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“Who the hell are you?” he demands, words slightly slurred.
“Noa Himel,” she says. “Directorate of Operations.” She moves her chair around so it’s facing the desk, waves the pistol. “Have a seat.”
“You … you bitch, who the hell do you think you are?” He drops his briefcase on the floor. “I’m making a call right now to DDO Jordan to get your ass fired.”
She lets him vent. He goes to his desk, picks up a phone, looks puzzled, drops the receiver into the cradle. Goes to his right coat pocket, takes out a mobile phone. Thick fingers work on the screen.
Nothing happens.
Something approaching comprehension appears on Mooreland’s face. He sits down heavily in his swivel chair.
Noa says, “Some work associates of mine are outside, ensuring we have a nice, adult, calm conversation without any disturbances.”
He says, “Why the pistol?”
“Due to your sketchy record, Joshua. I can call you Joshua. Correct? Or would you prefer Mr. Mooreland? I understand you asked female subordinates to call youMr. Moorelandwhen you asked them to parade in your office to give you a little fashion show, whenever you desired it.”
He says, “That was consensual. Nothing was ever proven.”
“The way you treated local embassy staff in Bogota and Mexico City, was that consensual?”
He turns away for the briefest of moments. “There was evidence that they were in the employ of the Russians. That I was … entrapped.”
“Entrapped,” Noa repeats. “How convenient for you. Well, that’s why I came in here the way I did. I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of being entrapped. I’m sure you understand.”
He stares at her and she stares back.
First one to talk loses,she thinks.
He says, “What’s this all about … whatever your name is.”
“Noa Himel,” she says. “I’ve been detached to serve in a special unit to clear out the deadwood at the Agency. After a special review, it’s been determined that you’re number one on the list. You’ve had a dull and fairly unimpressive career, bouncing from station to station, division to division, from Athens to Buenos Aires. You barely made the minimum work effort, were always late in submitting reports, and you exaggerated the capabilities of agents you recruited for your division.”
Mooreland says, “Whatever’s in my record only reflects what my supervisors put down on paper. There are other accomplishments that have not been officially recorded. You know how it is.”
“Like the six times you came into work so drunk you had to return home? Or the two times you entered an alcoholic rehabilitation program, promising to halt your drinking, only to have you leave said programs weeks ahead of schedule?”
“Those programs were interfering with my work,” he protests. “I had to return to Langley.”
Noa says, “I don’t know how—perhaps you and your supervisors attended the same schools or belonged to the same fraternity—you failed upward, being transferred and shuffled off to some other poor station chief. Joshua, I’m here to tell you that it ends tonight. Now.”
Mooreland says, “Who the hell are you to make such a threat? Damn you, when he was director, Keegan Barrett tried to get rid of me and here I am, still here.”
For an older man, Mooreland then moves quickly, hand reaching under the desk, and Noa realizes he’s reaching for a weapon.
CHAPTER 26
THE EXPRESSION ON Mooreland’s face quickly goes from triumph to despair, as his empty hand slowly comes back from underneath the desk.
Noa says, “Joshua, you were probably hoping to grab that .357 Colt Python revolver you keep in a holster attached to the underside of your center desk drawer. You think I was going to meet with a sexual predator like you, even armed, and leave a weapon within reach?” Noa shakes her head. “Nice try.”
He seems to regain some composure. “I’m not going anywhere. And once I get my phone service back, I’m contacting the Office of the Inspector General, to make a formal whistleblower complaint. Once that happens, young lady, I’m golden. And I can’t be touched.”
Noa says, “Joshua, not only are you a lousy analyst, a pig around women, and an overall drag on whichever division you’ve been assigned to, there’s been at least two instances where you were investigated for unauthorized contacts with foreign agents.”
Like a metronome, he automatically replies, “I was investigated in both cases. I passed the polygraph testing. I was cleared.”
Noa says, “Just like Aldrich Ames, damn the man, who alsopassed polygraphs. Joshua, as a smart man, I’m sure you know that Scotland has a different kind of judicial system than their brethren to the south. Instead of having ‘guilty’ and ‘not guilty’ decisions, they have a third. ‘Not proven.’ That’s when the jury feels there’s not enough evidence to convict, but there’s enough evidence to think you probably did it. I’ve read the reports on your investigations, Joshua. If we were headquartered in Aberdeen instead of Langley, that would have been the Agency’s conclusion.”