“It was necessary,” she replied, gazing into her drink.

“You are quite a remarkable woman, Felicity,” he said. “If I thought there were the slightest chance of success, I’d be inviting you for a quiet dinner for two this evening. My wife is at Chequers for a few days.”

“You are kind, Prime Minister, but our positions make that impossible.”

“Of course they do,” he replied, chuckling to cover his embarrassment at being rejected. “Well, back to our original subject. What do you think are the chances of pulling off this Sealand thing without making the papers?”

“Well, there is always the Official Secrets Act,” she said, referring to the act of Parliament that made it possible to hide almost anything from the public. “But, of course, that doesn’t apply to the European media, and these days…”

“Quite, quite.”

“I think there are three possibilities for an outcome,” she said.

“And they are?”

“One, we go in, find what we want, and get out without being discovered. I think this is the least likely, but it could happen.”

“Yes, that would be desirable.”

“Two, we go in, and they discover that someone has been there, but they don’t know who. I think we have a better chance of that.”

“And three?”

“We go in, are discovered, and the Sealand people blab to the press. I think that, for planning purposes, we should think of that as the likely outcome.”

“Mmmm,” the prime minister said, noncommittally.

“I think in that case, we should take some pains for them not to know who we are, to make them think that our party is there for commercial purposes. I can do some work on that.”

“I like that,” Ridgeway said. He stood up. “Well, get back to me when you and Sir Ewan have a plan.”

She stood up and set down her drink. “Thank you, Prime Minister. We’ll try to be quick.”

“More important to be thorough,” he said. He watched her exit the room, regretting that he had not been more persuasive.

31

KATE ARRIVED AT HER OFFICE in Langley at her usual time. She had a regular weekly briefing scheduled from her deputy director for intelligence, who ran the Agency’s analysts, and her deputy director for operations, who ran its spies.

They appeared in her office on schedule, Morton Koppel, the DDI, and Hugh English, the DDO, and she listened to their reports and discussed many items at length. Their deputies and assistants took notes as did the deputy director for central intelligence, her number two, Creighton Adams.

Two hours later, when the briefing was concluded, Kate dismissed everyone but her DDI, DDO, and DDCI. She offered them a short break, and after everyone had been to the john and poured another cup of coffee, she plunged ahead.

“There’s something I want to discuss with you,” she said. “This is entirely informal: no notes are being taken and no recordings made. I simply want your opinion on something.”

Everybody looked interested.

“Ed Rawls is ill,” she said. “He’s been in prison for sixteen years, and he had heart surgery last summer. His doctor has told me that his prognosis is guarded, at best, and that he could, in fact, die at any time.” She paused.

Nobody said anything, but Hugh English, the DDO, looked annoyed.

“Ed did a despicable thing,” she said, “and I, for one, will never forgive him far it, but I’m considering a recommendation to the president that his sentence be commuted to time served, on compassionate grounds. He was sentenced to life without parole, so parole is not an option. I want to hear the views of each of you on the subject,” She turned to her DDCI. “Creighton?”

“How quietly could this be done?” he asked. “And what would the reaction of Congress be? Would such a commutation reflect badly on the Agency?” Creighton Adams was the most cautious of men and the most highly attuned to political considerations.

“It would have to be made public, of course, and I’m sure the Post and the Times would spend a day recapping Ed’s crime and trial. As for the Congress, pardons and commutations are the president’s prerogative, and he would have to take any heat generated. There would be less heat, of course, if the Agency’s top management acquiesced.”

Adams nodded. “I’m not opposed, in principle. I’d like to think a bit more about the consequences.”

Kate turned to her DDL “Mort?”

“I didn’t know Rawls as well as the rest of you, so there’s no personal consideration involved. Ordinarily, I’d want him to die in prison but…” He shrugged. “If he gets out I hope to God I won’t bump into him at cocktail parties in Virginia and D.C.”

“Yes,” Adams said, “that would be awkward.”

“Ed still owns a house on an island in Maine, Islesboro. He says he wants to go there to die. It’s a long way from Washington.”

“You’ve spoken with Ed?” Adams asked.

She shook her head. “No. He’s written to me a couple of times.”

She looked at her DDO, who was staring into his coffee cup. “Hugh?”

English raised his head and looked at her. “If there were a way to have him tortured, I’d vote for that. I will never, ever acquiesce in having him pardoned.”

“That’s pretty vociferous, Hugh,” Koppel said. “What are your reasons?”

Kate was glad he had asked, because she didn’t want to.

“Well, let’s see,” English said, and began ticking things off on his fingers. “He’s betrayed his country and this agency, and he did it for money. He’s humiliated all of us. And he’s directly responsible for the deaths of two of our best people in the Stockholm embassy, and they were my friends. Is that enough?”

“Just to set the record straight,” Adams interjected, “he was blackmailed by the Soviets. It was sex, not money, that was his downfall, and as bad as that was, I knew Ed well, and I don’t think he would have ever knowingly done anything that would have caused the deaths of Lewis and Barbara Moore. They were his friends, too, and Ed had a gift for friendship.”

“You’re in denial, Creighton,” English said. “You’re unable to see the facts clearly.”

Koppel spoke up, and there was an edge in his voice. “Nobody is ever able to see the facts as clearly as you do, Hugh.”

English stood up. “That’s it for me. You asked for my opinion, Kate, and I’ve given it to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” Kate said.

“I didn’t expect it,” Adams replied. “I’ve never heard Hugh mention Ed’s name in any context whatever. Kate, will you go to the president with the support of three of the four of us?”

“Three out of four ain’t bad,” Koppel said.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think it would be easier for the president if he could say that the management of the Agency unanimously supported him.”

“He can still say that a majority-a large majority of management supports him,” Adams said.

“Then you’re on board, Creighton?”

“On reflection, I am.”

“Mort?”

“Count me in.”

“Thank you both. We’ll see where this leads.”

She watched them leave and reflected that even though she couldn’t bring Hugh English on board, at least he had had the effect of strengthening the resolve of Koppel and Adams.

Her secretary buzzed. “Ms. Rule, do you have anything on your calendar for dinner the day after tomorrow? There’s something at the British embassy, and we haven’t responded.”

Kate looked at her calendar. “Yes, we have the new Russian president for dinner that night,” she said.

“I’ll send regrets, then.”

Kate regretted it, too. She liked the British crowd and enjoyed their dinners. Still, she’d have an opportunity to get to know Georgi Majorov. He was ex-KGB, and that made him very interesting to her.