The Kill Zone Page 13

  “I just came in for a quick look. I thought the interview was supposed to start at ten.”

  “It did,” one of the assistant psychiatrists answered. “They’ve been at it ever since.” He shrugged. “For all the good it’s doing us.”

  “Isn’t he cooperating?”

  “Oh, he’s cooperating all right, Mr. Director. Trouble is we can’t make any sense out of what he’s telling us.”

  Dr. Stenzel sat back and lit a cigarette. His jacket was off, his tie loose, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows. He and Otto sat across from each other in easy chairs, a large coffee table strewn with files, computer printouts and coffee cups between them. They were in Stenzel’s office, a large book-lined room with a big window.

  Otto was sitting back, his legs crossed, his Nikes untied, a dark, but mildly condescending expression on his face. McGarvey had a momentary doubt that the man with Stenzel was Otto Rencke. Yet it was Otto. He knew it was Otto.

  “So, you’ve been fucking with me all day,” Stenzel said. “What else did I expect?” He didn’t seem bitter, just resigned.

  Rencke shrugged.

  “There are a lot of people in this building who are worried about you. Mr. McGarvey asked me to find out what’s going on in your head. But it looks as if that’s not going to be possible. Leastways not today.”

  “Do you want me to take another test?” Rencke’s voice was flat, with only the vaguest hint of contempt.

  “You’ve taken them all.” Stenzel glanced at the papers on the coffee table. “I suppose that I could certify that you’re unfit for service. But hell, you’re probably just as sane, or insane, as the rest of us here.”

  “We all have our crosses to bear, Stenzel. Even me. Only I have a lot of work to do.”

  “So do I,” Stenzel said. “But if you go off the deep end on us, you could do a lot of damage.”

  Rencke laughed. “If you mean to the Company’s computers, you’re right. But I wouldn’t have to be here in the building to do it.”

  “The one thing that’s clear in the mess that you’ve created for me is that you’re depressed. Whether it’s clinical depression or just the garden-variety blues, I can’t tell. But I’ll give you a piece of advice, the only advice I intend giving you. Keep up whatever it is that you’re doing and you will have a nervous breakdown. Guaranteed.”

  Stenzel got up, rolled down his sleeves, snugged up his tie and put on his jacket.

  Rencke got languidly to his feet. “What are you going to tell Mac?”

  “The same thing I told you. That, and the fact I don’t like being toyed with. You’re a very bright man, but from where I sit I don’t see anyone who is very nice. In fact, you’re an asshole.” Stenzel smiled and shook his head. “Now get out of here, please.”

  Rencke stared at the doctor for a long beat; hesitating as if he wanted to say something. But then he turned and left.

  McGarvey knocked once and went into Stenzel’s office. The psychiatrist glanced over McGarvey’s shoulder to the open door into the observation room.

  “How long were you watching?”

  “Long enough to wonder who the hell you were talking to. That wasn’t Otto Rencke. Or at least not the Otto Rencke I know. I thought I was watching a complete stranger.”

  “Unless he faked his eye prints he was the real McCoy,” Stenzel said. “And not very nice. But I suppose nobody likes a company shrink poking into his head. Their jobs are usually on the line. You’d be amazed at some of the stories I’ve heard.”

  One of his assistants came to the door. “Do you want an inventory made up?”

  “Don’t bother,” Dr. Stenzel said.

  “We’ll append our notes to the file.”

  Stenzel motioned McGarvey to have a seat, and he went around behind his desk and looked out the window. “I administered every test that I knew. MMPI, Rorschach, TAT, Edwards Personal Preference, Cattell, the works.” He shook his head. “They were loaded with all the control keys. No way that he could have defeated them.” Stenzel turned to face McGarvey. “And in the end I couldn’t have told you for sure that Rencke wasn’t, in fact, a ten-year-old black girl with schizophrenia, or a sexless alien from Antares.”

  “You said that he was depressed.”

  “That came out loud and clear, especially in the TAT.”

  McGarvey raised an eyebrow.

  “Thematic Apperception Test. It’s a series of twenty pictures showing ambiguous scenes. Like a man coming into what might be an old-fashioned sitting room or living room, with an odd look on his face. We ask the subject to tell us what he sees. Like what led up to the event in the picture. Or, what’s happening, and how does the man feel, and what’s going to happen in the end.

  “Picking out Rencke’s depression from his answers was fairly straightforward. But the test is usually invalid if the subject has no respect for the test or the person administering it.”

  “He had a tough childhood,” McGarvey said.

  “I’ll bet he did,” Dr. Stenzel replied. “I tried to work out a Maslow Hierarchy to see where he was going wrong, but even that didn’t work out.”

  “What’s that?”

  “About fifty years ago a shrink named Maslow figured out that people have five basic needs, starting with the physical stuff, like food and clothing and shelter. Without those nothing else is possible.

  “Next up the chart is security, which is our safety margin. We do whatever it takes to make sure that next week, next month or next year we’ll have everything we need to maintain our physical needs. So we buy food and put it in the fridge; we save money; we try not to piss off someone who’ll someday come back at us with a gun.

  “After that is love, then respect, and finally what we call self-actualization. We want to be the best we can, self-improvement. Going to bed at night and being able to think that we’re okay, that we’re not doing so badly.”

  “What about Otto?”

  “Well, for one he has some serious security issues. It’s the same with DO people out in the field. They don’t know when they’ll be burned. Maybe they’ll get shot, maybe they’ll be imprisoned. Tortured. It’s why they have a problem with divorce; love is next up on the scale.”

  “Should I force him to take a leave?” McGarvey asked. “We need him here, but if he’s on the verge of exploding, it wouldn’t do anybody any good to keep him. The man you talked to today was not the real Otto Rencke.”

  “Yeah, I know. I think he has another even bigger problem he’s trying to deal with,” Stenzel said. “He’s hiding something, maybe even from himself.”

  “What is it?”

  Stenzel spread his hands. “I don’t know. But whatever it is could be tearing him apart worse than his depression. It’s certainly feeding into his mood swings.” Stenzel shook his head. “He’s in denial, I caught that from the test, too. But beyond that it’s anybody’s guess. Leave him in place, and he might do fine. On the other hand, if you pull him away from his job, you’ll be interfering with his esteem needs. Self-respect.”

  “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Director, but it’s the best I can do without his cooperation,” Stenzel said. “The ball’s back in your court.”

  TWELVE

  … SOMETHING WAS COMING. GAINING ON THEM. SKULKING IN THE NIGHT. WAITING TO POUNCE.

  CHEVY CHASE

  McGarvey got home a few minutes after seven. Something that he had forgotten to do; something that had nagged at him all afternoon, even during his swim with Yemm and laps around the gym, came to him the instant he opened the door and smelled something good from the kitchen. He had forgotten to let Katy know that Liz and Todd were coming over for dinner.

  The workmen were almost finished with his study already. Only some trim pieces had to be installed, along with the track lighting and carpeting. He put his briefcase on his desk, hung up his coat in the hall closet and went into the kitchen. She had a brandy waiting for him. The dining room table was set
for four.

  “Liz must have called,” McGarvey said, giving his wife a kiss.

  “Good thing she did; otherwise, you and Todd would have been taking us out to dinner.” Kathleen gave him a warm smile. “How did it go today?”

  “They didn’t quite shoot at me, but it was close.”

  “Posturing peacocks,” she said. “Hammond and Madden, preening for each other. I wonder if they’re sleeping together?”

  McGarvey had to laugh. “Good thing you weren’t up there with me. There probably would have been gunfire.”

  “You have just enough time to shower and change clothes before the children arrive. I told them to come early because of the weather.”

  “Did Elizabeth tell you that they were going skiing in Vail this weekend?”

  Kathleen gave him a sharp look. “No,” she said tightly. “Go change.”

  McGarvey took his drink, but stopped at the hall door. “We’ll have to cancel the party this weekend.”

  “It’s already been taken care of. And I’ll finish packing in the morning.” She gave him another warm smile. “Close your mouth, sweetheart. Your secretary called me.”

  “I thought we needed to get away.”

  “I know. But what about Otto? Is he back at work?”

  “I sent him home for a couple of days. I think he might fall apart if we push him.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, I talked to Louise this morning. She was worried about getting Otto to see Dr. Stenzel. I had her put him on and explained to him that this was for his own good. He should grow up and get on with life.” Kathleen pursed her lips. “He’s needed someone like Louise for a long time. I’m glad he finally has her.”

  McGarvey studied his wife for several beats. She was an amazing woman. And she had changed again from earlier this week, and from last night. She was calmer, even serene; more like the old Kathleen; self-assured, happy, content. He didn’t know if her anxiety had simply worn away of its own accord, or if it was because they were getting away for the weekend. Either way he was happy for her, and more than a little relieved.

  “What?” she asked self-consciously.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  This time she smiled with her eyes. “Thank you.”

  McGarvey left the kitchen and went upstairs.

  He finished his brandy, then took a shower and changed into a pair of khakis and a comfortable old flannel shirt. It was snowing lightly. Since Sunday the Washington-Baltimore area had received more than thirteen inches; probably a record, McGarvey figured. Some schools in the outlying districts had been closed yesterday, although downtown and all the way out to the Beltway, plows were keeping up with the snowfall for now. Playing in the snow while on vacation was entirely different from having to go to work in it every day. He was ready for the Caribbean.

  When he got downstairs Katy and Liz were going into his study. His daughter stopped to give her father a peck on the cheek.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she greeted him brightly. At twenty-five she looked just like her mother had at that age: she was slender, with a pretty, oval face, high, round cheekbones, sparkling green eyes and medium blond hair that always looked a little tousled. Ordinarily her figure was boyish, but she had blossomed with her pregnancy. Her figure was fuller now, though unless you knew her well it would be difficult to tell that she was more than four months along.

  McGarvey thought that she’d never looked more beautiful. In fact, in his estimation, all pregnant women were stunning. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

  “Fat, grouchy and mean,” she replied. She nodded toward the kitchen. “Go in and have a beer with Todd, would you? Convince him that I don’t hate him. Mom and I have to talk.”

  Kathleen gave him a look that nothing was wrong. Girl talk. Men need not be present.

  He smiled. “Will he believe me?”

  “He’d better, or I’ll pop him.”

  “Dinner’s in a half hour,” Kathleen told him, and she and Elizabeth went into the study and closed the door.

  Todd had a beer. He was perched on the fireplace hearth in the family room, a glum expression on his broad, pleasant face. McGarvey got a beer and joined him.

  “She told me to tell you that she doesn’t really hate you.”

  Todd looked up and shook his head ruefully. “One minute she’s as sweet as Mother Teresa, and the next she’s as mean as a junkyard dog.” He was broad-shouldered and solidly built, like an athlete. When he got older he would probably be chunky, but for now he was formidable. His eyes were as bright a blue as Liz’s were green. McGarvey couldn’t wait to see what color the baby’s eyes would be.

  “Besides being mean, what’s her latest project?”

  “Just before we came over here tonight, she tried to move the refrigerator because she was convinced that there were bugs and mice nesting in the dirt behind it.”

  “If it’s any consolation, her mother did the same thing,” he assured his son-in-law. “Has she said anything else about the conspiracy theory that she and Otto were working on?”

  “That was before the accident. She’s into her superclean and superfit mode now. By the time we leave for Vail tomorrow, the apartment will be spotless, and she’ll be itching to ski me into the ground.”

  “Her doctor said that’s okay?”

  “I talked to him myself. He wants her to stay off the black diamond runs. No booze and lots of rest. But he told her that this would be her last fling. Starting Monday she can’t even go back to the Farm.”

  “Take it a little easy on her, Todd. And I’m not saying that just because she’s my daughter,” McGarvey advised. “Right now she feels fat, ugly and useless.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You need to assure her that in your eyes she’s beautiful, that you still love her, and that you won’t abandon her.”

  “She knows better—” Todd protested, but McGarvey held him off.

  “Doesn’t matter what you think she knows. It’s what she wants to hear. What every woman going to have a baby wants to hear. That her partner is going to be there for her, no matter what.”

  “She’s so goddammed stubborn.”

  “And you aren’t?”

  Todd flared, but then grinned ruefully. “If she could just relax once in a while.”

  “Is the honeymoon over?”

  “I don’t know if it ever began.”

  McGarvey knew that they argued, but this sounded like trouble. They were practically clones of each other, but they couldn’t see it.

  “Maybe you should get a divorce,” McGarvey suggested.

  Todd’s grip tightened on the beer bottle. “That’s not an option,” he answered.

  “Then do something about the situation.”

  “What?”

  “Either roll over and play dead, or finesse her.”

  Todd shook his head. “She’d hate me either way.”

  McGarvey almost hated maneuvering his son-in-law so blatantly. But not quite. “Do you love her?”

  “What?” Todd sputtered. “Of course I do.”

  “Then you have the magic bullet. Whenever she gives you some shit, tell her that you love her. It’ll stop her in her tracks every time, provided she can see that you mean it.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  McGarvey nodded. “But it won’t work unless you ease up on her, too.”

  Todd looked away. “I’ll try anything.”

  “That’s good,” McGarvey said.

  He turned around as Elizabeth and her mother came in. Katy had a glass of white wine, and Liz was drinking what looked like a plain soda water on the rocks with a twist.

  “Just in time. We’re starving,” he said.

  “If Todd missed a meal now and then, it wouldn’t hurt him,” Liz said crossly.

  Todd pursed his lips and nodded. “You’re right. You’re beautiful, Liz. I love you.”

  Elizabeth started to make a sharp retort, but som
ething in his eyes got to her. She softened and grinned at her father. “If you’re his chief adviser, keep it up.” She looked at her husband. “Flattery will get you anything you want.”

  He brightened. “Anything?”

  Elizabeth glanced at her parents. “Well, you might have to wait until later for some things.”

  The moment remained in tableau, Todd and Elizabeth grinning at each other, until Kathleen motioned for Kirk to go out to the kitchen with her. She had him take the roast out of the oven and put it on the carving board.

  “Ten minutes and you can start cutting it,” she told him. She glanced toward the family room. “Something’s wrong with her. She’s hiding something.”

  McGarvey nodded. “I think it has something to do with work.”

  “This is starting to get ridiculous, Kirk,” she said sharply. “She’s pregnant. She has no business working in the field. She’s your daughter, fire her.”

  “Do you think she’d stand still for it if I tried?”

  “It would put her nose out of joint, but I’d rather see that than have something happen to her or the baby.” Kathleen gripped McGarvey’s arm. “Dave Whittaker can do it. You can make him understand.”

  “I can pull her from Williamsburg and put her on the Russian desk, but I’d have to give her and her section heads a good reason.”

  “She’s pregnant, for God’s sake.”

  “She’s not in the field, she’s not running the Course at the Farm, no combat sims, nothing but lectures and paperwork.”

  Kathleen gave her husband a critical look. “There’s even more. You’re hiding something, too. I can see it in your eyes.”

  McGarvey nodded. “She and Otto are working on something. All he tells me is that Liz is looking through some of my old files, maybe to do an in-house biography. She may have seen the file on my parents, including the accident pictures.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “Do you see what I mean?”

  McGarvey was confused. “No, I don’t.”

  “Otto and Elizabeth are working on something together. And now you’re sending Otto home because he’s falling apart.” She spread her hands. “Do you think that it’s a coincidence that our daughter is lying to us?”