Дэвид Балдаччи - King and Maxwell

“So why would the blame fall to you then?”

“You obviously don’t understand how government, and the DoD in particular, works.”

“I was in the military.”

“But never in the military bureaucracy . It has its own rules, and many of them don’t make sense. But one you can count on is that when the civilian leadership screws up a matter connected to the military, folks in uniform are going to be left holding a big part of the blame.”

“But you’re not technically in uniform.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got the office and the title and the ball weighs about one ton and is heading right for me. Worst case I’m squashed. Best case I’m severely wounded.”

“So what outcome do you really see?”

“I’ll spend my remaining days testifying in front of Congress. If I’m lucky I’m not indicted. If I’m not lucky we might be talking prison.”

“Jesus, Dan, I had no idea.”

Grant of course had every idea, but, still, he felt badly for the man. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Marshall patted his arm. “Look, we all have troubles. Now, you’ve got a great family and you’ve made my little girl very happy. You just keep doing what you’re doing. Things will shake out one way or another.”

I plan to keep on doing what I’m doing , thought Grant.

They had lunch and neither of the men made any mention of Marshall’s dilemma in front of Leslie and the kids.

After the meal was over Marshall said his goodbyes. Grant gave him a handshake and a hug.

“I’m sorry, Dan,” he said. And he actually meant it. But when it came to avenging his father’s death, there was no one Grant was not willing to sacrifice. And that included himself.

He walked out into the backyard, sat in a lawn chair, and stared at the sky. He watched a plane begin its final descent into Dulles Airport.

He, too, felt as though he were in his final descent. The radio station was coming along. His itinerary seemed to be rock-solid and very promising. The satellite he had leased was perfectly situated to do what needed doing. And the fragments left on there would be very helpful in getting him to the necessary outcome.

And that necessary outcome was that someone had to pay for a wrongful act committed twenty-five years ago. That injustice had cost his father his life. His father was the only one who had really paid a price. Now it was time for others to do so. It had become the most compelling force of Grant’s life. It was not a goal of his. It was an obsession. And obsessions tended to blind one to all other things. Grant was aware of this, but he also found he could do nothing about it. That’s what an obsession was, after all.

Thus, he had chosen to risk his father-in-law’s career and perhaps his life to attain this goal. He would even sacrifice his family’s happiness if it came down to it. Because Grant could not be happy unless the wrong was righted. And he knew of only one way to do it. Nothing could get in the way of that. And if something did it would have to be removed, with force if necessary.

Just like he had done with Jean Shepherd and Milo Pratt. Just like he would have to do with Sam Wingo, and perhaps his son. And Sean King and Michelle Maxwell. He was pretty certain they would have to die before this was all over.

He drew his gaze from the plane overhead as it disappeared down past the trees. In a few seconds its wheels would hit the tarmac and the reverse thrusters and brakes would be applied. Another safe landing, just as happened millions of times a year.

His own landing would probably not be so smooth. But Grant had a chance, a real chance to make it all work, achieve his goal of justice, and then slip back into a normal life. That would be the ideal. With the burden gone he could live again.

Others were not to be so fortunate. More people were going to die before this was all over. And Grant knew exactly who most of them were. It would be a historical event in the eyes of the world.

But for him, it would just be avenging the memory of the man he held most dear.

“YES, SIR, THANK YOU, SIR.”

Sean clicked off the phone and looked up at Michelle.

Keeping on the move, they were in another motel room they had paid for in cash.

Sean had just gotten off the phone with President John Cole.

She said, “Are we good to go with POTUS?”

“I think so. At least with him behind us we can go pretty much anywhere and ask pretty much anything.”

“I noticed you handled the question of Tyler Wingo very smoothly.”

“I’m not looking to derail McKinney’s or Littlefield’s careers. They might prove useful. The president is expecting us to deliver Tyler at some point. We just have to executive-lag that.”

“So where do we go first?”

“Pentagon. We’re meeting with the head of procurement who was involved in the cash-in-Afghanistan program, and Colonel Leon South, who was Sam Wingo’s immediate superior in the field.”

“Let’s roll then.”

An hour later they were being escorted down a long corridor at the Pentagon. In fact, every corridor at the Pentagon was long. It was a labyrinth beyond all labyrinths. Indeed, it was rumored that employees from the 1960s were somewhere in the bowels of the place still looking for an exit.

They reached an outer office and then were escorted into an adjacent conference room. Two men were waiting for them. One was in uniform, the other was not.

Dan Marshall rose and held out his hand. “Mr. King, Ms. Maxwell, welcome to the Pentagon. I’m Dan Marshall, assistant secretary of acquisitions, logistics, and technology. I’m the one who spends a lot of the taxpayers’ dollars around here.”

They shook hands.

Colonel South did not rise to greet them. He merely nodded and said, “Colonel Leon South. I understand you’re here with the president’s blessing.”

Sean, Michelle, and Marshall sat at the table.

Sean said, “That’s right.”

South said, “I’m not sure how private investigators figure into a classified mission, I’m really not. Can you explain that to me?”

Marshall said, “Leon, surely with the president’s authorization we don’t need to get into that.”

Sean said, “I can understand the query. We stumbled into the case mostly by accident. By a series of fortuitous events we ended up becoming close with one of the main players in this little saga. The president deemed that valuable, and that’s why we’re in the loop.”

South nodded slowly but his features remained inscrutable. “So what do you want from us?”

Sean said, “Some background on the mission? Some insight into Sam Wingo?”

“Wingo is a traitor,” began South.

Marshall held up his hand. “We don’t know that, Leon. We don’t know a lot of things, actually.”

“A billion euros gone missing, along with Wingo? I think we know all we need to know.”

“But he contacted you,” said Marshall. “And protested his innocence in the strongest possible terms.”

“Of course he did, to throw us off,” retorted South.

“When did he contact you?” asked Sean.

“Shortly after the mission cratered.”

“What did he say happened?” asked Michelle.

“That there were strange men at the rendezvous spot. They said they were CIA and had the creds to prove it.”

“Have you spoken with Langley about this?” asked Sean.

South looked at him contemptuously. “No, I just took him at his word.”

Sean said, “Okay, what did Langley say when you contacted them?”

“That they had no idea what the hell he was talking about. They had no agents anywhere near this mission.”

“How many times did Wingo contact you?” asked Sean, changing gears.