Jeffrey Boyle was sitting at his desk when his personal assistant announced that Julia Carr was there to see him.
“Send her in.”
Carr walked into the office, her confident façade cracking around the edges.
“I’ve been working on getting up to speed on this Cobra/Cougar situation,” she said. “It’s a lot to take in. We’re looking at a government contractor gone rogue—it’s the only term I can use to describe it—coupled with a mole in the CIA and—get this—a senator mastermind. Edgar Nickerson.”
Boyle looked at her, deep in thought. “Do they have the evidence to back up all of this?”
“Oh, there’s no doubt Acevedo International is into some serious illegal activity,” she said. “We’re talking treason, and they have the surveillance photos to prove it. Lawyers might get the higher-ups off, but if we allow this to get out, the company’s finished when it comes to government contracts.”
Boyle nodded. “And what about the link with Nickerson?”
“They’ve got nothing conclusive to show for it, although they seem thoroughly convinced.”
“I see. Well, keep me posted, Julia. This situation even now calls for special attention. Remember, I want you to oversee this personally. Nobody else gets the full picture, and none of this information leaves this department. And I want to be informed of any new developments. You understand?”
“There is one thing, sir,” she said. “Cobra apparently took a memory chip of some sort from Natasha Vasiliyevna’s corpse.”
Boyle looked at her with rapt attention. “What was on it?”
“We don’t know,” said Carr. “Apparently, it’s got some serious encryption. But we have Lowry looking at it, and he says cracking it will be a real intelligence coup.”
He frowned. “I see. How long until he is done decrypting it?”
“He says not for a few days, sir.”
“Good,” he said. But she didn’t move. “Anything else?”
“Well, sir, I thought I might tell you that Cobra’s wife and daughter are about to arrive at headquarters. Within the next”—she checked her watch—“fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you for letting me know, Julia. Is that all?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then, if you’ll excuse me, I need to report to the Director.”
She took her leave and shut the door behind her. Boyle picked up the phone. “Jordan? Clear my schedule. I’m going to be absent from the office for the rest of the day.”
“But sir, you have a conference call with the Director of National Intelligence at three.”
“Tell him I’m up to my neck. Reschedule it for tomorrow,” he said. “You know the drill.” He put the phone back into its cradle. Then he got up, picked up his briefcase, and walked out the door.
“I’ll take over from here,” said Boyle to the two agents accompanying the Morgans. Then he turned his attention to the wife, whom he knew only from her pictures in Cobra’s file. Jenny Morgan. She was younger in the photos, but her beauty had aged well. What the pictures hadn’t shown was the innocent gullibility betrayed by her eyes, even while her body language showed tension and mistrust.
“Mrs. Morgan,” he said, extending his hand to her. “My name is Jeffrey Boyle, and I’m director of the National Clandestine Service.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Mrs. Morgan, not entirely convincingly.
“And this must be Alexandra,” he said, looking at the girl. She had her mother’s looks, but there was definitely something of Cobra in her. Young as she was, she sported a distinct fortitude and shrewdness.
“Please accept my sincere apology, Mrs. Morgan, and Miss,” he added, nodding to Alex, “for our involvement in this affair. We were deceived by one of our own, and that led to some bad decisions. I am very sorry.” Jenny looked at him without friendliness in her eyes. “I’m afraid I need to follow that up with a request,” he said. “I’d like you to answer a few questions about the events of the past two weeks.”
“I’d like to see my husband first,” replied Jenny.
“That will be arranged. But he isn’t here right now. We put him up at a hotel a few miles away. Needless to say, your husband can use some rest.”
“Then we’ll go right to him,” said Jenny.
“I’m sorry, but I thought this was explained to you. We will have to interview you right away. We have to ask you to remain here at headquarters for a few hours.”
“A few hours? I’m not going to wait that long to see my husband, Mr. Boyle.”