Дэвид Балдаччи - The Sixth Man

“You’re welcome.” His gaze went toward the window. “You’ve got a first-rate security detail. They’ve set their perimeter with a lot of thought. Your alarm system is top-notch, your door locks the best.”

She smiled. “Do you know what the best security is?”

He looked at her expectantly.

She rose, went to an antique secretary against one wall, and pushed against a piece of wood facing, and a small door was revealed. She reached in and pulled out a Glock 9mm.

She held it up for him to see. “The best security is yourself. I wasn’t always sitting behind a desk. One of these often came in handy.”

Harkes said nothing. She put the gun back and sat down.

“Things are going well,” she said.

“Things usually go well until they stop going well.”

She lowered her glass. “You have doubts? Issues? You know something I don’t?”

He shook his head again. “None of the above. I’m just a cautious man.”

“Nothing wrong with that, but you need balance too. Invoke your wild side from time to time.”

“Four people dead, five if you count Sohan Sharma. That’s wild enough for me.”

She said coolly, “Not losing your nerve, are you?”

“Considering I didn’t kill any of them, no. But one was an FBI agent. That is particularly troubling.”

“There is always collateral damage in situations like this, Harkes. It’s unavoidable. You fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. You know that all too well.”

“That was war.”

“ This is war, too. You need to understand that right now. Perhaps an even bigger war. This is for the heart and soul of American intelligence.”

“And you want to run it?”

“I should be the one running it. The agency’s name is Homeland Security, after all.”

“The CIA–,” began Harkes.

“Langley is a joke. The Pentagon listens to no one. The intelligence czar has no power, and don’t even get me started on NSA. It’s all very pathetic.”

“But the E-Program had merit.”

“Stop drinking the Kool-Aid. That was Peter Bunting’s world. He owned the space.”

“And you didn’t.”

“Now you’re getting with the program. Bunting’s an idealistic fool. Can you imagine putting the whole of this country’s security on the back of one analyst?”

“But that’s not really the case, is it? There are still plenty of analysts out there doing what they do. The American intelligence agencies continue to hum along. And Bunting’s company does a lot more than the E-Program. They have their fingers in lots of intelligence pies. But Bunting’s person was tasked with seeing the big picture, connecting the dots. That’s always been lacking across the intelligence spectrum.”

She shook her head. “That is a very dangerous philosophy to have.”

“What, quality over quantity?”

“We give them our hard-earned work and they get the credit for it. How is that fair?”

“I didn’t think fairness was an issue when we’re talking about the nation’s security.”

“I don’t want to discuss this with you anymore,” she said sharply.

“All right. I was just playing devil’s advocate. It’s part of my job.”

“You can be devilish, can’t you, Harkes? You have that reputation.”

“I do what needs to be done.”

“Bunting’s wife attempted suicide. Did you know that?”

“I heard.”

“Bunting must be frantic. I can’t stand the man professionally, but I have to admit, he does care for his family.” Her tone was gleeful.

“And it also helps you,” he said.

“Exactly. It takes him off his game. He’s not thinking about Edgar Roy. Or anything else. He knows we’ve set him up to take the blame. But he can’t do anything about it. All the people who matter have been dealt with.”

“It was a good plan.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “You know, you can relax a bit. You look like you’re about to attack someone.”

Harkes let his rock-hard body ease just a fraction.

“You’ve done excellent work, Harkes. I’ve been impressed by you from day one. I plan on using you a lot in the future.”

She crossed her legs and let her dress slip back liberally on her bare thighs as she sat back farther against the cushions.

“I appreciate that, Secretary Foster.”

“We’re off the clock, Harkes. You can call me Ellen.”

Harkes said nothing to this.

“You’ve had an interesting life, James,” she said. “That was one reason I selected you.”

“I chose the path less traveled,” Harkes said simply.

“Combat hero, field agent with a list of successes. You can shoot straight and go toe-to-toe intellectually with a Cabinet member,” she added. “As I can certainly attest.”

Harkes said nothing.

She smiled demurely. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Should I be?”

“I guess that all depends on how you want the evening to play out.”

“Do you think that wise, ma’am?”

“I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.”

“Sorry.”

“The staff is off until tomorrow. Security detail is outside and will stay there unless I tell them otherwise. I’m a big girl. You’re a big boy.”

She stretched out one bare foot and touched his leg. “At least I hope you are.”

Harkes sat in silence.

“Have you ever done it with a Cabinet member?” she asked.

“No. And since most of the Cabinet are male my options are limited.”

“Well, then this is your lucky night.”

Foster rose and went to him. She bent down and kissed him on the lips. “I hope you’re impressed. I don’t do this for just anybody.” She took one more sip of her drink and then put it down. She said casually, “I’m also in the market for a new chief of my personal security detail. I think you may like the fringe benefits offered.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What?” she said, startled.

Harkes rose. “I don’t mix business with anything else. Now if there’s nothing else you need, I’ll be going.”

“Harkes!”

“You have a good night, Madame Secretary.”

Harkes walked out the front door.

BUNTING AND PAUL FOLLOWED Sean and Michelle back to Machias. On the way Sean filled Michelle in on all that had been discussed at the restaurant. Hours later they pulled their vehicles up to the darkened cottage in the woods and cut their lights. Sean was first to notice something wrong. The door to the cottage was partially open. It was nearly four in the morning and still dark. Michelle noted the open door, too. She slipped out her gun.

Bunting, who had fallen asleep in the other car, awoke and said groggily, “Are we here?”

“Keep quiet,” warned Paul, who was driving his rental. “Something’s not right.”

When Bunting saw that all three had their weapons out he sat upright, fully awake now. “What is it?” he hissed.

“Stay here,” ordered Michelle, as she came up next to their vehicle. “And keep down.”

Paul said, “I’ll stay with Peter.”

Bunting instantly crouched down in the floorboard while Paul’s gaze swept the house and the surrounding woods.

Michelle entered through the back door and Sean the front, and they met in the middle of the one-story house. Michelle picked up the overturned chair while Sean looked at the smashed glass cabinet that had sat against a wall, and the upside-down table. Megan Riley’s legal documents were scattered across the floor.

But that was all secondary.

“Damn,” said Sean in a low voice.

Eric Dobkin lay sprawled on the floor next to the table. He was dressed in civilian clothes because he was doing them a favor. His last favor.