“You shouldn’t listen to rumors,” Carter said. “How far has it traveled?”

“Beyond Langley,” replied Cantwell, which was another way of saying it had reached some of the brother agencies that had been steadily encroaching on CIA turf ever since the dreaded reorganization of the American intelligence community.

“How far beyond?”

“Far enough so that some people in town are starting to get nervous. You know how the game is played, Adrian. There’s a pipeline between Riyadh and Washington, and it flows green with cash. This town is awash with Saudi money. It pours into the think tanks and the law firms. Hell, the lobbyists dine out on the stuff. The Saudis have even managed to devise a system for bribing us while we’re still in office. Everyone knows that if they look out for the al-Saud while they’re working for Club Fed, the al-Saud will look out for them when they return to the private sector. Maybe it will be in the form of a lucrative consulting contract or some legal work. Maybe a chair at some insipid institute that spouts the Saudi party line. And so when rumors start flying around town that some cowboy at Langley is going after one of the most generous benefactors of this unholy system, people get nervous.”

“Are you one of them, Shepard?”

“Me?” Cantwell shook his head. “I’m heading back to Boston the minute my parole comes through. But there are other people in the building planning to hang around town and cash in.”

“And what if the generous benefactors of this unholy system are also filling the coffers of the people who fly airplanes into our buildings? What if these friends of ours are up to their necks in terror? What if they’re willing to make any deal with the devil necessary to ensure their survival, even if it leads to dead Americans?”

“You shake their hands and smile,” said Cantwell. “And you think of the terrorism as an inconvenient surcharge on your next tank of gas. You still driving that old Volvo of yours?”

Cantwell knew exactly what Carter drove. Their assigned spaces were next to each other in the west parking lot. “I can’t afford a new car,” Carter said. “Not with three kids in college.”

“Maybe you should sign up for the Saudi retirement plan. I see a lucrative consulting contract in your future.”

“Not my style, Shep.”

“So what about those rumors? Any truth to them?”

“None at all.”

“Glad to hear it,” Cantwell said. “I’ll be sure to set everyone straight. Night, Adrian.”

“Night, Shep.”