole. He’s not going to be able to call you for obvious reasons. He doesn’t want this going though Agency channels. I’ll be your go-between. He says he’s going out on a limb, and he wants you to have his back. It may be crucial for him to get in touch with you at once. If I call your office, put me though immediately. I’m not going to talk on the phone. I’ll tell you where to meet me, and you drop everything and go.”
“That’s going to be damn annoying.”
“If you can’t do it, let me know, and he’ll come home.”
“What?”
“He’ll bail on the operation. He’s says this is either important to you or it isn’t. If it’s important enough for him to pull up stakes and rush off to Paris, it’s important enough for you to take a phone call. Immediately. No red tape. If I call your office, your secretary puts me through. You have to make that clear. I’m a high-priority confidential source, and my calls take precedence over anything. You can be in the middle of a meeting with your station chiefs, and you don’t say take a number I’ll call back, you pick up the phone. And when I give you a location you say something’s come up I’ve got to go, and you head there. The first time that doesn’t happen, our friend will be booking his airfare home.”
“I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this.”
“I’m not talking to you like this. He’s talking to you like this. It’s not going to do you any good to get angry at me. If you fail to comply with his wishes, I will merely relay the information and he’ll take it from there. But I suggest that you don’t put him in that position. I’m merely telling you what will happen if you do.
“If all that is agreeable to you—bad choice of words, I’m sure it isn’t—but if not, tell me now and you can start grooming someone else for the job. Are we agreed?”
“I guess we have to be.”
“Good.” Millie smiled. “Our friend has no messages this time. When you get back to the office, check out your phones.”
Millie turned and walked away.
Lance didn’t go back to his office. He walked down by the river, sat on a secluded bench, and took his cell phone apart.
It didn’t take long to find it. A small microchip hidden by the battery. He pried it out, and looked around to see that no one was watching. He smashed his cell phone on a rock, and threw it in the Potomac.
Lance was pretty angry.
He got a lot on the throw.