They spent anotherhalf hour talking about possibilities and dangers. St. Vincent said that Bernie would be moved to a different apartment in the same building, ostensibly for security reasons, but actually to take advantage of a group of vacant apartments that could house the backup agents. Bernie’s new apartment would be wired for sound and video, so the watchers would see everything going on inside.
“Sounds like you’ve got a plan,” Mallard said. He waved a finger at the line of counter-intel agents and said, “You folks should head back to Washington, and we’ll leak that to Bernie.”
They all nodded at once, like crows on a fence.
To Sherwood, Mallard said, “You need to script your act.”
And to Lucas: “Time to step back.”
• • •
Sherwood said toMallard, “When I brace Bernie, I want Davenport with me. Bernie knows Davenport shot up the hit team, and he’s probably a little afraid of him. We’ll cut him away from the FBI, gang up on him. Lucas can do that; he can play the crazy violent one, I’ll play the CIA snake. If anything gets Bernie moving, that should do it.”
Mallard nodded: “Okay, go that way.ThenLucas can step back.”
Chase said to Sherwood, “But you probably ought to turn your act around. Lucas can be the snake. He’s very good at that. You could be the violent one.”
Mallard, “Jane…go easy. Lucas gets things done.”
Chase said, “Fuck him.”
St. Vincent: “I second the motion.”
Mallard laughed, while the other agents looked like they didn’t want to get involved.
• • •
St. Vincent saidthat Bernie slept late, and that the agents would be taking him to the hospital at noon, and that he usually only stayed for fifteen minutes or so. “He likes to go shopping. He likes a big lunch. He likes restaurants with lots of women, preferably teenagers.”
“We’ll show up right at noon,” Sherwood said. “Make sure your agents get out of our way.”
There was no milling around when the meeting broke up. Mallard and Chase went off to confer with St. Vincent and the two senior agents, the four counter-intel agents returned to their hotel to getready to fly back to Washington, and Lucas and Sherwood went out to a Caribou Coffee to discuss the play they’d put on for Bernie.
“We want hard-nosed but not ugly, suspicious but not quite certain,” Sherwood suggested over coffee and hot chocolate. “What you really need to do is loom. Let him see your gun.”
“Yeah, I get it. I do this,” Lucas said.
“Loom!”
• • •
They were waitinginside the hospital’s main entrance, already bathed in the soup of hospital stinks, when the agents with Bernie showed up. They watched from behind a screen of hospital visitors as Bernie and the agents turned toward an elevator, gave them five minutes, and followed.
Outside Leonid Sokolov’s room, they caught a doctor coming out. Sherwood, who’d met her earlier, put up a hand to stop her and asked, “What’s the prognosis now?”
The doctor, whose name was Cantor, looked back into the room as the door was swinging shut, and when it was fully closed, shook her head and said, “It’s only an opinion, which is all I have at the moment, but I’d say he’s in serious trouble. Whatever he has in his system is eating him up. We can’t even identify the components, chemical, biological. Not radiation of any kind. He already had some physical problems, his liver, his kidneys. I’m not optimistic. We’re dumping him full of medication, but…”
She turned her hands up, a gesture of helplessness.
They talked for another minute, Novichok was mentioned, then she headed back to her office and Lucas and Sherwood pushed through the door.
Three of Leonid Sokolov’s bodyguard agents were there with him, sitting in easy chairs, each with an open laptop; Bernie and his two escort agents were standing next to Sokolov’s hospital bed, talking to another doctor. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at Lucas and Sherwood, and Sherwood asked, “How’s he doing?”
Bernie said, “He’s out of it. They don’t know if he’ll make it. How could this happen? He was supposed to be watched every minute of every day…”
He reached out and gripped his father’s bare arm, and Lucas thought,That’s how you did it.
Bernie simply stood there, holding his father’s arm, then sighed and said to his escorts, “Let’s go. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
