Mounting Fears by Stuart Woods

Author:Stuart Woods [Woods, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Putnam Adult
Published: 2009-01-13T06:00:00+00:00

33

LANCE CABOT GOT INTO HIS OFFICE AT CIA HEADQUARTERS IN LANGLEY, VIRGINIA, at seven a.m., as usual. He had been deputy director for operations for some months now, and he had just begun to feel he had a firm grip on the job when his direct line rang.

This line was there so that station heads and, sometimes, field agents could go directly to the DDO, in extraordinary circumstances, and whenever it rang, Lance got tense. He picked up the instrument. “Hello?”

“Lance, it’s Owen Masters in Panama City. Can we scramble?”

Lance pressed the scrambler button. “Good morning, Owen, we’re scrambled.” Lance didn’t like Masters a hell of a lot. As a young agent he had found the man to be opinionated and rude. The only reason he had left him as station chief in Panama was that the man had only a few months until his retirement.

“Something has come up I think you should know about. Yesterday morning a dead body was discovered on the deck of an oil tanker that had passed through the canal en route to Galveston.”

“Anybody we know?”

Masters ignored the question. “The body was taken off by the Coast Guard and flown to Panama City, which has the only medical examiner in the country. When an American dies in the Canal Zone I routinely get a call from a cop I know on the Panama City force, and this morning, on the way to work, I met him at the morgue and had a look at the body. It could be an accident, but it’s more likely a homicide.”

Lance was annoyed. Why on earth would a station chief take an interest in a local homicide? He repeated his question. “Anybody we know, Owen?”

“Not exactly, but he’s an American journalist, in a manner of speaking, who works for a rag called the National Inquisitor, based in D.C. Know it?”

“Vaguely. It’s gossip, isn’t it?”

“Right.”

“So how does this interest us, Owen?”

“I went through his effects. His name is Edward Partain, American. He had quite a lot of cash and credit cards on him, so it wasn’t a robbery.”

Lance was getting ready to hang up, when Masters stopped him.

“And he was carrying a photograph of Teddy Fay.”

Lance was stunned. He took a moment to collect himself before he spoke. “There are no existing photographs of Teddy Fay,” he said. “He removed them from all the databases before he started assassinating right-wing politicians.”

“There’s at least one photograph now,” Masters replied.

“And how do you know the photograph is one of Teddy Fay?”

“Because I knew him when I was a field agent. He outfitted me for a couple of missions—fake passports, driver’s licenses, credit cards—that sort of thing. He was the top guy in Tech Services.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Twelve, fifteen years.”

“And how old is the photograph?”

“I’m not sure. Five to ten years, I’d guess.”

“Have you mentioned this to anybody in your station?”

“No. Nobody’s in yet.”

“Then don’t. Scan the photo and e-mail it to me now.”

“Will do.”

“Did you get the original or a copy?”

“I got the only one on the body.

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