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“And he did. Of course he would deny it.”
“At the time you said you were having dinner with him, during which you said he made inappropriate advances, you were actually otherwise occupied, weren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For the sake of argument, if you weren’t having dinner with Major Miller when you said you were that would be dishonest, wouldn’t you say? A lie?”
“You’re going to take the word of an incompetent Army officer who never should have been given an assignment like that in the first place over mine? Well, let’s see what the appeals board has to say about that!”
She got out of the armchair and started for the door.
“Before you start the appeals process, Mrs. Wilson, I think you’d better take a look at something I have.”
Patricia Wilson stopped and turned.
“What is it?”
Mrs. Leonard walked behind the DCI’s desk, opened a drawer, and came out with a manila folder. She took an eight
-by-ten-inch photograph from the folder and held it out to Patricia Wilson.
“You ever see this man before?” Mary Leonard asked.
“Yes, I have,” she said.
“And who is he?”
“He’s a German journalist. His name is Grossinger, Gossinger, something like that. He works for a small newspaper in Germany. Or so he said. I ordered Major Miller to check him out.”
“Was that before or after you went to bed with him? With this man?”
“What did you say?”
“I said, did you tell Major Miller to check him out before or after you went to bed with this man?”
“I don’t believe this,” Patricia Wilson said. “I just don’t believe it. This man actually said I went to bed with him? And you believe him?”
Mary Leonard nodded. “Yes, he did. And I believe him. So does the DCI.”
“Why—not admitting it for a minute, of course—would he say something like that?”
“Well, he probably decided that taking foreign journalists to bed after the most brief of associations was dangerous behavior for a regional director of the CIA—a married woman—and that the agency ought to know about it.”
Patricia Wilson glowered at Mary Leonard.
“Your friend is not a German journalist, Mrs. Wilson,” Mary Leonard said. “He’s an American, an intelligence officer working directly under the president to find flaws in the intel community. And he found one.”
She locked eyes with her and let that sink in.
“I think this conversation is over, Mrs. Wilson, don’t you?” Mary Leonard asked.
Patricia Wilson stalked angrily out of the DCI’s office.
XVII
[ONE]
Aboard Learjet 45X N5075L 23.01 degrees North Latitude 88.01 degrees West Longitude Over the Gulf of Mexico 0930 10 June 2005
