«No,» Katherine said aloud. «It cant possibly be real.»
Sometimes a legend was just that a legend.
CHAPTER 16
Security chiefThe goddamn guy walked right out of here!
Anderson had already assigned teams to start scanning exterior video, but by the time they found anything, this guy would be long gone.
Now, as Anderson entered the Rotunda to survey the damage, he saw that the situation had been contained as well as could be expected. All four entrances to the Rotunda were closed with as inconspicuous a method of crowd control as Security had
at its disposal a velvet swag, an apologetic guard, and a sign that read THIS ROOM TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR CLEANING. the dozen or so witnesses were all being herded into a group on the eastern perimeter of the room, where the guards were collecting cell phones and cameras; the last thing anderson needed was for one of these people to send a cell-phone snapshot to cnn.
One of the detained witnesses, a tall, dark-haired man in a tweed sport coat, was trying to break away from the group to speak to the chief. The man was currently in a heated discussion with the guards.
«Ill speak to him in a moment,» Anderson called over to the guards. «For now, please hold everyone in the main lobby until we sort this out.»
Anderson turned his eyes now to the hand, which stood at attention in the middle of the room. For the love of God . In fifteen years on security detail for the Capitol Building, he had seen some strange things. But nothing like this.
Forensics had better get here fast and get this thing out of my building.
Anderson moved closer, seeing that the bloody wrist had been skewered on a spiked wooden base to make the hand stand up. Wood and flesh, he thought. Invisible to metal detectors. The only metal was a large gold ring, which Anderson assumed had either been wanded or casually pulled off the dead finger by the suspect as if it were his own.
anderson crouched down to examine the hand. it looked as if it had belonged to a man of about sixty. the ring bore some kind of ornate seal with a two-headed bird and the number 33. anderson didnt recognize it. what really caught his eye were the tiny tattoos on the tips of the thumb and index finger.
A goddamn freak show.
«Chief?» One of the guards hurried over, holding out a phone. «Personal call for you. Security switchboard just patched it through.»
Anderson looked at him like he was insane. «Im in the middle of something here,» he growled.
The guards face was pale. He covered the mouthpiece and whispered. «Its CIA.»
Anderson did a double take. CIA heard about this already?!
«Its their Office of Security.»
Anderson stiffened. Holy shit. He glanced uneasily at the phone in the guards hand.
In Washingtons vast ocean of intelligence agencies, the CIAs Office of Security was something of a Bermuda Triangle a mysterious and treacherous region from which all who knew of it steered clear whenever possible. With a seemingly self-destructive mandate, the OS had been created by the CIA for one strange purpose to spy on the CIA itself. Like a powerful internal-affairs office, the OS monitored all CIA employees for illicit behavior: misappropriation of funds, selling of secrets, stealing classified technologies, and use of illegal torture tactics, to name a few.
They spy on Americas spies.
With investigative carte blanche in all matters of national security, the OS had a long and potent reach. Anderson could not fathom why they would be interested in this incident at the Capitol, or how they had found out so fast. Then again, the OS was rumored to have eyes everywhere. For all Anderson knew, they had a direct feed of U.S. Capitol security cameras. This incident did not match OS directives in any way, although the timing of the call seemed too coincidental to Anderson to be about anything other than this severed hand.
«Chief?»The guard was holding the phone out to him like a hot potato. «You need to take this call right now. Its. .» He paused and silently mouthed two syllables. «SA-TO.»
Anderson squinted hard at the man. Youve got to be kidding. He felt his palms begin to sweat. Sato is handling this personally?
The overlord of the Office of Security Director Inoue Sato was a legend in the intelligence community. Born inside the fences of a Japanese internment camp in manzanar, california, in the aftermath of pearl harbor, sato was a toughened survivor who had never forgotten the horrors of war, or the perils of insufficient military intelligence. now, having risen to one of the most secretive and potent posts in u.s. intelligence work, sato had proven an uncompromising patriot as well as a terrifying enemy to any who stood in opposition. seldom seen but universally feared, the os director cruised the deep waters of the cia like
a leviathan who surfaced only to devour its prey.
Anderson had met Sato face-to-face only once, and the memory of looking into those cold black eyes was enough to make him count his blessings that he would be having this conversation by telephone.