Phillip Margolin - Lost Lake

How many guards would that leave inside? The overflight that had given the team the aerial surveillance photos had registered heat signatures for six human beings: Carl and five guards. But the overflight had been more than twenty-four hours earlier, and more agents could have arrived.

Just as Cutler was about to command the snipers to kill the guards, the agent on the porch snuffed out his cigarette and walked inside, and the man who was patrolling the perimeter walked out of sight behind the farmhouse. Suddenly, no one was watching the ground between Cutler’s position and the farmhouse. He made a split decision.

“Double-time to the house,” he commanded. If they could cover the ground fast enough, they could use the element of surprise to take out everyone inside.

The men were halfway across the open space when Cutler’s two snipers went down and the assault team was bathed in light. Cutler was temporarily blinded and threw a forearm across his eyes.

“Order your men to throw down their weapons, Mr. Cutler,” a voice, amplified by a bullhorn, boomed out. “You’re surrounded and you have no chance of escape.”

Soldiers were beginning to emerge from the cornfields just as it dawned on Cutler that his wounded men had been shot from the farmhouse.

“We’ve had you under surveillance since you paid Robert Bloom for the location of this safe house. He’s under arrest, by the way. You’ve been set up, Sam, and there’s only one way out for you and your men-cooperation. So throw down your weapons. We’ll take care of your wounded, and you and I can have a talk.”

Cutler knew that he and his men would die if he opted for a shootout, so he told them to lay down their arms. Several medics attended to the wounded snipers. His men were cuffed and led toward the barn, while three soldiers walked Cutler to the farmhouse.

Ted Schoonover was sitting in the parlor in an overstuffed easy chair. A fire was roaring in the grate. Tiffany lamps sat on oak end tables, and an embroidered antimacassar covered the back of a sofa decorated with a floral pattern. On the wall was an oil painting of cows grazing in a field. Cutler would not have blinked if Ma and Pa Kettle had appeared out of a side room. Instead, Carl Rice and Victor Hobson joined the president’s aide.

“Sit down, Sam,” Schoonover said, indicating a hard wooden ladder-back chair. Cutler settled in and his guards stood by, on the alert even though he’d been disarmed and his hands were cuffed behind him.

“Can I have these cuffs off?” Cutler asked.

Schoonover smiled. “Not a chance, Sam. You’re way too dangerous even with them on. Now, let me explain the program. I’m going to make you an offer. Then, whether you accept or not, you’re going to join your men in one of those secret locations where we interrogate terrorists. Don’t ask for a phone call or a lawyer. Your civil rights don’t exist anymore-but all is not lost.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll make this simple, Sam. We want Morris Wingate. I’m sure he explained about the pay records. Coupled with his lies at his daughter’s bail hearing and Carl’s testimony, that gives us a shot at convicting him of something-perjury at a minimum. But I’ll be honest, that might be all we can nail him on-unless we can produce a witness who will corroborate Carl’s testimony.”

“Me,” Cutler said.

Schoonover nodded. “One or more of the men we just captured might also be helpful. We’ll know soon. They’re tough, but we’ll break them eventually if they decide not to cooperate. But you’re the prize, the inside man, Wingate’s chief lieutenant.”

Cutler didn’t say a thing, but everyone could see that he was thinking hard.

“As of now, you’re disappeared, Sam, and the General is not going to help you. He can’t. So, you’re on your own.”

“This is sort of like the mission to rescue the MIAs,” Carl said. “The General wrote off the men in the Unit, and he’ll do the same to you. The moment you were captured you became expendable.”

“Thanks for your concern, Carl,” Cutler said.

“Don’t become confused,” Carl said. “I’d as soon see you dead after what you did to the Unit, but I want to see Wingate destroyed, and you’re the key.”

“So, what do you say?” Schoonover asked.

“I’ll want more than life in a cage, if I’m going to cooperate,” Cutler said.

“We have to know what you can do for us before we can talk about concessions.”

“I can do plenty, believe me,” Cutler said.

Two weeks later, Ami Vergano closed the door of a small, windowless room in the federal building in San Diego and set her briefcase and a package wrapped in brown paper on the floor before taking a seat across the table from Carl Rice and Vanessa Kohler. Carl’s hair was short, his beard had been shaved off, and he was dressed in casual clothes. Vanessa was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt.

“Mission accomplished,” Ami said as she took copies of several documents out of her briefcase and gave them to the couple.

“This first set of papers dismisses all state and federal charges against you, and grants you immunity from prosecution, in exchange for your testimony against Morris Wingate in any state or federal proceeding.”

Vanessa looked at her incredulously. “Are you saying that you got us full immunity?” Vanessa asked. “They have me dead to rights on the jailbreak, and Carl admitted under oath that he killed Eric Glass.”

“Remember during the trial when Brendan went to the DA’s office to bring General Wingate to court to testify?”

“Yeah,” Vanessa said.

“Victor Hobson took me aside and explained what was going on. Brendan was in on everything. His job was to get your father to testify that he hadn’t seen Carl between high school and the rescue attempt at your father’s mansion. But they still needed me to get your father to deny he’d ever heard of the men in the Unit. I told Victor that I wanted immunity before I’d help. I reminded him that you’d both been victims and had taken a terrible chance in testifying in order to bring down your father; furthermore, without the two of you, there’d be no case. He agreed to come through with immunity in exchange for Carl’s complete cooperation in the government’s case against Wingate.”

“I was happy to oblige,” Carl said.

“Did they have second thoughts after Sam Cutler agreed to testify against my father?” Vanessa asked.

“Some,” Ami answered, “but it was too late. Carl and I had already followed through on our part of the bargain.

“Here’s something else I want you to read,” Ami said as she handed the couple more documents.

“This second group of documents is the paperwork that will get you into the federal witness protection program,” she explained.

As Vanessa examined the paperwork, she showed none of the joy or excitement that Ami had expected to see.

“Is there something wrong?” Ami asked.

“Do you remember the last scene in The Graduate ?” Vanessa asked.

“I think so. I saw it on TV a year ago. Dustin Hoffman has just spirited the girl away from her wedding, right?”

“Katharine Ross played the girl,” Vanessa said, “and she and Dustin are sitting on the bus and they’re together, but they have this scared look on their faces when they realize that they have no idea what they’re going to do next. I feel like that. My entire adult life has been dedicated to getting revenge on my father. Now I’ve won, but the life I’ve built for myself during the past twenty years is what I’ve had to sacrifice to get him. I have no idea what I’m going to do from this day forward.”

“Was it worth it?” Ami asked.