When Janson peered out from the secretary-general’s antique telescope, he found Jessie precisely where he had stationed her: across the East River, her rifle positioned on the roof of the old bottling plant, directly beneath the mammoth neon letters. She was starting to disassemble the weapon with deft, practiced movements. Then she looked up at him, as if she could feel his gaze upon her. All at once, Janson had a feeling, an odd, lighter-than-air feeling, that everything would be all right.

He stepped away from the scope and looked out with his own two eyes, his face cooled by the breeze. Hunter’s Point. The name had become mordantly appropriate.

Looming above his beloved, the enormous Pepsi-Cola sign glowed red in the deepening gloom. Now Janson squinted, saw the reflected light from the neon spilled onto the glistening waters below. For a moment, it looked like a river of blood.

Chapter Forty-three

Chapter Forty-three

“I want to thank you for joining us, Mr. Janson,” said President Charles W. Berquist Jr., seated at the head of the oval table. The handful of people at the table, mainly senior administrators and analysts from the country’s principal intelligence agencies, had made their separate ways to the blandly handsome building on Sixteenth Street, using the side entrance that was accessible from a private driveway and guaranteed that arrivals and departures would not attract notice. There would be no tape, no log. It was another meeting that had not, officially, taken place. “Your nation owes you a debt of gratitude that it will never know about. But I know. I don’t think it’ll be any surprise that you’ll be receiving another Distinguished Intelligence Star.”

Janson shrugged. “Maybe I should get into the scrap-metal business.”

“But I also wanted you to hear some good news, and from me. Thanks to you, it looks like we’re going to be able to resurrect the Mobius Program. Doug and the others have walked me through it several times, and it’s looking better and better.”

“Is that right?” Janson said impassively.

“You don’t seem surprised,” President Berquist said, sounding straitened. “I suppose you anticipated the possibility.”

“When you’ve been around the planners as long as I have, you stop being surprised by their combination of brilliance and stupidity.”

The president scowled, displeased with the operative’s tone. “You’re talking about some very extraordinary people, I’ll have you know.”

“Yes. Extraordinarily arrogant.” Janson shook his head slowly. “Anyway, you can just forget about it.”

“The question is, where do you get off talking to the president like that?” Douglas Albright, the DIA deputy director, interjected.

“The question is whether you people ever learn anything,” Janson shot back.

“We’ve learned a great deal,” Albright said. “We won’t make the same mistakes twice.”

“True—the mistakes will be different ones.”