Dead or Alive - Tom Clancy [109]
“What kind?” Rounds asked.
“Didn’t say. Has to be small, noncommercial, or the news would have it.” Missing 757s tended to generate buzz.
“How long ago?”
“Three days.”
“We know the source?”
“The routing looked internal, so FAA or NTSB, maybe. I checked yesterday and today; not a peep from anyone.” Which meant somebody had clamped a lid on the subject. “Might be another way to go about this, though.”
“Tell me.”
“Follow the money,” Jack said.
Rounds smiled at this. “Insurance.”
32
IT WAS 10:47 when his phone rang. Tom Davis had just finished a fairly large bond trade, one that would earn The Campus $1,350,000, which was not bad for three days’ work. He grabbed the phone on the second ring. “Tom Davis.”
“Mr. Davis, my name is John Clark. I was told to give you a call. Maybe do lunch.”
“Told by whom?”
“Jimmy Hardesty,” Clark replied. “I’ll have a friend with me. His name is Domingo Chavez.”
Davis thought for a moment, immediately cautious, but it was more an instinctive reaction than a necessity. Hardesty didn’t hand out these introductions to hacks. “Sure, let’s talk,” Davis replied. He gave Clark directions and said, “I’ll look for you about noon.”
Hey, Gerry,” Davis said on entering the top-floor office. “Just got a call.”
“Anybody we know?” the boss asked.
“Hardesty at Langley sent two guys to see us. Both slotted for retirement from the Agency. John Clark and Domingo Chavez.”
Hendley’s eyes went a little wide. “The John Clark?”
“So it would appear. He’ll be here around noon.”
“Do we want him?” the former senator asked, already half-knowing the answer.
“He’s certainly worth talking to, boss. If nothing else, he’d be a hell of a training officer for our field people. I only know him by reputation. Ed and Mary Pat Foley love the guy, and that’s a hard endorsement to ignore. He doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty, thinks on his feet. Good instincts, plenty smart. Chavez is cut from the same cloth. He was part of Rainbow with Clark.”
“Reliable?”
“We have to talk to them, but probably.”
“Fair enough. Bring them over if you think it’s worthwhile.”
“Will do.” Davis made his way out.
Christ on a bike, Hendley thought. John Clark.
Left here,” Domingo said as they got within a hundred yards of the light.
“Yeah. Must be that building there on the right. See the antenna farm?”
“Yep,” Chavez observed as they took the turn. “Get a whole shitload of FM with that.”
Clark chuckled at that. “Don’t see any security. Good sign.” Professionals knew when to play harmless.
He parked the rent-a-car in what seemed to be the visitors’ lot, and they got out and walked in the front door.
“Good morning, sir,” said a uniformed security guard. He was in a generic uniform, and his name tag said CHAMBERS. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see a Mr. Davis. John Clark and Domingo Chavez.”
Chambers lifted his phone and punched some numbers. “Mr. Davis? Chambers here in the lobby. Two gentlemen here to see you. Yes, sir, thank you.” The phone went back down. “He’s coming down to see you, gentlemen.”
Davis appeared in just over a minute. He was black, of average size, about fifty or so, Clark estimated. Well dressed, shirtsleeves rolled up, tie loosened. The busy broker. “Thanks, Ernie,” he said to the security guard, then: “You must be John Clark.”
“Guilty,” John admitted. “And this is Domingo Chavez.” And handshakes were exchanged.
“Come on up.” Davis led them inside to the elevators.
“I’ve seen your face before. Other side of the river,” Chavez clarified.
“Oh?” Davis reacted guardedly.
“At the operations room. Watch officer?”
“Well, once I was an NIO. Here I’m a lowly bond trader. Mainly corporate stuff, but some government issues.”
They followed Davis to the top floor and then to his office—or most of the way. His office was right next to Rick Bell’s, and someone was heading in there.
“Hey,” Clark heard, and turned around to find Jack Ryan Jr. walking down the hall.
Clark took his hand, and for once his face showed surprise. “Jack … You work here, eh?”