The Scorpio Illusion Part 48

"For Christs sake, speak Englis.h.!.+"

"Do you know, or have you ever known, or recently been in contact with, or been apprised of a Central Intelligence a.n.a.lyst by the name of Patrick Timothy ORyan?"

Tyrell paused, then answered quietly. "Never heard of him. So?"

"His body was found by a Chesapeake oyster boat, entangled in one of its nets, Im told, about an hour ago. I thought Id call you first before disturbing the captain."

"Where did you get the report from?"

"The Chesapeake C.G.-thats the coast guard, sir."

"Are the local police informed?"

"Not as yet, sir. When this kind of thing happens, like when that navy commander was shot in a rowboat ten or twelve years ago, we try to restrict it temporarily just to us, with nothing touched-"

"Thats enough, Lieutenant, I understand. Keep it all secure until I get there. Where are you?"

"At the River Bend Marina, about two miles south of Chesapeake Beach. Im heading out there now, sir. Should I call Captain Stevens?"

"No way, Lieutenant. Let the man sleep. Well take it from here."

"Thank you, sir. He can get real mad."

Hawthorne swung out of the bed as Poole, already on his feet and across the room, turned on the lights. "Here we go, Jackson," said Tyrell. "This is a breakthrough, a real one."

"How do you figure?"

"I said I didnt know a dead man named ORyan, and I dont personally, but I know hes just about the best son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h a.n.a.lyst the Agency ever had.... He also floated through Amsterdam six or seven years ago on one of those silent CIA evaluation exercises, looking to find fault with military input. Fellows like me avoided him as though he had the plague."

"So whats the relevance?"

"He was the best, and Bajaratt uses only the best until he or she doesnt serve her any longer. Then she discards them, kills them to cut off any connection."

"Thats wild, Tye. Youre really reachin."

"Maybe, Jackson, but I feel it, I sense it-he must have been the primary leak. Its all I have to go by."

"Thats pretty awesome, Commander. Youre talkin the top of our secret intelligence charts."

"I know, Lieutenant. Wake up the major."

On a tree-lined street in upper-cla.s.s Montgomery County, Maryland, a low hum persisted on the telephone beside Senator Paul Seebanks bed. It was so muted, it could not be heard by his wife, who slept beside him, a cellolike sound that awoke only the person next to the instrument. Seebank opened his eyes, reached over, and pressed the redial b.u.t.ton, terminating the hum, then quietly, slowly, got out of bed and went downstairs to his book-lined study. He repressed the lighted redial b.u.t.ton, inserted the code for reception, and heard the following words in a flat British monotone.

There is a problem with our a.s.sociates as our lines are no longer operative. You will receive all calls. a.s.sume all authority.

Senator Paul Seebank, one of the leaders of that august legislative body, with trembling fingers pressed the appropriate numbers that gave him access to the Providers clandestine personnel. He was Scorpio Four, now for all intents and purposes, the first of the Scorpions.

The senator froze in his chair, his face chalk-white, the blood drained. He could not ever remember when he had been more terrified.

24.

The corpse tangled in the fis.h.i.+ng net was chalk-white and rigid, the flesh swollen, blown up by the intake of water, the face a balloon version of its former features. On the dock, under the glare of the single floodlight, were the personal effects that had been removed by the coast guard patrol from the deceaseds pockets.

"Thats all there was, Commander," John Allen, the naval intelligence officer, said. "Nothing else was disturbed, and p.r.o.ngs were used to extract the materials. As you can see, hes CIA, top security, maximum clearance, and very dead. The doctor here, whos done only a preliminary forensic, says he believes death occurred when ORyans head was smashed by a solid object or came in contact with multiple solid objects. He tells us that an autopsy might reveal more, but he doubts it."

"Good work, Lieutenant," said Hawthorne. Poole and Catherine Neilsen were at his side, both mesmerized by the ugly sight below them. "Remove the body and proceed with the autopsy."

"Could I ask a question?" said Poole.

"Im amazed youve been silent so long," replied Tyrell. "What is it?"

"Well, ahm jest a country boy-"

"Cut the bulls.h.i.+t," interrupted Cathy quietly, looking away from the dead, swollen body. "Ask."

"Well, in Loosiana we got offshoots from the Pont-chartrain goin all over the place-backwaters, we call em. Does this here Chesapeake flow like normal, north to south?"

"I a.s.sume so," said Allen.

"Sure does," added a bearded fisherman, overhearing the conversation while disentangling the dead body. "What the h.e.l.l else is there?"

"Well, the river Nile doesnt subscribe to that, sir. She goes-"

"Forget it," broke in Hawthorne. "Whats your question?"

"Well, a.s.sumin that the flow is north to south, and 'solid objects were involved, are there any backwater dams north of here?"

"What do you mean, Jackson?" asked Cathy, turning around, aware that her subordinate officer did not pose foolish questions.

"Take a look, Major-"

"Id rather not, Lieutenant."

"Whats your point, Poole?" said Tyrell.

"That mans head has been bashed in more than one location-I mean, take a look, the swellin and all. That aint one 'solid object, but a whole bunch of em. That old boy got smashed in all directions. You got backwater stoppages here?"

"Breakwalls," said the bearded fisherman, his hands on the net, his eyes on Poole. "Up and down the 'Peake, sos the rich people can swim in front of their houses."

"Wheres the nearest, sir?"

"This aint prime real estate down here, buddy," answered the fisherman. "I suppose you could figure the jetty north of Chesapeake Beach. The kids hang out there a lot, yknow."

"Its my turn to say it, Tye. Lets go."

Bajaratt controlled her impatience. "Cant you drive faster?" she coolly asked the chauffeur of her hotel-appropriated limousine.

"If I do, maam, well be stopped by the police and it will take longer."

"Just hurry, please."

"Im doing the best I can, maam."

The Baj sat back in the seat, detonations going off in her mind. She could not lose Nicolo, he was the key! She had planned it all so carefully, so brilliantly, every step orchestrated, every move and nuance calculated-she was only days away from the ultimate kill of her life, prelude to chaos across the world. Muerte a toda autoridad!

She had to be gentle, concerned, convincing. Once the dock boy got her into the White House, into the Presidents office itself, then out, she could dispose of the barone-cadetto at will. He certainly could not be permitted to live more than a few minutes after the news of the Presidents a.s.sa.s.sination was heard around the globe.

Until then, she would feign near hysteria over Nicos well-being, swear on the graves of the saints to force those responsible to pay for their hideous crime, make love to the young Adonis in ways he had never dreamed of-oh, G.o.d, anything! He had to become once more her marionette as quickly as possible. The appointment in the Oval Office was too close. This ride was taking forever!

"Were in Chesapeake Beach, maam, the diners over there on the left," the uniformed chauffeur announced. "May I escort you inside?"

"You go inside, please," said the Baj. "My friend will come to me privately. I may need a blanket; do you have one?"

"Right behind you, madam, between the lamps. There are two lap rugs."

"Thank you. Now leave me."

"Yes, Captain Stevens, I did, sir," said a subdued Lieutenant Allen over the car telephone in the naval intelligence vehicle. "The commander was explicit, sir. He ordered me not to disturb you-honest."

"Hes not a commander and he cant give you orders!" Stevens shouted over his bedside telephone. "Where the h.e.l.l is he?"

"They mentioned something about a jetty in Chesapeake Beach-"

"The same place where ORyan lives?"

"I believe so, sir."

"Have the ORyans been notified?"

"Absolutely not, sir. The commander-"

"Hes not a commander!"

"Well, his instructions were to keep everything secure, and thats consistent with our policy in these matters. We agreed upon that. On a temporary basis, of course."

"Of course," sighed the resigned Henry Stevens. "Ill inform the DCI right away; he can handle that part. And then you go find that son of a b.i.t.c.h and make d.a.m.n sure he calls me immediately!"

"Excuse me, sir, but if Hawthorne isnt an intelligence officer, just who is he?"

"A remnant, Mr. Allen. A rogue has-been wed all like to forget."

"Then why is he here, Captain? Why is he in the loop?"

Silence. Then finally Stevens answered quietly. "Because he was the best there was, Lieutenant. We came to understand that. Find him!"

While the chauffeur was inside the diner, the bare-chested, bleeding Nicolo came up to the rain-swept window of the limousine. Bajaratt flung open the door and pulled him into the back seat, holding him fiercely and throwing the lap rug around him.

"Stop it, signora," he shouted. "You have gone too far with me. I was nearly killed!"

"You dont understand, Nico. He was another agente segreto, a man who opposed us, opposed me, opposed the wishes of your Holy Church!"

"Then why is everything so secret? Why do you and the people with you and my holy priests not speak out about this terrible thing, whatever in G.o.ds name it is?"

"Things are not done that way, my glorious child. You tried it, you tried to openly expose a corrupt man on the piers and what did it get you? Everyone on the Portici docks wants you dead; your own beloved family cannot acknowledge you, for theyd be killed. Dont you see?"

"I see that you are using me, signora, using your invention, the barone-cadetto, for your own purposes."

"Naturalmente! I chose you because you had a native intelligence far above anyone else; Ive told you that, havent I?"

"Sometimes. When you dont call me a fool and a dock boy."

"Explosions of frustration. What can I tell you?... Believe in me, Nico. In later years, when I am gone, and you are a studioso, thanks to your money in Napoli, you will look back and understand. You will be proud of the silent part you played in this great cause."

"Then in the name of Mary, Mother of Christ, tell me what it is!"

"In the broadest sense, its not much different from what you did before they wanted to hang you off that pier in Portici. Expose the corruptors, not on a deserted dock on the waterfront but all over the world."

Nico shook his head, trembling under the limousine blanket, his teeth chattering. "Again, so many words, so many things I cannot understand."

"You will, my darling. In time.... Youre in pain! What can I do for you?"

"This is a restaurant, no? Perhaps coffee or some wine. Im so cold."

The Baj yanked down the handle of the door and dashed outside in the oppressive rain toward the steps of the diner. Suddenly, two automobiles careened into the front parking lot, skidding on the wet concrete, screeching to a stop beside each other as Bajaratt reached the door. Then she heard the words through the wind and the downpour.

"Commander, you must do as I say! Its an order!"

"f.u.c.k off, p.i.s.sant!"

"Tye, for Christs sake, listen to him!" yelled a woman as the parade of arguing voices approached the steps of the diner.

"No! Theyve screwed up enough! Im going down and dirty, using everything that I can get from the ORyans and the Ingersols. Thats it!"

It was Hawthorne! Bajaratt, dressed in her matronly fas.h.i.+onable clothes from the Via Condotti, rushed into the diner and saw the chauffeur eating a large slice of pie in a nearby booth. "Out!" she whispered. "Now!"

"Who the h.e.l.l are-oh, my G.o.d! Yes, of course, madam!" The chauffeur threw down three dollars and got up quickly as five people, angry people, walked through the door of the diner, at least three or four arguing vociferously.