Free The Cabal by David Hagberg Page B

packing and pull out a 9mm Wilson semiautomatic pistol with custom grips and sight, three spare magazines of ammunition, and a suppressor.
    He holstered the pistol at the small of his back and, turning out the light, went back across the hall and returned the kit to their luggage.
    For a long time he stood near the bed, watching his wife’s sleeping face. She didn’t look exactly at peace, but she was finally getting some rest. He hoped she wasn’t dreaming.
    Leaning down he kissed her lightly on the cheek, took his small overnight bag from the closet, and went downstairs.
    Liz was waiting in the darkened dayroom, sitting in the corner smoking a cigarette, something she hadn’t done for a long time.
    McGarvey held up across the room from her. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked.
    “Waiting for you,” she said.
    “What about Pete and Dan Green?”
    “I sent them back to Langley. They were done here and they knew it. So I didn’t get any argument.” Liz stubbed out her cigarette. “Anyway, you don’t have to keep watching over your shoulder for them. They won’t be there. They understand the score, and in fact Pete said to wish you good luck.”
    McGarvey put down his bag by the door and went across to her. “I’m so sorry. I wish—”
    Liz looked up at him with so much anguish and such total devastation written all over her face that she took his breath away. “When we raised our right hands and took the oath, we understood the risks,” she said. “You know this probably better than anyone else.” She didn’t avert her eyes. “How did you handle it?”
    “Sometimes not very well,” McGarvey replied, thinking back to the day Katy had given him her ultimatum—me or the CIA—and he had run away.
    She looked away for just a moment, finally, maybe seeing some of the anguish and devastation on his face. “Do you know what’s keeping me on track? The only thing?”
    “Audie?”
    She looked up at her father and a brief smile passed her mouth.“Her too. But it’s you, Daddy. And Mother.” She shook her head. “Christ, there never was such a couple, or ever will be.”
    McGarvey had no idea what to say. But he leaned over and brushed a kiss on her cheek.
    “The gray Chevy van, government plates, out front. No one will notice. Keys are in it.”
    McGarvey nodded. “Keep your head down, sweetheart, this is bound to get ugly.”
    Her eyes tightened. “Oh, I hope so.”
    And McGarvey left.

THIRTEEN

    The airport shuttle dropped Remington off under the sweeping portico of the five-star Frankfurt Steigenberger Hotel around two in the afternoon. Although he had slept reasonably well in first class on the Lufthansa flight over, he’d been restive, worried about what was coming next.
    With Kirk McGarvey now in the mix, the assassinations of Van Buren and Givens would have to be explained to the satisfaction of the FBI, and of course the CIA, which was one of the objects of the exercise in addition to silencing the nosy reporter. And he needed to impress on Roland what was at stake for both of them, for Admin’s continued existence, even for their personal freedom. He had no desire to end up in a federal prison somewhere because Roland refused to keep his eye on the ball.
    He carried only a small overnight bag with a clean shirt andunderwear and his toiletries—because he was only staying the night, taking the morning flight back—plus his laptop with all the material from Givens’s computer and a BlackBerry, encrypted. He figured there would be little danger crossing borders with the material; he was just an ordinary businessman who’d popped across the pond for a meeting. No one bothered with commerce.
    He spotted Sandberger seated across the lobby, reading a newspaper, but went directly over to the front desk where he checked in and sent his overnight bag up to his suite with a bellman, whom he tipped well, but not so well that the man would remember him.
    The hotel wasn’t terribly busy at