Chapter Eleven

WHISPERER ANSWERED ALMOST immediately, but his voice, even softer than usual, was so hoarse it sounded like acid running over gravel. There had been too much stress, too little sleep, too many disappointments for one man’s plate.

I told him the mistake we had made in trying to run the Saracen down and explained what I wanted to try – not the detail of it, just the broad strokes. Thankfully, he was so experienced, he didn’t need chalk on a board.

I said we had to delay the rendition of Cumali and convince the president to postpone his address to the nation. ‘I need time for it to work, Dave, ’ I said.

He tried to laugh. ‘You’re asking me for the one thing we don’t have, ’ he countered, and again I heard the years in his voice. ‘We can’t delay, I was speaking to him twenty minutes ago – it’s impossible. ’

I pleaded my case, I begged him and, finally, when that got me nowhere, I told him in anger that he had better listen to me because I was the best agent of my generation and, fuck it, I was telling him we had a chance. He said nothing for a moment, and I could tell that the raw vanity of it, so out of character for me, had shocked him. He told me to wait.

So I clung on, both literally and metaphorically, pitching and plunging through the turbulence while he called the president on another phone. A few minutes later I heard his footsteps return across the wooden floor of his study.

‘I just spoke to Grosvenor, ’ he reported. ‘He doesn’t think it’ll work, he doesn’t believe in it—’

‘Jesus! ’ I interjected. ‘Did you explain our mistake? ’

‘Sure I did, ’ Whisperer replied tersely. ‘I said we’d ridden out like a posse and we should have been desperadoes waiting for a train. How was that – clear enough? ’

‘And he still didn’t get it? ’

‘You didn’t let me finish. He said he doesn’t believe in it – but he believes in you. You’ve got thirty-six hours. ’

The relief flooded in. One more chance for salvation, one more chance for redemption. ‘Thanks, ’ I said sheepishly.

‘Phone us, good or bad. If it starts falling apart, he wants to know immediately. He’s got the address to the nation written. He said no false hope, no letting wishing overwhelm logic. If it’s a turd, don’t try to polish it. ’

‘Okay, ’ I replied.

‘You’ve got my number; here’s another one in case there’s a problem. It’s Grosvenor’s. ’

As good as my memory was, I didn’t want to trust it so I pulled out my cellphone and entered it on speed-dial under 911. I was still keying it in as Whisperer plunged on.

‘Okay, so we’ve got thirty-six hours and we’ve got the outline of a plan. Now we work it. What’s the first step? ’

‘A phone call, ’ I replied. ‘We can’t make it ourselves – it has to sound like the real deal. What’s the highest-level asset we have inside Turkish intelligence? ’

Given the country’s strategic importance, I knew that the CIA – like every other major intelligence agency – would have spent years cultivating turncoats inside MIT.

Whisperer said nothing – I was asking him to discuss one of our nation’s most closely held secrets.

‘Dave? ’ I prompted him.

‘There’s somebody we could use, ’ he said reluctantly.

‘Who? ’ I knew that I was pushing too hard, but I had to know if it would fly.

‘For shit’s sake – don’t ask me that, ’ he replied.

‘Who? ’

‘There are two deputy directors of MIT, ’ he said finally. ‘One of ’em grew up Wal-Mart but prefers Gucci, okay? ’

‘Shit … a deputy director? ’ I said, taken aback. Despite my years in The Division, I could still be shocked at the scale of betrayal inside the secret world. ‘He’s not going to like doing this, ’ I said.

‘He won’t have a choice – he’ll be scared I’ll turn him into his government. Maybe they still hang traitors in Turkey. What are the details? ’ I heard the rustle of paper as he grabbed a pen to take notes.

When I had finished, he read the bullet points back to me, but he had done more than record them – he had improved and massaged them on the move and, once again, I thanked God for a great case officer.

‘What now? ’ he asked. ‘Call him and get him to do it? ’

‘Yeah, it’s warp-speed if we’re gonna have a chance. ’

I rang off and, while Whisperer was dropping a bomb on a deputy director of MIT, I hammered on the cockpit door. I heard the voice of the ex-US Air Force pilot through the intercom.

‘What is it? ’

‘Change of plan. Ditch Gaza, we’re going to Bodrum. ’

The door flew open. ‘Where’s Bodrum? ’

I yelled the answer, but I was already turning back to the closet. I had another urgent call to make.