Shadowfires

entitled to every comfort regardless of
the circumstances-like a crown prince. In fact, Peake realized that
was probably exactly how Sharp looked at it.
    Now they were in the San Bernardino Mountains, on State Route 330,
a few miles from Running Springs, forced by the twisting road to
travel at safer speeds. Sharp was silent, brooding, as he had been
ever since they had turned off I-10 at the Redland exit. His anger
had subsided. He was calculating now, scheming. Peake could almost
hear the clicking, whirring, ticking, and humming of the
Machiavellian mechanism that was Anson Sharp's mind.
    Finally, as alternating bursts of sunlight and forest shadows
slapped the windshield and filled the car with flickering ghostly
movement, Sharp said, “Peake, you may be wondering why only the two
of us have come here, why I haven't alerted the police or brought more backup of my own.”
    “Yes, sir. I was wondering,” Peake said.
    Sharp studied him for a while. “Jerry, are you ambitious?”
    Watch your ass, Jerry! Peake thought as soon as Sharp
called him by his first name, for Sharp was not a man who would ever
be chummy with a subordinate.
    He said, “Well, sir, I want to do well, be a good agent, if that's what you mean.”
    “I mean more than that. Do you hope for promotion, greater
authority, the chance to be in charge of investigations?”
    Peake suspected that Sharp would be suspicious of a junior agent
with too much ambition, so he did not mention his dream of becoming a
Defense Security Agency legend. Instead, he said disingenuously,
“Well,
I've always sort of dreamed of one day working my way up to assistant chief of the California office, where I could have some input on operations. But I've
got a lot to learn first.”
    “That's all?” Sharp asked. “You strike me as a bright, capable young man. I'd
expect you to've set your sights on something higher.”
    “Well, sir, thank you, but there are quite a few bright, capable
guys in the agency about my age, and if I could make assistant chief
of the district office with that competition, I'd be happy.”
    Sharp was silent for a minute, but Peake knew the conversation was
not over. They had to slow to make a sharp rightward curve, and
around the bend a raccoon was crossing the road, so Peake eased down
on the brake and slowed even further, letting the animal scurry out
of the way. At last the deputy director said, “Jerry,
I've been watching you closely, and I like what I see. You have what it takes to go far in the company. If you've
a desire to go to Washington, I'm convinced you'd be an asset in
various posts at headquarters.”
    Jerry Peake was suddenly scared.
Sharp's flattery was excessive, and his implied patronage too generous. The deputy director wanted something from Peake, and in return he wanted Peake to buy something from him, something with a high price tag, maybe a lot higher than Peake was willing to pay. But if he refused to accept the deal Sharp was leading to, he'd
make a lifelong enemy of the deputy director.
    Sharp said, “This is not public knowledge, Jerry, and I'd ask you to keep it to yourself, but within two years the director is going to retire and recommend that I take his place at the head of the agency.”
    Peake believed that Sharp was sincere, but he also had the queer
feeling that Jarrod McClain, director of the DSA, would be surprised
to hear about his own pending retirement.
    Sharp continued: “When that happens,
I'll be getting rid of many of the men Jarrod has installed in high positions. I don't
mean to be disrespectful of the director, but
he's too much of the old school, and the men he's promoted are less
company agents than bureaucrats. I'll be bringing in younger and more aggressive men-like you.”
    “Sir, I don't know what to say,” Peake told him, which was as true as it was evasive.
    As intently as Peake watched the road ahead, Sharp watched Peake.
“But the men
I'll have around me must be totally reliable, totally committed to my vision for the agency. They must be willing to take any risks, make any sacrifices, give whatever is required to further the cause of the agency and, of course, the welfare of the country. At times, rarely but predictably, they'll
be in situations where they must bend the law a little or even break
it altogether for the good of country and agency. When
you're up against the scum we've got to deal with-terrorists, Soviet
agents-you
can't always play strictly within