Дэвид Балдаччи - The Sixth Man

Bunting had glanced at Avery, who was working the information flow in front of a bank of computers. “Status?”

“Normal.”

“You mean normal but heightened.”

“No, there’s no change,” said Avery.

“On my command send the Wall to full power. We have to know if this guy can cut it sooner rather than later. We’re running out of time and options.”

“Got it.”

Bunting had spoken into the headset he wore. The first questions would just be warm-ups, nothing too taxing.

“Edgar, please provide me with the logistical data you just observed from the Pakistani border, beginning with US Special Forces movements and the reactionary tactics taken by the Taliban on the fourteenth of last month.”

Five seconds later over his headset Bunting heard an exact replication of this data.

He turned to Avery. “Status?”

“No bump at all. Smooth and level.”

Bunting had turned back to look through the one-way glass. “Edgar, you just observed the encryption code for the relay link for DOD’s satellite platform over the Indian Ocean. Please provide me with every other number of that code up to the first five hundred digits.”

The numbers came at him almost immediately in rapid succession.

Bunting’s gaze was locked on his tablet where the correct digits were set forth. When the last number had rolled off Roy’s tongue, Bunting drew a deep breath. A perfect match.

“Theta status?” he barked at Avery.

“No change.”

“Full power on the data flow.”

Avery cranked it and the Wall flow accelerated markedly.

Bunting had muttered, “Okay, Edgar, let’s see if you can play in the big leagues.”

He had asked four more questions of Roy, all memorization tests, each quantitatively harder than the last one. Roy had aced all four effortlessly.

“He’s very relaxed,” said Avery, his voice cracking with excitement. “His theta activity actually went down.”

Relaxed, Bunting had thought. The man is relaxed and his theta went down and the Wall is at full throttle.

Bunting tried to keep his growing euphoria in check. Memorization was one thing, analysis was quite another.

“Edgar, you observed ten minutes ago both the military and geopolitical conditions on the ground in Afghanistan’s Anbar province. I want you to contrast that with the political situation in Kabul, factoring in the known current allegiances of the tribal and political heads in both sectors. Then, provide me your best analysis of what strategic steps the American military should take to solidify its holdings in Anbar and then expand that into neighboring regions over the next six months, while at the same time enhancing our control over the capital both militarily and politically.”

Bunting had had four rock-solid scenarios on his tablet screen, the result of a hundred top analysts from four different agencies poring over this same data for weeks, instead of minutes. Any one of these four replies would have been more than acceptable. This was the real test. The man who would occupy this position was not called the Memorizer. He was called the Analyst. You earned your money by taking facts and turning them into something valuable, as an alchemist could purportedly turn iron into gold.

Fifteen seconds passed and then it had come.

However, Edgar Roy had not given one of the four responses he was expecting, indeed, hoping for. What he did provide made Bunting’s jaw drop nearly to the device he was holding. Not one person Bunting had ever talked to at the Pentagon, the State Department, or even the CIA had come up with such a revolutionary strategy. And this man had, after bare seconds of thinking about it.

Bunting had looked at the men gathered around him who had heard this feedback as well. They too were all gaping. Bunting had gazed back at Roy, who just sat there as though he were watching a moderately entertaining movie instead of spearheading the American intelligence juggernaut.

Peter Bunting had not been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. He had grown up as an army brat; the family had moved each time his father’s duties and rank had changed. His old man was career-enlisted, had bled for his country, and he instilled a pride in his son to do the same. Bad eyesight had killed any chance Bunting had to join up, but he’d found another way to serve. Another way to defend his country.

Bunting had been ecstatic on discovering that Edgar Roy was the greatest Analyst he likely would ever find. What had followed was six months of the best intelligence output the United States had ever had.

And now?

He stared at the six-foot-eight zombie sitting across from him.

God help us all.

He turned to Avery. “How is the investigation going on the death of Edgar’s lawyer?”

“Slowly. Special Agent Murdock is in charge.”

“And where does that leave Edgar?”

“Bergin has a young associate, Megan Riley. And of course King and Maxwell.”

“Right – persistent, clever, and tough. They discovered Bergin’s body, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“I had my head handed to me today by that bitch Foster. And I passed Mason Quantrell leaving a meeting with her. I know she timed it so I would run into him.”

“Why do you think that?” asked Avery.

“It’s obvious. She wanted me to know that she’s picked Quantrell as my successor. They’ve been looking for any reason to pull the plug on me and let Quantrell’s Mercury Group leap to the top of the pecking order. And they think they’ve found it.”

“But why would they want to do that? The E-Program has been incredibly successful. Quantrell’s approach was same-old same-old and a disaster.”

“They have short memories in Washington. And in order for the E-Program to do its thing, they all have to share their information with us. Most of them want their little fiefdoms right back where they’ve always been, so they’ve got built-in support from all the alphabet agencies that matter.”

Bunting focused on Roy again. “Edgar, your country needs you. Do you understand that? We can make this all work out okay for you. But we need your cooperation. Do you get that?”

Black dots. Nothing else.

Bunting persisted. “I believe that you can understand me. And I need you to think very carefully how you want this all to turn out, okay? We have a window of opportunity. But that window can’t remain open forever.”

A face of stone looked back at him.

After a few more attempts Bunting sighed, rose, and left. As he and Avery walked down the hall Avery said, “Sir, what if he did kill those people?”

“I’ve got over three hundred million people to protect. And I need Edgar Roy to do it.”

MICHELLE SAT ACROSS from Sean in his bedroom. They’d filled each other in on events.

“Megan’s probably scared to death,” said Michelle.

“She’s got guts. As they were leaving, she told Murdock that she knew her rights and that he couldn’t push her around.”

“Good for her.”

“But then she started to tear up and got the hiccups. I think Murdock might have sensed that as a sign of weakness.”

“Right,” said Michelle in a disappointed tone. “So what now?”

“We struck out with Roy. We can’t really investigate Ted’s murder because Murdock won’t let us near anything.”

“So we investigate something else pertinent to the matter? Like is Edgar Roy guilty or not?”

Sean nodded. “And also why does a guy like him garner so much attention from the Feds? Granted he might be a serial killer, but there, unfortunately, are lots of serial killers. They don’t warrant late-night chopper rides and this kind of full-court press.”