Free The Bancroft Strategy by Robert Ludlum Page A

here because I thought I’d get some answers. What happened yesterday wasn’t in anybody’s goddamn playbook that I know of. Suggests another factor’s at work. Maybe you know something I haven’t been privy to.”
    â€œYou’re good,” Garrison said. “We could have you fluttered and see just how good.” Fluttered : subjected to a polygraph examination—to a lie detector.
    â€œWhat the hell, Garrison?” Belknap felt his guts beginning to curdle.
    Pretend solicitude barely masked a smirk as Garrison pressed on. “You’ve got to remember who you really are. The rest of us sure do. Times change. It can be a bitch to keep up. Think I don’t know that? These days, James Bond himself would find himself remanded to Alcoholics Anonymous, probably forced to join some program for sexual addiction, too. I’ve been around the block longer than you, so I remember. The spy game used to be the Wild West. Now it’s the Mild West. Used to be a sport for the jungle cats. Now Puss-in-Boots is running the goddamn show, am I right?”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” The turn in the conversation was making Belknap’s skin crawl.
    â€œI’m just saying I can see where you’re coming from. After what happened, a lot of people would have lost it. Even someone without your history.”
    â€œMy history is just that. History.”
    â€œLike the man says, there are no second acts in American life. No second acts, and no intermissions, either.” Garrison held a thick file a few feet above his desk and with a dramatic flourish let it drop. It made a smacking sound as it landed. “Do I need to cite chapter and verse? A temper is what they used to call what you’ve got. Now they call it a rage-management issue.”
    â€œYou’re talking about just a few episodes.”
    â€œYeah, and John Wilkes Booth only shot a man once. But it was a doozy.” Another tea-colored smile. “Remember a Bulgarian pisser named Drakulic? He still can’t sit right.”
    â€œEight girls under the age of twelve suffocated to death in his trailer because their families were a little short on the money he was demanding to smuggle them into the West. I saw those corpses. I saw the bloody scratches on the inside of the trailer from when those girls ran out of air. The fact that Drakulic is still sitting at all is a tribute to some goddamn supreme self-control.”
    â€œYou lost it. You were supposed to be collecting information onthe trafficking techniques, not playing avenging angel. Remember a Colombian gentleman named Juan Calderone? We do.”
    â€œHe had tortured five of our informants to death, Garrison. Melted their faces with a goddamn acetylene torch. Did it personally.”
    â€œWe could have put pressure on him. He might have made a deal. He could have had usable intelligence.”
    â€œTrust me.” A quick, wintry grin. “He didn’t.”
    â€œThat wasn’t your call to make.”
    The field agent shrugged stonily. “You don’t actually know what happened to Calderone. All you have is your conjecture.”
    â€œWe could have done an inquest. Conducted an investigation. It was my decision to let sleeping dogs…die.”
    Another shrug. “I made my decision. You made yours. What’s there to talk about?”
    â€œWhat I’m saying is that there’s a pattern. I’ve let you off the hook several times. We all have. We’ve let things slide because you’ve got gifts we value. Like your buddy Jared always said, you’re the Hound. But now I’m thinking that we’ve made a mistake letting you out of the kennel. What happened in Rome might have felt right to you, but it was wrong. Very wrong.”
    Belknap just stared at the seamed face of his superior officer. In the harsh light of the halogen desk lamp, Garrison’s cheeks looked quilted. “Start making