Read Online Mission of Honor by Tom Clancy, Steve Pieczenik, Jeff Rovin - Free Book Online Page B

Kline resigned from the group in 1987, when he discovered that SASS resources were being used to spy on antiapartheid advocates working abroad. The operative was a devout Catholic who did not approve of apartheid or any exclusionary form of government. Kline moved to Rome and joined the Vatican Security Organization, where Herbert lost touch with him. He was a good man and a solid professional. But he had also been a very difficult man to read. He told you only what he wanted you to know. As long as you were on his side, that was fine. He never left your ass exposed.
    Herbert wheeled himself behind the desk and grabbed the phone. “Gunther Center for World Studies,” Herbert said.
    “Robert?” said the caller.
    “Yeah, this is Robert,” Herbert replied. “Is this really the Master of Ceremonies?”
    “It is,” said the caller.
    MC had been Edgar Kline’s code name. The CIA had assigned it to him when the then-twenty-three-year-old operative worked the coast along the Mozambique Channel. Kline used it whenever he called the Gunther Center for World Studies. That was a small office Herbert had set up to process intelligence information. Herbert had named it after John Gunther, the author of Inside Africa and other books that Herbert had read as a young man.
    “You know, I’ve always said the best way to start a day is saying good-bye to a new friend,” Herbert said. “Preferably of the opposite sex. But the best way to end a day is definitely saying hello to an old one. How the hell are you?”
    “Very well,” Kline told him. “What about you?”
    There was no mistaking Edgar Kline for anyone else working in intelligence. His voice was still thick with its Afrikaans inflection. It was a unique accent, a hybrid of the English and Dutch that comprised Kline’s Afrikaner heritage.
    “I’m still cleaning up after the yakety-yak diplomats,” Herbert replied. “Where are you calling from?”
    “At the moment, from a commercial airliner en route to Washington,” Kline told him.
    “No shit!” Herbert said. “Does that mean I’m going to get to see you?”
    “Actually, while I realize this is rather short notice, I was wondering if you might be free for supper.”
    ‘Tonight?”
    “Yes,” Kline said.
    “If I weren’t, I would make myself free,” Herbert said.
    “Excellent,” Kline said. “I’m sorry about this being so last minute, but it’s been difficult to make plans.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Herbert assured him. “Tell me. Are you still with the same group?”
    Herbert had to be careful what he said. Kline had made a point of informing him that he was on board a commercial aircraft. That meant the phone line was not secure.
    “Very much so,” Kline answered. “And obviously, so are you.”
    “Yeah, I love it here,” Herbert informed him. “They’ll have to blast me out of this place, too.”
    There was a short, pained moan on the other end. “I can’t believe you said that, Robert,” Kline told him.
    “Why not?” Herbert asked. “That’s how they got me out of the Central Intelligence Agency.”
    “I know. But still,” Kline replied.
    “You’ve spent too much time with the wrong people,” Herbert teased. “If you don’t laugh at yourself, the only option is to cry. So where do you want to meet?”
    “I’m staying at the Watergate,” Kline told him. “I should be there about eight o’clock.”
    “Fine. I’ll meet you at the bar,” Herbert said. “Sounds like we need to put some hair back on your cheek.”
    “Would you mind meeting me in my room?” Kline asked. The South African’s tone was suddenly more serious.
    “Okay, sure,” Herbert said.
    “I’ll be in the same room I had back on February 22 of ‘84,” Kline told him. “You remember which one that was?”
    “I do,” Herbert told him. “You’re getting nostalgic.”
    “Very,” Kline said. “We’ll order room service.”
    “Fine, as long as you’re picking up the check,” Herbert