Page 63 of Exit Strategy
Kasselwood said, ‘How?’
‘I’m Military Intelligence. Retired.’
‘Oh. Well, that’ll do it, I guess.’ She turned back to Reacher. ‘And you?’
‘Military Police. Also retired.’
‘Well then. You’re not bozos after all. Maybe we have a chance of making this work.’
THIRTY-FIVE
Morgan Strickland lay on his back and focused on his breathing. He visualized calming scenes, the way he had been taught in the hospital years before. He kept it up for twenty-five minutes – which felt like it was going to kill him – until finally there was a knock at his office door. He stood up. He straightened his shirt, moved to the other side of his desk, and called, ‘Come in.’
The door opened and a woman stumbled into the room. She was stiff and apprehensive and had clearly been pushed forward by someone who was still in the corridor.
Strickland came out from behind his desk. He glanced at the woman, said, ‘Excuse me for one minute,’ and stepped past her and out the door.
A man was standing in the corridor. He was the one who’d driven the van to and from the port and had calledStrickland with his report. Strickland said, ‘The man we lost. You brought his body home?’
The guy swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed high in his throat. He took a breath, then said, ‘That wasn’t possible, sir. I had to leave him at the scene.’
Strickland clenched his fist and said, ‘Wasn’t possible?’
‘There was no alternative, sir. I was under fire. Sustained fire. If I had stayed, even for another minute, I would have been unable to guarantee my mission objective, which was the safe extraction of Violeta Vardanyan.’
A goofy expression spread across the guy’s face. Strickland wondered if it was his idea of confidence. Or determination. Strickland thought it made him look like a clown. He certainly spoke like one.Guarantee his objective?There was no guarantee the guy could find his own ass with a flashlight and a mirror, Strickland thought. He wanted to slap the stupid look off his face. He wanted to see him in a body bag. He wanted … He forced himself to calm down. It wasn’t the guy’s fault he was second-rate and all the competent operators were already deployed. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know the bigger picture, or how much money he had wasted that morning. Strickland made a mental note to prepare a story for the police when they found the body. He’d have to throw the dead guy under the bus, of course. Claim he was part of some unrelated conspiracy. That would be tough on the guy’s reputation. Hard for his family to swallow. But that was too bad. It was the cost of failure.
Strickland turned back to the guy and said, ‘Let me see if I have this straight. Kathryn Kasselwood had youpinned down under sustained fire. Both of you. One woman.’
The guy shook his head. He said, ‘No, sir. Kasselwood was already down. Two other guys were firing. She must have brought hired help.’
‘Kasselwood was down? Are you sure?’
‘I saw her go down.’
‘Down, as in dead?’
‘There’s no doubt about it, sir. Tim put a round – a couple of rounds – into her and was recovering her body when these other two guys appeared.’
Strickland allowed himself a tiny smile. If Kasselwood was dead, that meant a major thorn was gone from his side. He reached out and slapped the guy on the shoulder, and said, ‘All right, then. Good job. You’re dismissed.’
Violeta Vardanyan was standing in the center of his office when Strickland walked back in. She was staring straight ahead at the blank wall. Her face was expressionless, like a mannequin’s. Strickland was relieved she was there. He was glad the original schedule had held after all. The extra day before the meeting with Mark Hewson could be invaluable if there were any issues to iron out, and so far, Vardanyan didn’t seem very cooperative. Not at all like she’d been the last time they’d met, near the border between Turkey and Armenia. He wondered what kind of poison Kathryn Kasselwood had been pouring in her ear. He studied Vardanyan’s face, searching for a clue as to what she was thinking, but came up dry.
Strickland forced a smile onto his face, walked around to his side of the desk, and sat down. He said, ‘Violeta, I’m sorry for the unconventional mode of transport andthe drama at the port. I’m glad you made it through safe and sound. And now that you’re here, I’ll make sure you have everything you need for as long as you’re my guest.’
Vardanyan didn’t reply. Her gaze didn’t shift from the wall.
‘I’ll make sure you’re well looked after, but I do need something in return. Two things, in fact. First, I want you to sit down with another important visitor. Mr Hewson, who works at the Pentagon. He has the power to sign off on our operation but he’ll only do that if he believes your story. I need you to tell him the same things you already told me about the separatists helping Iran. Exactly the same things. And after that, I need you to make another video. We don’t have to do that right away, though. You’ll have a day or two to learn the script, like last time.’
Vardanyan remained silent. She didn’t move a hair.
Strickland said, ‘Do we have a problem, Violeta?’
Vardanyan looked at him and said, ‘I don’t have a problem. You do. Because I’m not your puppet any longer. I won’t do either of those things.’
Strickland took a breath. ‘Think about what you’re saying. Words likewon’t? They’re not very helpful. The answer I’m looking for is,Yes. Of course I’ll do those two simple things for you in return for all the money you’ve paid me.’
‘If you want a ventriloquist’s dummy, get someone else.’
