The prodigal spy

It hadn’t been Hoover’s tail. He’d been telling the truth. Rrown, or someone, had been following her. Or had Barbara called in an alarm? And now they were here, just a few feet from her. He wanted to shout out. Hopeless. But she’d know them, run for it. Except she’d never seen Ruth Silberstein, never been in the store. Nick watched through the binoculars as they approached her. What story would they have? At first she smiled. Then a moment of panic on her face, a quick glance around for help. She stepped away, but Ruth pulled her in and the ponytail moved behind her, close to her back, and then they were moving off together toward Constitution Avenue in a huddle. Run.

Nick dropped the binoculars and started racing through the crowd, bumping into people, dodging section leaders with bullhorns. The chant came back from the stage again, and those who had been sitting, picnic style, jumped up. “Out now!” Nick tried to push through a wall of people, not even able to see the road anymore. Flailing through vines in a jungle, shoving them aside. “Hey, where’s the fire, man?” Someone said “Peace,” as if the word itself had power. Had they known all along, been aware of their amateur shadows? Brown’s elaborate route, a lure. Not just a dirty bookstore. Nick’s mind raced through the crowd, faster than his blocked feet. But why here, in public? What would have drawn them out? The envelope. They knew she’d taken the envelope. And then, as he edged around a group of girls, stalled, the other thought occurred to him. Larry. Of course he’d lie. There had never been any deal. You don’t wait. The oldest instinct in the book. She really had become Rosemary.

By the time he reached the road, calling out her name now, they had disappeared. He ran faster, trying to catch up. Police glared at him. Then he saw a car across the avenue, the ponytail bundling her in. He screamed her name. As she got into the car, she turned her head as if, impossibly, she’d heard him, and he thought, a final panic, that it could be the last time he’d ever see her. He ran across the avenue, halting traffic, but the car was pulling away, too far for him even to make out the license plate, and then sped around the corner.

He stopped and stood still, heaving. They’d question her first. But for how long? It was the lawn at Holeckova again, feeling utterly helpless. He glanced toward the line of police. But what would he say? And then, another jolt, what if they were following him too? Or was she just bait, Larry’s new bargaining chip? Bastard, he thought, and began running toward Pennsylvania Avenue. Somewhere they wouldn’t follow, if he could make it.

He tried to calm his breathing as he walked into the Justice Department. Don’t look out of place. He went to the row of phone booths and pulled out some change. If it had been Larry, they might not even question her. He already knew. Nick tried the Hay-Adams-not there. But you couldn’t call the White House. Unless your life depended on it. He dialed. The switchboard believed the emergency-the operator could hear it in his ragged breathing.

“Nick, are you crazy?” Larry said when he came on. “Pulling me out of a meeting. What-”

“Be quiet. I’m at the Justice Department. I’m going up to Hoover’s office unless you let her go. Do you understand?”

“No. Nick, these phones.” Hedging. “They’re not secure.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Let her go.”

“Calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You kidnapped her. Molly. I fucking saw them. Ruth and the freak from the porno store. They probably had Brown in the car. Where’d they take her, Larry? Christ.”

“Stop it. You’re babbling. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Was it possible? “Look, come over here. I’ll meet you outside. Not the phones.”

“Forget it. I’m not leaving here. It’s safe. Even you wouldn’t try to get me here. I’ll go upstairs, Larry, I mean it. I’ll tell him everything.”

“What do you mean, safe? Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not all right. They’ve got her. They’ll kill her unless you stop it.”

“Nick, I’ll say it one more time. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She was following Brown. He must have spotted her. Or your girlfriend.”

“Nick-”

“I don’t give a fuck!” he yelled. “You have to get her. Fix this. That’s what you do, isn’t it? They’re your people-talk to your boss. You must have one. He’ll know. Tell him I’m already at the Bureau. If they touch one hair, one hair, I’ll blow the whole fucking operation. I can do it. I have the names, Larry. You want to hear them? You’re not supposed to know. Nobody’s supposed to know. But they will. Tell him I have the envelope too.”

“What envelope?”

“Your envelope. Your last fucking report.”

“Nick-” A beat. “Stay where you are. I’ll be right there. Where in Justice?”

“In the lobby. Right next to an armed guard.”