The Bancroft Strategy by Robert Ludlum Page B

legitimate businessmen were desperate for a quick cash infusion. So were a small but significant number of organizations devoted to organized mayhem and destruction. Jared Rinehart—Pollux—had devised a strategy to get into the buy-side of the equation.
    â€œEspionage ain’t bean bag,” Drucker mused softly.
    Oakeshott nodded. “Like I said, Pollux is as smart as they come. Just hope he didn’t outsmart himself this time.”
    â€œHe was getting close, making good progress,” Garrison said. “Want to get in tight with the banking community? Start making loans and they’ll come around soon enough, just to take a look at you. Pollux knew that one of the guys at the meet was a banker, with fingers in a lot of pies. A rival, not a supplicant.”
    â€œSounds pretty elaborate, and pretty expensive,” Oakeshott said.
    Garrison scowled. “You don’t get into the Ansari network by filling out an application.”
    â€œThe penny drops,” said Oakeshott. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. The same night that Ansari’s supposed to be in his citadel of evil, finalizing a three-hundred-million-dollar chain deal for midsized armaments—the same night that he’s dotting t’s, authorizing digital signatures, and stowing a shitload of cash in one of his numbered accounts—we’ve got Jared Rinehart, a.k.a. Ross McKibbin, sitting down with a roomful of greedy shopkeepers in Beirut. Then he’s snatched by a band of towel-heads with Kalashnikovs and attitude. Same night. Anybody think that’s just an accident?”
    â€œWe don’t know what went down,” Drucker said, gripping the back of his chair as if to keep his balance. “My gut says that he played the part of the rich American businessman too well for his own good. The guys who bundled him off probably figured he was worth a lot as a hostage.”
    â€œAs a U.S. intelligence agent?” Oakeshott sat up very straight.
    â€œAs a rich American businessman,” Drucker persisted. “That’s what I’m saying. Kidnapping is pretty common in Beirut, even now. These militant bands need cash. They’re not getting it from the Sovs anymore. The Saudi royals have pulled back. The Syrians are turning into skinflints. My guess is that they took him for the guy he claimed to be.”
    Oakeshott nodded slowly. “Puts you all in a pretty pickle. Especially with what’s happening on the Hill.”
    â€œChrist,” Drucker muttered. “And tomorrow I’ve got another meeting with that goddamn Senate oversight committee.”
    â€œThey know about the op?” Garrison asked.
    â€œIn general terms, yeah. Given the size of the budget item, there was no way around it. They’re probably going to have questions. I sure as shit don’t have any answers.”
    â€œWhat kind of a budget item are we looking at?” Oakeshott asked.
    A bead of sweat on Drucker’s forehead pulsed along with the vein beneath it, glinting in the sun. “Half a year means major sunk costs. Not to mention the manpower involved. We’ve got considerable exposure here.”
    â€œPollux’s chances are going to be better the sooner we do something,” Gomes said earnestly, breaking in. “In my opinion.”
    â€œListen to me, kid,” Garrison said with a baleful stare. “Opinions are like assholes. Everybody’s got one.”
    â€œThe Kirk Commission finds out what’s gone down,” Drucker put in quietly, “I’m going to have two. And I don’t mean opinions.”
    Despite the shafts of midday sun, the room had come to seem shadowed, gloomy.
    â€œI don’t mean to be out of line, but I’m confused,” Gomes said. “They took one of our guys. A key player, too. I mean, Jesus, we’re talking about Jared Rinehart. What are we going to do?”
    For a long moment nobody spoke as Drucker