〃As long as you can get those items I mentioned； I'll be ready。〃
〃Consider it done。 And Jon； you will be wearing a transmitter； won't you？〃
Smith held up a tiny fiberoptic patch that looked identical to a small round Band…Aid； the kind that might be used on a shaving cut。
〃If something goes wrong； sir； you'll at least know how far I got。〃
〃Don't even think that。〃'
After hanging up； Smith took a moment to pose himself。 He thought of everything that had happened up to this point； all the lives that had been sacrificed on the altar of the Cassandra pact。 Then he saw Yuri Danko ing toward him across St。 Mark's Square。。。 and Katrina； his widow。
Without hesitation； he reached for the phone； made sure the scrambler was activated； and dialed the number Peter Howell had passed along。 If anyone tried to trace the call； they'd find themselves zipping from one cutout to another all over the country。
On the other end； the phone was ringing。 The receiver was picked up and an unearthly voice； electronically distorted； answered： 〃Yes？〃
〃This is Nichols。 I'm home。 Hurt。 I need to e in。〃
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
General Frank Richardson inadvertently knocked the cigar burning in the cut…glass ashtray。
〃Say again；〃 he spoke into the phone。
A patchy； mangled voice came back at him。 〃。。。is Nichols 。。。Hurt 。。ing in。〃
Richardson clenched the receiver。 〃Go to safe point Alpha。 Repeat： safe point Alpha。 Copy？〃
〃Copy；〃
The connection was broken。
Richardson stared at the telephone as though he expected it to ring again。 But the silence in his office was broken only by soft ticks of the grandfather clock and the distant drones of Humvees as security details went about their patrols around Fort Belvoir。
Nichols。。。 Hurt。。。 Impossible！
Richardson took a draw on his cigar to steady himself。 A seasoned mander； he quickly reviewed his options and made his decision。 The first call went out to the non barracks on the base。 A crisp； alert voice answered。
Richardson's second call was to NSA deputy…director Anthony Price。 He too was awake； and luckily not that far away in his townhouse in Alexandria。
While Richardson waited for the two men to arrive； he listened to the tape of the conversation。 Even though his secure phone was hooked up to the latest recording equipment； the quality of the speaker's voice was scratchy。 Richardson couldn't tell if the call was local or long distance。 He didn't think that 〃Nichols〃 was all that far away； not if he was ready to rendezvous at safe point Alpha。
But Nichols is dead！
Richardson's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the office door。 His visitor was a big； strapping man in his midthirties with straw…colored hair cut close to the scalp and bright blue eyes。 Normally baggy fatigues were stretched taut over a linebacker's powerful muscles。
〃Good evening； General；〃 Sergeant Patrick Drake said； saluting crisply。
〃At ease；〃 Richardson replied。 He gestured at the wet bar in the corner。 〃Help yourself to a drink； Sergeant。 Believe me； you'll need it。〃
Fifteen minutes later； Anthony Price was escorted into the room by the general's aide…de…camp。
〃Good evening； Tony。〃
Price looked at Drake and raised his eyebrows。 〃What's going on； Frank？〃'
〃What's going on is this；〃 Richardson replied and jabbed the play button on the tape recorder。
He watched the expressions of the two men as they listened to the brief exchange。 He detected nothing except genuine surprise… and in the case of Price； alarm。
〃How the hell could Nichols have made that call？〃 Price demanded。 He turned to Drake。 〃I thought you said that he was dead； soldier！〃
〃With all due respect； sir； Nichols is dead；〃 Drake replied tonelessly。 He looked at Richardson。 〃General； I saw Nichols take a knife in the gut。 You know that there's no way a man can survive that unless he gets immediate medical attention… which wasn't forthing。
〃You should have made sure he was dead；〃 Price snapped。
〃Tony； that's enough！〃 Richardson cut in。 〃I remember your afteraction report； Sergeant。 But you might want to explain the details to Mr。 Price here。〃
〃Yes； sir。〃 Drake turned to Price。 〃Sir； our contact； Franco Grimaldi； was careless。 He allowed Peter Howell to spot the trap。 Howell took him down first； then came after Nichols and myself as we were closing in。 Howell managed to get Nichols's gun and shoot Grimaldi。 At that point； I had no choice but to retreat。 My orders were to conduct this operation in a clandestine fashion。 If something went wrong； I was to fall back and wait for a better opportunity。〃
〃Which never came；〃 Price said sarcastically。
〃The fortunes of war； sir；〃 Drake replied tonelessly。
〃Enough backbiting！〃 Richardson snapped。 〃Drake followed orders； Tony。 That the operation went to hell in a handbasket was not his fault。 The question is； who is passing himself off as Nichols？〃
〃Peter Howell； obviously；〃 Price replied。 〃Clearly Nichols lasted long enough to give him the contact number。〃
Richardson glanced at Drake。 〃Sergeant？〃
〃I agree that Nichols gave up the number； sir。 And the rendezvous point； too。 Otherwise your caller would have asked you to identify safe point Alpha。 But I don't think it was Howell。〃
〃Why？〃
〃Howell lives in this country； sir。 Although he's retired； we've long suspected that he's still available for certain operations； and it came out that he and Smith worked together during Hades。 I think Howell would go active if Smith asked him to； but he would do so only outside the country。 That's why he； not Smith； was in Palermo。 I think Smith made that call； General。〃
Richardson nodded。 〃So do I。〃
〃Smith。。。〃 Price muttered。 〃It all es back to him。 First he's in Moscow； then Beria disappears。 Now he's here。 Frank； you've got to take care of him once and for all。〃
〃Yes；〃 Richardson agreed。 〃Which is why I instructed him to go to safe point Alpha。〃 He looked at Drake。 〃Where you'll be waiting。〃
Wearing hightops； black pants and a turtleneck； and a dark nylon jacket； Jon Smith slipped out of his house and into his car。 Driving out of Bethesda； he continually checked his mirrors。 No vehicle fell in behind hirn on the quiet suburban streets。 No tail picked him up on the beltway。
Smith crossed the Potomac and entered Fairfax County； Virginia。 At this time of night traffic was light； and he drove quickly through the horse country around Vienna； Fairfax； and Falls Church。 South of Alexandria he found the river again and followed it almost to the border of Prince William County。 Here the affluent landscape gave way to stretches of waterfront bordered by thick forest。 As he approached the county line； Smith saw safe point Alpha。
The Virginia Water and Power pumping station had been built in the 1930s； when coal was cheap and health issues nonexistent。 The advent of newer； cleaner units； coupled with the outcries from environmentalists； were enough to close the plant in the early 1990s。 Since then； all attempts to modernize the station had floundered on the rocks of budgetary considerations。 So it continued to stand on the Potomac； a dark； hulking structure looking like some abandoned factory。
Smith turned off the two…lane blacktop and； cutting his headlights； cruised up the access road。 He parked under a copse of trees a quarter mile away and； setting his backpack on his shoulders； jogged the rest of the way。
The first thing he noticed as he got close was the Cyclone fence… still shiny； topped with glistening razor wire。 A fat padlock； showing no rust； secured the heavy chain around the front gates。 The perimeter was well lighted； the halogen lamps giving a winterlike glow to the deserted parking lot in front of the plant。
Being used but not in use。。。
Smith had e across buildings like this before。 The army preferred the neglected； the abandoned； and the derelict； where it could give its special squads the kind of training impossible to duplicate on military reservations。 The Virginia Water and Power plant had that peculiar feel about it。。。 used but not in use。
Perfect for safe point Alpha。
Smith circled almost the entire perimeter before he found a suitable entry point； where the fence met the river's edge。 Climbing over slippery rocks； he made his way around the fence； then sprinted across a section of the deserted parking lot to the nearest wall。 After pausing to get his bearings he scanned the perimeter。 He saw nothing； heard nothing except for the faint calls of night creatures near the water。 Yet his intuition warned him that he was not alone。 His call had sent a shiver along the web。 He just couldn't see the spider 。。。。 Yet。
Hugging the side of the building； Smith moved along the face of the wall； searching for an entry point。
Three stories above Smith； in the shadows of a broken window； Sergeant Patrick Drake watched Smith through night…vision binoculars。 He'd picked him up as soon as Smith had climbed around the fence； the logical entry point。 According to the contents of the dossier Drake had read； Smith was nothing if not logical。 It was an admirable quality in a soldier； but one that made him predictable。 And in this case； fatally vulnerable。
Drake had been flown to the plant by helicopter。 Later