Smooth Operator (Teddy Fay) by Stuart Woods, Parnell Hall Page A

for the rounds we issue. I can’t imagine how an assassin would have gotten his hands on one.”
    Lance didn’t say anything.
    “Sir?”
    “Who knows this?”
    “Only me. I just noticed myself.”
    “Okay. Sit on it and I’ll get back to you.”
    The others were looking at Lance expectantly. He made a show of slamming down the phone, and snorted impatiently. “Everyone thinks their business is so fucking important. All right. Anyone got anything new?”
    No one did.
    “Get out of here and get me something. Frankly, we got caught with our pants down.”
    As soon as they were gone Lance snatched up the phone. “Margaret?”
    “Sir?”
    “Did you tell anyone about this?”
    “No, sir.”
    “As long as you don’t, you can keep your job. Call the guy back, give him the same message. Tell him not to put it in his report.”
    Lance hung up the phone, leaned back in his chair, rubbed his forehead. A dull, persistent ache seemed to be settling in. One he hadn’t felt in a while.
    The situation had unpleasant connotations for Lance. He could think of only one other instance of a congressman killed by a sniper with a CIA background.
    Could Teddy Fay be alive?
    Lance logged onto the CIA mainframe, plugged in the name Teddy Fay.
    Nothing came up.
    Lance wasn’t concerned. For years any mention of TeddyFay had been classified information that would not show up on such a lowly level.
    Lance entered his personal security codes, instituted years ago and changed every week primarily for the purpose of keeping Teddy Fay out.
    Nothing.
    Lance pushed himself back from the computer, breathing hard. The assassination of a congressman in his town, on his watch, was bad enough. But the thought that his nemesis might have come out of hibernation and begun another reign of terror was almost more than he could bear.
    Lance pulled himself together and picked up the phone.

19
    I n her office in the West Wing of the White House, Holly Barker, newly appointed assistant to the president for national security affairs, and former CIA station chief, answered the phone. “Yes?”
    “Holly, Lance. Ready for the briefing?”
    “I’m ready to be briefed. I’ve got nothing to contribute.”
    “No one does. It’s way too early. Unfortunately, that’s not the type of remark the head of the CIA can make with impunity. CIA directors are supposed to know everything the instant it happens.”
    “It’s a tough job anytime, Lance. I’m sure it’s tougher now.”
    “Yeah. Listen. Something came up. For your eyes only, not to be bandied around.”
    “I’m not a gossip, Lance,” Holly said tartly.
    “I never said you were.”
    “What’s up?”
    “You know we found a shell casing on the roof of the building across the street?”
    “That much I know.”
    “It’s CIA issue.”
    “Oh?”
    “Like the type we’d issue for a company sniper rifle.”
    “Are we admitting to issuing sniper rifles now?”
    “Don’t piss me off, Holly. You and I both know someone who spent twenty years issuing exactly that type of equipment to company agents.”
    “What are you trying to say?”
    “Is it possible Teddy Fay’s back?”
    “Don’t get paranoid on me, Lance.”
    “What is Teddy Fay’s official status?”
    “Teddy Fay doesn’t exist.”
    “That’s what bothers me. I just looked him up on the mainframe and came up empty. No history, no records.”
    “That’s because he was pardoned. His record was wiped clean.”
    “Not from
us
! No one deletes
our
records.”
    “Clearly they do.”
    “I don’t like it. This assassination has Teddy’s MO all over it.”
    “Teddy has a new identity and a new life. A second chance. Do you really think he’d risk that just to screw with you?”
    “I don’t have all the facts.”
    “That’s why you’re grasping at straws. You’re desperate for something to tell the President. Trust me, it’s not Teddy Fay.”
    “How can you be sure?”
    “It’s impossible, Lance.”
    Holly hung up the