The Invisible. Andrew Britton. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Andrew Britton
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Шпионские детективы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780786021710
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sought anything more, and while Patterson was devoted to his wife of twenty-three years, he occasionally wondered about what might have been. At forty-eight years of age, Brynn Fitzgerald was still a very attractive woman. Although time had left its mark around her eyes and mouth, her stylishly cut reddish brown hair had yet to show a trace of gray, and her sea green eyes were just as bright and intelligent as they’d been when she was twenty-two and cramming for the Massachusetts bar exam.

      Still, while she’d retained her sturdy good looks, Patterson could tell that her premature rise to the top was taking its toll. It was all a matter of timing, he knew; given another few years, she probably would have been offered the job regardless. Brynn Fitzgerald was one of the most accomplished women in government service. She had served on the boards of numerous Fortune 500 companies, and she’d earned honorary doctorates from no less than seven schools, including Harvard, Yale, and the University of Notre Dame. She was also a prolific author, having written or collaborated on five books since 2001. There was a lot about the woman to admire, Patterson thought, which probably explained why he hadn’t pursued her with greater effort. On some level, he found her very intimidating, and he knew he wasn’t alone in that respect.

      “Well,” he finally responded, “it seems to me that the president’s main objection lies with dictating foreign policy to Israel. He really doesn’t want to do that, or even give the appearance of doing it. If we could block the deal by offering some kind of economic aid package to India, or by increasing aid to Israel directly, he’d be able to defuse the situation without losing face.”

      “Maybe,” Fitzgerald said, without enthusiasm, “but unless we can stall delivery of the aid package until the end of the year, it still reeks of compromise. It doesn’t matter where it goes—Israel or India—the reason behind it will be extremely transparent.”

      “Stopping this escalation is worth the political fallout,” Patterson countered. “After all, the stakes are huge. India and Pakistan have a combined troop strength of more than two million, and both countries have access to enormous troop reserves in the event of a large-scale conflict. Those are facts that we can’t afford to overlook.”

      “Not to mention the nukes,” Fitzgerald muttered. She had recently been briefed on both countries’ nuclear capabilities, and she knew how dire the situation actually was. According to the CIA’s latest estimates, Pakistan had somewhere between twenty-eight and forty-two weapons prepped for delivery, while India had between forty and fifty. Even if those numbers were off by 10 percent or more, the devastation that would result in the event of a nuclear exchange would be unthinkable.

      “Exactly,” Patterson agreed. “This isn’t exactly a new scenario, you know. In 1999 a similar situation cropped up, and both countries went as far as to state that all military options were on the table.” The ambassador paused to let that carefully worded statement hit home. “Brynn, you really need to sell some kind of interjection to the president. The deal has been on the table for months now, and the Israelis are ready to move. Once the money changes hands, we won’t be able to control what Musharraf does next. I mean, we won’t have any influence at all.”

      “I’ll talk to him. You should know he’s really adamant on this, Lee, but I’ll do my best.”

      “Good. And thank you.” Patterson felt some of the tension in his shoulders start to dissipate. As the U.S. ambassador to Pakistan, he faced strong opposition—sometimes outright antagonism—on a daily basis, and the events of the past few months had only made matters worse. He’d met the president on several occasions. Patterson knew him to be a stubborn individual, but the acting secretary of state was just as strong willed. If anyone could convince David Brenneman to change his mind, it was Brynn Fitzgerald.

      “What about our missing tourists?” Patterson asked. He had been present only for part of the bilateral discussions. “What did they have to say about that?”

      “ISI is putting in the resources, but as you know, ten of those people disappeared in mountainous areas during periods of bad weather, so there isn’t much chance they’ll be coming back.” The Directorate for Inter-Services Intelligence was easily the most powerful of Pakistan’s three major intelligence agencies. For this reason, it was heading up the search for the missing Americans. “There’s no dispute that some of them were actually kidnapped, but there’s also a good chance that some simply got trapped in a snowstorm. Or fell into a crevasse. Take your pick. Most of them applied for climbing permits to begin with, which is something we should really have taken into account from the start.”

      The ambassador nodded slowly, but he couldn’t disguise his unease.

      “What are you thinking?” Fitzgerald asked.

      Patterson took his time in framing his response. “Brynn, I’ve been here for nearly four years now, and I’ve seen just how deep the anti-American sentiment runs in the general population. I’ve done my best to change that, but I have to tell you, I’ve learned to expect the worst. So when I hear the Paks have concocted a story that covers all the bases, I can’t help but take it with a grain of salt.”

      Fitzgerald permitted herself a brief smile, then caught herself and glanced away to lessen the blow. “I hear you, but it’s like you just said. You’ve been facing off with these people every day for the past four years, so you might not be the most—”

      “I have nothing against the Pakistani people or their government,” Patterson interjected testily. “And I resent any suggestion to the contrary. I’ve—”

      “Lee, I’m sorry.” Fitzgerald lightly gripped his arm and saw his expression soften immediately. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you’re biased against them. I know you better than that. I’m just saying that you might not be the most impartial observer. I mean, let’s face it. You’ve been on the firing line for years now. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.”

      “It hasn’t been easy, but you don’t have to placate me.” He leveled her with a steady gaze. “We’ve known each other too long for that. Just listen to what I’m telling you, okay? You have to have eyes in the back of your head around here. If they have the evidence, that’s one thing, but you can’t take anything at face value.” He hesitated briefly. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds here, but you’re new to the job, Brynn, and sometimes it shows. It’s a whole different game when your name is on the letterhead.”

      It wasn’t the best analogy, but she knew what he was getting at. There weren’t many people who could speak to her so candidly, but Lee Patterson happened to be one of them. “I appreciate the advice, Lee, and believe me, I depend on you more than you know. I realize this is a challenging assignment, but I’m glad you’re the one standing post. I mean that.”

      “Thank you.” He grinned and shot a glance at his watch. “You know, it’s a shame you couldn’t stay for one more day. It would have been good to catch up some more, and there are plenty of people at the embassy who didn’t get the chance to meet you. It would have made for a nice little photo op.”

      “I know, but I’m scheduled to meet with the president in the morning, and there’s no way he’ll let me push it back.”

      “It was a good trip, though?” Patterson knew that Fitzgerald had visited numerous South Asian countries on her first official trip, including Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, and India.

      “It was…enlightening. As you just said, things are very different when you are given top billing. Everything seems a little more scripted, but I guess that’s just diplomacy at work. It was a productive couple of weeks, though, and that’s the main thing.”

      Patterson grinned again. “So, in other words, you’re looking forward to going home.”

      “Not as much as you might think,” Fitzgerald muttered. She looked out the window absently. The green-brown Margalla Hills could be seen in the distance, but she wasn’t focused on the passing scenery. Instead, she was thinking about her upcoming meeting with the president, as well as his probable reaction after the disastrous press conference she’d just departed. “In fact, I think I’d prefer to stay