Russell Andrews - Midas

He could see other prisoners in their mesh pens. Justin looked for the man who’d come to see him in his cell, but was unable to pick him out of the crowd.

Two guards came and escorted him-half carried him because his legs were not working all that well-to a tin building that was set up as an office. It struck him as plush and rather luxurious. Justin was told to sit on a folding chair, which he did. The guards stood watching him for several minutes, but he knew that even if they left him alone, he didn’t have the energy to snoop or pry. He sat still until Starched Fatigues strode in and dismissed the guards. In daylight, in these surroundings, the man looked slightly older than Justin had believed him to be. And a bit smaller. Justin studied his face as the man sat behind a desk. The hair was visibly graying on the sides. His eyes had developed lines around them. His face, which was doing its best to look boyish, was beginning to reveal its age, as well as the pressures and traumas that lived inside it.

“You’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing,” he said, looking past Justin rather than at him.

Justin didn’t say anything. There was nothing he thought needed saying.

“You’ll be flown home today. I’ll be your military escort.”

Justin still didn’t respond. A slight tilt of the head was all.

“There is a very strong feeling that you were not acting in the best interests of your country, Mr. Westwood. You were moving into a very dangerous and suspicious territory. But we accept the fact that you were doing what you believed to be your job and didn’t understand the direction your investigation was taking you.”

Justin’s head tilted the other way now.

“I’m sure you’ll also want to know,” Starched Fatigues said, “that the terrorists responsible for the various attacks on our country have been eliminated. The immediate threat is over. We accept the fact that you were not in any way tied to this group.”

Justin couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “They were caught?”

“They were found. They resisted and were killed in a gun battle.”

“Who are they? Who were they?”

“It was a terrorist cell. Five of them were Iraq-connected. They hooked up with three suspected members of Al Qaeda who we’d been tracking for months. That’s how we found them.”

“How many were there?”

“Eight.”

“And they were all killed?”

“That’s correct.” Starched Fatigues shifted uncomfortably for a moment. “We’ll allow you to ask some questions if they relate to your investigation. We believe you deserve that much after the ordeal you’ve been put through.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Justin asked.

“ I’ll allow you.”

“May I ask where the eight men were found?”

“They’d been moving around the country. We stopped them in Delaware.”

“Was anyone from our side killed in the gun battle?”

“Is there a reason for that question? Or an implication behind it?”

“I’m a cop. I like to know all sides of an equation.”

“Well, you’re not going to be allowed to know the different sides of this equation. Stick to your investigation. Or no more questions.”

Justin tried to focus. He knew he wouldn’t get a lot of leeway. “What was Hutchinson Cooke’s involvement?”

“Before I go into this, understand that this entire conversation is confidential. We will share information with you because we feel you’re entitled to it. But it cannot be shared outside this room.”

“If it is?”

“You’ve got some political clout behind you, Mr. Westwood.”

“That’s news to me.”

“Maybe. But you do. It’s one of the reasons you’re being released. That and the fact that many of the loose ends surrounding the bombings have been tied up. But if you ever talk about anything that you learn here or that happened to you here, you would be violating the security of the United States and a return visit could very well be justified.”

“That’s a good argument for confidentiality,” Justin said quietly.

Starched Fatigues gave what Justin thought was the closest he could come to a quick smile. “Captain Hutchinson Cooke was a traitor.”

“Can I get any elaboration?”

“We’ve interviewed many people who knew him at Andrews Air Force Base, including his commanding officer. Cooke apparently had become wildly political. Been studying the Koran. He’d spent many years flying to the Middle East. He made a lot of friends there and obviously was easily influenced. He’d become convinced that the government here was his enemy.”

Justin had enough energy to squint dubiously and say, “He wasn’t Arab.”

“Neither was the young man in northern California who went to Afghanistan and joined the Taliban. Just tragically misguided.”

“Cooke was working for a company called Midas.”

“That’s right. A Saudi-formed company, based in Iraq. They had an American branch, trying to do business here.”

“What kind of business?”

“Oil.”

“And were they doing business here?”

“Not really. They’d made contacts. It’s easy to make contacts in that business when you’re from the Middle East. But it seemed to basically be a shell. A terrorist front.”

“And. .?”

“And it’s been closed down. The people responsible for it have been arrested. They’re being dealt with.”

“How did Cooke pull off the doubleheader? How’d he work for Midas the same time he was supposed to be flying for the Air Force?”

“He was AWOL. It’s what led us to him in the first place. We’d been looking for him ever since his commanding officer made it official.”

Justin thought his head might burst. They had answers for everything. It was all getting tied up in a neat and seamless package. “Who killed Cooke?” he asked.

“We believe the crash could have been an accident. Although it’s possible it was suicide. Cooke flew Bashar Shabaan, the man who blew himself up at Harper’s, into the area. It’s possible he felt remorse when he realized the consequences of his support. Or fear because he realized he’d be caught.”

“And his wife?”

“Also involved with the cell. Our people believe she became unhinged after the Harper’s incident. When Cooke died, she blamed America and our government. She was clearly deranged or she couldn’t have done what she did.”

Justin spoke very slowly and carefully. “You’re saying she was involved in the McDonald’s bombing?”

“Yes.”

“She blew up her own children?”

“These are very sick, evil people we’re dealing with.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “They sure are.”

“We’re not going to be revealing to the public what I just told you. It wouldn’t do us any good to announce that a U.S. military man had switched sides, and ultimately it’s not really relevant to the story.”

“But you’re telling me.”

“As I said, your investigation of Captain Cooke is what led you here. We believe you deserve to know the truth.”

“What about Martin Heffernan?”

“Heffernan did us a favor. He happened to be on the spot, saw Cooke’s ID, and called Cooke’s commanding officer. Zanesworth had been alerted that Cooke was under investigation and he immediately contacted us.”

“‘Us’ meaning. .”

“Meaning those of us directly involved in the war on terrorism.”

“So you guys told Heffernan to wipe the plane clean, take any ID. . ”

“We made the connection immediately. As I said, we’d been suspicious of Cooke and his wife for some time. We made an immediate decision to keep their involvement quiet. You can question that decision, it was not made easily, but it’s the one that was made and it’s one we’re not deviating from.”