CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
12:13 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
The West Wing
The White House, Washington DC
“He’s going to see Dr. Gottlieb,” Malcolm said.
Gerry the Shark sat back at his desk, cupping his head with his hands as if he were lying in a hammock. Weak afternoon sunlight streamed in his windows. The light was okay—it didn’t bother him. This time of year, the brightest sunlight was never particularly strong.
He stared at Malcolm, who stood in the doorway. It was bad news, and Malcolm’s face said he knew it as well as Gerry did. It gave Gerry a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach—a sensation he was not accustomed to, and one he didn’t enjoy.
“The old man said this?”
Malcolm nodded. “Kent Philby. A notorious triple, or possibly quadruple, agent from many years ago. Recruited ou
