He was right. I hated that he was right, but he was.
“Fine,” I said. “But we do it together. If we’re going to get yelled at, we’re getting yelled at together.”
We bundled up and walked to a phone booth on a corner three blocks from the safe house. Will dialed the emergency number while I pressed close enough to hear both sides of the conversation. The familiar series of cutouts clicked through, and thencame Manakin’s voice, sharp despite what had to be an ungodly hour in Washington.
“This had better be—”
“Manakin, Emu. Condor is with me.”
A pause. When Manakin spoke again, his voice had gone dangerously flat.
“Well, well, the prodigal sons. I was beginning to wonder if you two had defected.” His words dripped acid. “I ordered you to stand down. I ordered you to stay in Paris and wait for authorization. Instead, I get reports—reports, Emu, from sources I can’t even acknowledge—that two American operatives have been running around Switzerland like cowboys, meeting with bankers, surveilling government officials, scouting military installations, and generally making a mess of everything I’ve spent weeks trying to manage quietly.”
“Sir—”
“Stop! I’m not finished.” Manakin’s voice rose. “Do you have any idea what position you’ve put me in? I went to bat for you. I pushed the authorization request up the chain. I called in favors. While I was doing that, you were out there playing hero, completely off the reservation, with no backup and no oversight and no goddamn regard for—”
“Sir.” Will’s voice cut through the tirade, calm but firm. “We have intelligence. Significant, time-sensitive intelligence.”
Manakin went quiet.
“Talk,” he said finally.
Will recited what we’d learned, his words efficient, almost mechanical, more in the way one might expect a report on paper than on the phone.
“We believe ‘Chamber Session’ is an archaic term or code phrase for an emergency session of the Swiss Federal Council,” Will said. “These sessions are only called under extraordinary circumstances and often grant expanded executive powers. If they can manufacture a crisis and trigger that session with compromised ministers in place—”
“They can legitimize a coup,” Manakin finished. His tone had shifted. The anger was still there, but beneath it I heard the cold focus of a professional recognizing a genuine threat. “You’re telling me the Soviets are backing a fascist cult to overthrow the Swiss government.”
“That’s what the evidence suggests, sir. It’s also what the Baroness believes.”
“And this Adlerhorst—you’ve seen it yourself?”
“We scouted it last night. It’s well guarded and fortified. The eastern wing has barred windows and specialized ventilation. We’re fairly certain it’s a detention facility.” Will hesitated. “We also identified a possible infiltration route, a drainage channel on the eastern cliff face.”
“Infiltration route?” Manakin’s voice sharpened. “For the love of God, please tell me you’re notplanning to assault a fortified military installation on foreign soil without official cover or backup.”
“We’re not planning anything at the moment, sir. We’re reporting intelligence.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No, sir. It’s not.”
The phone line crackled through the silence that followed. I could picture Manakin in whatever office or safe house he was working from, probably pinching the bridge of his nose, reaching for a cigarette, and trying to reconcile Swiss neutrality with the nightmare we had just described.
“All right,” he said finally. “All right. Here’s where we stand. After your first call, I pushed hard for authorization. Three days ago, I received limited approval for a Swiss operation.”
I felt Will stiffen beside me.
“What kind of approval?” he asked.
“Verylimited. Observation only. No weapons, no active measures, no contact with local assets that could be traced back to the Agency. I was planning to send a team to Bern next week to assess the situation.” His voice turned bitter. “Apparently you two decided to handle the assessment yourselves.”
“Sir, we didn’t know—”
“Of course you didn’t know. You went dark, for fuck’s sake.” Manakin sighed heavily, reining himself in. “What’s done is done. The question is, ‘What happens now?’ I’ll brief the Director today. Nodoubt, he’ll want to brief the President. This is going to set off alarm bells all the way up the chain. A Soviet operation in Switzerland, taking hold of the most important banking center in Europe—this is exactly the kind of destabilization play we’ve been worried about.”
“Will there be support?” I asked. “If things escalate?”
