Free Threat Level Black by Jim DeFelice Page B

Garden.”
    They were having the Final Four championship games at the Garden this year, the first time ever. Jimmy had gone to Penn State but had inexplicably seized on Syracuse as a team to root for after moving to New York State a decade or so before. Howe had no doubt that he would try and scalp tickets at Madison Square Garden if the Orangemen somehow made it to the play-offs. Tickets would go for thousands, he thought; everybody was making a big deal out of the fact that they were at the Garden.
    “Ain’t gonna happen,” said Howe.
    “We’ll see,” said Jimmy.
    After he hung up, he flipped on the basketball game, a first rounder in the NCAA finals. Syracuse was comfortably ahead, but they were only playing Marist, which had managed somehow to draw the last bid of the tourney. With Syracuse up by twenty after one period, the game was pretty boring. He was just about to click off the set when the phone rang; thinking it was Jimmy calling back to rub in the game details, he hesitated but then picked up the phone.
    “Hello?”
    “Colonel Howe,” said a female voice, “stand by, please, for Dr. Blitz.”
    “Colonel,” said Blitz, coming on the line before Howe could even answer. “Sorry we’ve been missing each other. A lot of stuff going on over here. I know it’s getting late and I won’t keep you. How about we have dinner next Tuesday night?” suggested Blitz. “My wife loves to cook.”
    “I wasn’t planning on staying in town quite that long,” said Howe. “I was hoping to leave Saturday.”
    “I’m afraid I have to go to Camp David for the weekend with the President.” Blitz paused. “Why don’t you come along?”
    “I don’t think so,” said Howe.
    “No, no, you really should: A lot of the important people you’ll be working with will be there.”
    Howe smiled at the way Blitz had made it sound as if he’d decided to take the job.
    “I think I’ll pass on the weekend, if that’s okay. Thanks, though.”
    “Well, let’s set up that dinner, then. And I think the President will want to talk to you as well.”
    Howe sighed. They really did want him to take the goddamn job, didn’t they?
    Maybe he wanted it as well. Because really, if he didn’t, wouldn’t he have gone home already?
    “So I can mark you down for dinner Tuesday?” asked Blitz. “Come over to my office in the afternoon—four, say. This way the President can drop by and say hi.”
    Howe barely got “Well…” out of his mouth when Blitz started talking again.
    “I understand your hesitation,” said Blitz, in a voice that suggested the opposite. “At least let the board of directors make a formal offer,” insisted Blitz. “We’ll have lunch Monday. Come over to my office. In the meantime, use that limo. Go out. Have fun. Even if you don’t take the job.”
    The national security advisor paused and said something to someone else in his office. “Maybe you should have your mom come down from Pennsylvania. Show her Washington,” he said when he came back on the line.
    “My mother’s sixty-eight.”
    “Colonel, you really ought to relax for the next few days, just give yourself some time to think. Enjoy it—like a little minivacation. You’ve dedicated your life to your country, and you’ve made huge contributions. This is just a little bit of payback.”
    “I’ll see you for lunch. I have to be honest, though: I’m leaning against the job. Very much against.”
    “We’ll talk Monday,” said Blitz. “Wait until Monday.”

Chapter
16

    Fisher was now officially played and had to stay in the background as the operation proceeded. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just disappear; one more lecture on joules and he would stick his fingers into the nearest light socket. So he feigned gastric distress and made a show of heading quickly to the men’s room, where he hung out for a while, smoking the cigarettes he’d traded for and listening to the attendant harangue customers for greenbacks instead of rubles.