Read Online The Scorpio Illusion by Robert Ludlum - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Ludlum
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old geezer out of G-2, Vietnam, where things were really screwed up, so messy that I emerged with a terrific reputation that I didn’t deserve—to the contrary, I probably should have been court-martialed. So I know where you’re coming from, Captain, which doesn’t excuse you
or
me, but I think you should know the truth.”
“If you felt that way, why did you take this job?”
“You called me a civilian, and you’re right on the mark, a very rich civilian. I made a great deal of money, in part due to that undeserved reputation, so when I was tapped for this job, I decided it was payback time. I’d like to try to make things a little better in this very necessary area of the government … to make up for past mistakes, maybe.”
“Considering your mistakes, what made you think you’re qualified?”
“Because of those mistakes. We’re so panic-prone over secrets, we all too frequently fail to communicate essentials—or seek them out. For instance, I don’t think you’ll repeat the error of Ingrid Hawthorne.”
“It wasn’t my error! You just said it: She wasn’t logged in the system!”
“Neither are eighty to a hundred others, what do you think of that?”
“I think it smells!”
“Including several dozen assets of your own.”
“That was before I came on board,” said the naval officer curtly. “A system doesn’t work if it’s disregarded. There are fail-safe procedures in those computers.”
“Don’t tell that to the hackers who broke into the Pentagon machines. They might not believe you.”
“One in a million chances!”
“Roughly the same as a specific sperm fertilizing an egg, yet nine months later a life is there. And you took one of those lives, Captain.”
“Goddamn you—”
“Spare me,” said the CIA director, holding up his hands, his elbows on the arms of the chair. “That information remains in the confines of this room. For your edification, I made a similar mistake on the Ho Chi Minh trail—and that, too, will remain in this room.”
“Are we finished?”
“Not yet. I can’t order you, but I’d suggest you reach Hawthorne and give him whatever oceangoing help he needs. You’re all over the Caribbean, and we’re stretched thin down there.”
“He won’t talk to me,” said the captain slowly, quietly. “I tried several times. As soon as he realized who it was, he hung up without a word.”
“He’s talked to someone on your staff, MI-6 confirmed it. He told their man, Cooke, in Virgin Gorda,that Hawthorne knew about the Bajaratt woman, that the Oval Office was under max-security, the President in a jacket. If you didn’t tell him, who did?”
“I put it up for grabs,” replied Stevens reluctantly. “After I couldn’t get anywhere with that bastard, I told a few men who knew him that if anyone felt he could make any progress with him, to go ahead and give Tye the scenario.”
“Tye?”
“We knew each other, not well, but we’d have drinks now and then. My wife worked at the embassy in Amsterdam; they were friends.”
“He suspected you in his wife’s murder?”
“Hell, I showed him the photographs but swore we had nothing to do with her death—which actually we didn’t.”
“But you did.”
“There’s no way he could have known that; besides, the Soviets left their mark as a warning to others.”
“But we all develop instincts, don’t we?”
“What do you want from me, Mr. Director? I’m out of conversation.”
“Since the British recruited him, hold an immediate staff meeting and figure out what you can do to help.” The DCI leaned over his desk and wrote on a memo pad. “Coordinate with MI-6 and the Deuxième; here are the two men you should contact, and only them and only on scrambler.” The director held out the paper.
“Right to the top,” remarked the officer from naval intelligence, reading the names. “What’s the code?”
“Little Girl Blood. That’s when you go on scrambler.”
“You know,”
or
me, but I think you should know the truth.”
“If you felt that way, why did you take this job?”
“You called me a civilian, and you’re right on the mark, a very rich civilian. I made a great deal of money, in part due to that undeserved reputation, so when I was tapped for this job, I decided it was payback time. I’d like to try to make things a little better in this very necessary area of the government … to make up for past mistakes, maybe.”
“Considering your mistakes, what made you think you’re qualified?”
“Because of those mistakes. We’re so panic-prone over secrets, we all too frequently fail to communicate essentials—or seek them out. For instance, I don’t think you’ll repeat the error of Ingrid Hawthorne.”
“It wasn’t my error! You just said it: She wasn’t logged in the system!”
“Neither are eighty to a hundred others, what do you think of that?”
“I think it smells!”
“Including several dozen assets of your own.”
“That was before I came on board,” said the naval officer curtly. “A system doesn’t work if it’s disregarded. There are fail-safe procedures in those computers.”
“Don’t tell that to the hackers who broke into the Pentagon machines. They might not believe you.”
“One in a million chances!”
“Roughly the same as a specific sperm fertilizing an egg, yet nine months later a life is there. And you took one of those lives, Captain.”
“Goddamn you—”
“Spare me,” said the CIA director, holding up his hands, his elbows on the arms of the chair. “That information remains in the confines of this room. For your edification, I made a similar mistake on the Ho Chi Minh trail—and that, too, will remain in this room.”
“Are we finished?”
“Not yet. I can’t order you, but I’d suggest you reach Hawthorne and give him whatever oceangoing help he needs. You’re all over the Caribbean, and we’re stretched thin down there.”
“He won’t talk to me,” said the captain slowly, quietly. “I tried several times. As soon as he realized who it was, he hung up without a word.”
“He’s talked to someone on your staff, MI-6 confirmed it. He told their man, Cooke, in Virgin Gorda,that Hawthorne knew about the Bajaratt woman, that the Oval Office was under max-security, the President in a jacket. If you didn’t tell him, who did?”
“I put it up for grabs,” replied Stevens reluctantly. “After I couldn’t get anywhere with that bastard, I told a few men who knew him that if anyone felt he could make any progress with him, to go ahead and give Tye the scenario.”
“Tye?”
“We knew each other, not well, but we’d have drinks now and then. My wife worked at the embassy in Amsterdam; they were friends.”
“He suspected you in his wife’s murder?”
“Hell, I showed him the photographs but swore we had nothing to do with her death—which actually we didn’t.”
“But you did.”
“There’s no way he could have known that; besides, the Soviets left their mark as a warning to others.”
“But we all develop instincts, don’t we?”
“What do you want from me, Mr. Director? I’m out of conversation.”
“Since the British recruited him, hold an immediate staff meeting and figure out what you can do to help.” The DCI leaned over his desk and wrote on a memo pad. “Coordinate with MI-6 and the Deuxième; here are the two men you should contact, and only them and only on scrambler.” The director held out the paper.
“Right to the top,” remarked the officer from naval intelligence, reading the names. “What’s the code?”
“Little Girl Blood. That’s when you go on scrambler.”
“You know,”
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