The Fourth Horseman Read online

  It dawned on McGarvey that Fay was frightened, but it was impossible to tell if the secretary of state was more frightened of the situation in Pakistan or of the president’s decision to have an assassin kill the Messiah. “Do what?”

  “Don’t be crude, Mr. McGarvey. The order was put on the table, and you are a volunteer. You can either carry it out or simply turn your back and walk away. Though from what I understand happened in Florida, the latter might not be an option for you.”

  “Do you think something like that will happen again if Mr. McGarvey turns down the assignment?” Pete asked.

  “You don’t think that it’s a good idea?”

  “I think it’s stupid.”

  Fay smiled faintly. “As a matter of fact, so do I. To this point Pakistan has shown no aggression towards us.”

  “They want our financial support,” McGarvey said. He was fascinated with the secretary’s verbal maneuvering.

  “Shahid has called for a continued cease-fire, in this instance with no time limits.” Shahidullah Shahid was the primary spokesman for the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan, the organization of militants in the country.

  “I would think that’s good news. Are we sending Powers back to Islamabad?”

  “He leaves in the next day or two.”

  “What’s his brief?”

  “To open a dialogue with the new prime minister, whoever he turns out to be,” Fay said.

  “Will Powers be here tonight?” Pete asked.

  “No, Miss Boylan, for reasons that should be obvious to you and Mr. McGarvey.”

  Pete started to say something, but McGarvey held her off. “Has he been told what the president suggested?”

  Fay hesitated. “No.”

  McGarvey had never considered himself a political animal, but he’d seen equal amounts of what he took to be brilliance and sheer idiocy coming from just about every office in Washington and the Beltway, including the National Security Agency, the CIA, the Pentagon and the White House.

  “Every time we’ve had one agenda for an ambassador and another either for our military or intelligence services, it’s almost always turned out for the worse. I would have thought that you guys understood that by now. Especially after Benghazi and the aftermath.”

  “One mistake.”

  “Supplying bin Laden and his fighters with Stinger missiles to use against the Taliban—after which they were and still are used against us. Going into Iraq with no intention of rebuilding their infrastructure. Getting bogged down in an unwinnable war in Afghanistan. The list isn’t endless, Mr. Secretary, but it’s long.”

  Fay took a moment to answer. “Mistakes have been made, but we do what we can do. Have you never made an error?”

  “Plenty,” McGarvey said.

  There was a flurry across the room. The Pakistani ambassador to the U.S., Idrees Burki, came to the middle of the room and held up a hand. The guests fell silent. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present to you the new prime minister of Pakistan, General Hasan Rajput.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Rajput, dressed in a British-cut dove-gray suit, with a blue dress shirt of horizontal white stripes and a plain gray tie, shook hands with Ambassador Burki and then turned to face the crowd, his eyes lingering one by one on the guests.

  McGarvey stepped to one side so that Fay wasn’t blocking his line of sight to Rajput, and the new PM spotted him, with no hint of recognition.

  “Who is he?” Fay asked.

  “Until two days ago he was the general in charge of the ISI’s Covert Operations Division,” McGarvey said.

  “I’ll be damned,” Fay replied, and he started forward, but McGarvey laid a hand on his arm.

  “Just a minute, Mr. Secretary. What are you going to say to him?”

  “I’ll merely introduce myself. It’s customary in these circumstances.”

  Other diplomats approached Rajput and the Pakistani ambassador, forming what amounted to a receiving line.

  “You have a little time yet. And considering what our SEAL teams did to their weapons, and the loss of lives on both sides—none of which has been made public—it might be better if you didn’t get to him first.”

  “I thought that you weren’t a political animal.”

  “I’m not, but first I want to see if Dave Haaris shows up.”

  Fay gave him a sharp look. “He blames the ISI for murdering his wife. He wouldn’t dare show his face here.”

  “Well, he just walked in the door,” Pete said.

  Haaris, perfectly dressed in what was obviously an expensive tuxedo, an unreadable expression on his face though his lips were set in a tight smile, stopped to get a glass of champagne from a waiter then headed across the room to where the receiving line was forming.

  He passed McGarvey and Pete without acknowledging them but nodded to the secretary of state and his wife. “Mr. Secretary, good to see you here this evening,” he said without pausing.

  “Stay here, Mr. Secretary,” McGarvey said, and he headed after Haaris, Pete at his side.

  “What are you going to say to him?” she asked.

  “Depends on what he says to Rajput. But no matter what, I want the new PM to get a good look at my face.”

  “He’s probably read your file.”

  “Yeah, but I want him to see me in person,” McGarvey said.

  Pete stopped him. “You’re going through with it.”

  “I don’t know yet,” McGarvey said, though that wasn’t exactly the truth.

  He hurried to catch up as Haaris walked straight to Rajput and the ambassador, bypassing the line. Both men looked up with interest.

  “David, I didn’t expect to see you here this evening,” Rajput said. He introduced Haaris to the ambassador, who offered his hand, but Haaris ignored it.

  “I thought not, considering that your people tried to have me killed last night.”

  A hush spread across the big room. McGarvey and Pete stood only a couple of feet behind Haaris.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rajput said.

  The ambassador said something to the new PM that McGarvey didn’t quite catch. The look of puzzlement on Rajput’s face turned to sadness.

  “But that’s terrible news about your wife. You’ve often spoken to me about her. But I can give you my word of honor that I knew nothing about such an attack. And I’m in a position to know about such things.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Pete whispered in McGarvey’s ear.

  “So far as he knows it.”

  “You’re a liar,” Haaris said. Shock rippled across the room.

  The look on Rajput’s face didn’t change. “You’re distraught, David. You don’t know what you’re saying.” He reached out a hand but Haaris batted it aside.

  “But you’ve made a terrible mistake, General. I have the president’s ear, and she agrees with me that the Messiah is an ISI creation, and that Pakistan is surely sliding toward nuclear war.”

  “Insanity.”

  “Yes, it is, only this time Pakistan has miscalculated my country’s intentions.”

  Fay struggled through the crowd, elbowing past McGarvey and Pete. “Pardon me, Mr. Prime Minister, Mr. Ambassador, but Mr. Haaris does not speak for the president.”

  Haaris turned on him. “Pakistan is no friend of the United States. And it’s time that the president understands it.”

  “If you rightly remember it was under my direction that you were rescued from the Taliban,” Rajput said.

  “More of your intrigue, General.”

  “Why in Allah’s name would I want to cause your death? You’re making no sense.”

  Haaris stepped closer. “I can guarantee you, General, that the United States will do more to your regime under this dictator you call the Messiah than simply neutralize most of your nuclear weapons. Perhaps I’ll be flying to New Delhi in the very near future.”

  The ambassador motioned to someone and almost instantly two large men in plain Wester
n business suits arrived.

  “Mr. Haaris was just leaving,” the ambassador said. “Please show him out.”

  “He was just leaving with us,” McGarvey said.

  The entire room was silent.

  “I will of course lodge a formal protest,” the ambassador told Fay.

  “I understand,” Fay said.

  “Time to go,” McGarvey prompted.

  Haaris glared at Rajput, but then turned and stalked across the room, the crowd parting for him.

  “Someone tried to kill me too, Mr. Prime Minister,” McGarvey said. “Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

  “We all have enemies.”

  “Yes, and you should keep it in mind.”

  Fay started to say something, but McGarvey nodded pleasantly. “Mr. Secretary. Gentlemen.”

  * * *

  Haaris was waiting for the valet parker to bring his car when McGarvey and Pete came out.

  “I didn’t expect to see you two here,” he said. He had a grim set to his features.

  “We were waiting for you to show up,” McGarvey said.

  “I don’t think I made Fay happy. I’ll be surprised if I keep my job.”

  “Walt Page will probably want to have a word with you first thing in the morning. He’ll need an explanation.”

  “I thought that would be obvious. I was provoking the bastard.”

  “He was your friend,” Pete said.

  “No, but I was mining him.”

  “A two-way street,” McGarvey said.

  “You know how the game is played. I’ve fed him some hand-crafted disinformation and he’s done the same for me.”

  “A zero-sum game,” Pete said. “No one wins.”

  A faint smile played at the corners of Haaris’s mouth. “Ah, but I’m smarter than he is. That’s how the game is played in the majors.”

  His S-class Mercedes arrived, and he tipped the valet and drove off.

  “The entire thing was staged,” McGarvey said.

  “How do you mean?”

  “The PM and ambassador spoke English the entire time for our benefit.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Pete had parked her car around the corner from McGarvey’s brownstone, and when they reached it she hesitated. The night was early and there was a fair amount of traffic, but nothing suspicious, just the usual weekday flow.

  “I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she said.

  She’d been quiet ever since they’d left the Pakistani embassy. “What’s the matter?”

  “The willies, I guess,” she said. “I keep looking over my shoulder expecting to see someone gaining on me.”

  “No one on our tail tonight.”

  She smiled. “I meant it metaphorically.”

  They were double-parked, and a cabby passing them honked his horn.

  “Do you want me to follow you home?”

  “Only if you’ll come up with me and spend the night,” she said. “But I have to warn you that my fridge is mostly empty, so we’d have to eat out.”

  “You can stay with me. I’ll take the couch and you can have the bed.”

  “Switch the sleeping arrangements and it’s a deal.”

  McGarvey drove around the block and found a spot two doors down from his apartment. Something of Pete’s willies had transferred to him, and he was especially careful with his tradecraft. His apartment was swept every week, but after the incident at the embassy he figured that both he and Haaris were fair game. It was exactly what he wanted. This time when someone came calling he would do everything in his power to take him alive.

  Upstairs Pete took off her cocktail dress and put on one of McGarvey’s long-sleeved shirts. While he was changing out of his tuxedo she made them bacon and eggs and toast, and opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge. They sat at the small table in the kitchen.

  “I’ve haven’t cooked for a man in a long time,” Pete said.

  “You were married, weren’t you?”

  She smiled a little. “It didn’t work out the way I thought it would. Probably because I was too much of a romantic. Still am, I suppose.” She sipped her wine. “Fairy tales. Ride off into the sunset, all of that. Just like the end of An Officer and Gentleman.”

  “Katy loved the movie too,” McGarvey said. She’d made him watch it one Sunday afternoon at their place on Casey Key. Afterward they made love, a sea breeze coming in from the Gulf. Happy times.

  “From what I know of her, I expect she did.”

  McGarvey looked away.

  Pete reached across the table and laid a hand on his. “It wasn’t your fault, Kirk. I read the file. They wanted to stop you and they were willing to do whatever it took.”

  “I understood Todd’s death. He got involved with something and they killed him for it. In the line of duty. He understood it when he held up his hand and took the oath. But Katy and our daughter were senseless. The only reason they died was because of me. Not because of something they were involved with, just me.”

  “So you’re still beating yourself up?”

  “No. I evened the score for them, but it’s happened before. Too often.”

  “And you’re afraid that I’m next?”

  “I know you are,” McGarvey said.

  “My tradecraft is pretty fair. And I’m a good shot.”

  “I know that too.”

  “You let me tag along to the embassy tonight. So what’s your point? Do you want me involved, or do you want to keep me locked up somewhere until this business is finished? I’m a field officer. If you don’t want me in this thing that’s your prerogative. But if you don’t want me to be involved with you, you’re out of luck. Fact of the matter is, I love you, and I have a feeling that if you would admit it for just a New York minute you’d realize that you were in love with me.”

  But he didn’t have a New York minute. He wouldn’t allow himself the introspection, even though he had to admit that he would have been in big trouble off Casey Key if she hadn’t taken the shot. “Not yet.”

  “You mean not this time. But you’re going to Pakistan, and if you survive there’ll be another time. And another. It’s what you do, who you are. One of the reasons I fell in love with you in the first place.”

  “Leave it be, Pete.”

  “I can’t. So now it comes down to, am I going to Pakistan with you, or am I staying here in Washington?”

  McGarvey had given that question a lot of thought over the past day or so, in part because he hadn’t entirely made up his mind to take what would be the most impossible assignment of his life, but also because he knew that he would have to give Pete an answer that made sense to her.

  “If I go, Otto will have to backstop me, and the ISI will know it. To stop me they’ll go after Louise, and Otto will have to jump in and they’ll get him too. I’ll need you here to ride shotgun for both of them.”

  Pete wanted to object, but she couldn’t and it was obvious from her expression. She nodded.

  McGarvey telephoned Otto and brought him up to date.

  “Interesting choice for PM.”

  “Dave Haaris showed up.”

  “I expected he would,” Otto said. “Was he surprised by Rajput? They worked together for the past couple of years.”

  “He didn’t seem to be; in fact he publicly accused the ISI of murdering his wife.”

  “Let me guess, he even told them that he was going to change his policy advice on Pakistan.”

  “Something like that. Anyway, the ambassador tossed him out, and John Fay made his apologies.”

  “What about you?” Otto asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not like you, Mac.”

  “I’m still figuring out how to find this Messiah, whoever the hell he is, and then get the hell out with my hide intact.”

  “Are you coming over in the morning?”

  “I’m going to stick it out here, take a run in the park, and pack a few things for Casey Key.”

 
“With a big target painted on your back.”

  * * *

  Pete took a shower first and over McGarvey’s objections made up the couch. “I’ll get out of here first thing in the morning,” she said. “I want to have a little talk with Haaris.”

  “Do you want me to drive over with you?”

  “I’m a big girl, but thanks for putting me up for the night.”

  After his shower he took a turn at the front window for a few minutes to make sure no one was out there. Pete was apparently already sleeping, because she didn’t look up. And ten minutes later he was just drifting off, when she came to the bedroom door.

  “It’s me,” she said softly, as he automatically reached for the pistol on the nightstand.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m not sleeping alone tonight,” she said. She took off the shirt and slipped into bed with him. “Don’t send me away.”

  She came into his arms, and her softness, her breasts, the feel of her legs against his, her breath on his face as she kissed him, were as good as he’d imagined they would be. And they made love, slowly, elegantly, even though he could feel the same urgency in her as he felt in himself. And in the end he almost lost his fear for her life.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Pete got up shortly before dawn and after she got dressed she went back into the bedroom, where McGarvey was lying awake. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she said. She’d not slept well the entire night, worrying about him going into badland.

  “I’m usually up by now.”

  “Not at five in the morning, liar.”

  “Do you want me to follow you back to your place?”

  “No, but I’m going to borrow one of your guns, just in case. I want to get to the Campus before Dave Haaris does.”

  McGarvey sat up and handed her the Walther he usually kept by his bedside. “Watch the corners.”

  “Yeah,” she said, stuffing the small pistol into her purse. She bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for last night, Kirk.”

  “It was a two-way street,” he said. “Why the hurry to talk to Haaris this morning?”

  “I want to know why a man like him is so eager to get back to work even before his wife is in the ground.” The instant the words left her lips she realized what she had just said and to whom she had said them. “Oh, Christ, I’m sorry.”