Andrew Peterson - First to Kill

“I wouldn’t have figured you for a musical sort of guy. What’s your favorite?”

“ The Music Man . I’ve seen it half-a-dozen times at the Starlight Theater in Balboa Park. It’s an outdoor amphitheater that’s directly under the flight path of Lindbergh Field. When the actors hear an oncoming jet, all the action stops. Everyone freezes in place, even the orchestra, as the jet roars overhead on its approach. After the jet’s gone, everyone resumes as though nothing happened. It’s the damnedest thing you’ve ever seen, but they make it work.”

“I have to confess, I’ve never seen a musical.”

“You’re missing out. It’s a traditional form of entertainment. People dancing and singing on a stage. No special effects, just good old-fashioned live acting. If I hadn’t joined the Marine Corps, who knows?”

“I just can’t picture it. You, on Broadway?”

“I appreciate the discipline involved. If you think about it, covert operations officers have to do a lot of acting.”

“I guess you’re right, I’ve just never thought about it like that.”

“I like ballets and symphonies too, although some operas can be a little heavy.”

“Well, aren’t you cultured. What about sports?”

“Ice hockey.”

“Me too. I’ve been to a couple Sharks games. It’s a rough sport. If I’m not mistaken, it’s the only sport that actually allows fighting, with a penalty, of course.”

“Yep. Five for fighting.”

“I wish I had more time for stuff like that.”

“Fighting? Nah, it’s overrated.”

She smiled.

“You need to make time, Holly. You know what they say about too much work.”

“Do you think I’m dull?”

“Not at all. What I’m saying is something you already know, but need to hear. You need downtime, time to reboot. Especially with a high-stress job like yours. It can’t be easy running a field office along with all the resident agencies as well. You must have… what, five hundred people working under you?”

“I manage.”

“But at what cost? Sooner or later you’ll reach burnout.”

“I haven’t yet.”

“It sneaks up on you. One day you’ll just break down into tears over something small. It’s your brain telling you you’re on overload.”

“You speaking from personal experience?”

“Absolutely. Take my advice and do something for yourself, something totally selfish. Go to Cancun or Bermuda. The Bahamas. Lay out at the pool. Give that lily-white skin of yours a tan. The FBI will do just fine without you for a spell.”

“Henning told me the same thing, except for the lily-white-skin part.”

“I hate to agree with the guy, but he’s right.”

“I guess I do have pretty fair skin.”

He half laughed. “I was talking about the stress. Why don’t we try dinner after the dust settles?”

“I’d like that.”

Holly followed the caravan onto I-5 north and then onto the Highway 70 exit a few miles later. For the next thirty miles the landscape was totally flat. Farmland receded into the darkness on either side of the highway. Marysville was deserted except for a few convenience gas stations. They followed Highway 70 as it jogged through town before again heading north toward Oroville. To the west, the black outline of the Buttes contrasted the distant glow from the San Francisco Bay Area.

Holly kept the conversation lighthearted and told him about her family, how she came from a long lineage of law enforcement. Her father was a retired City of Sacramento detective and her two brothers were both cops, one in Dallas, one in Modesto. She talked about her years at Boston College, her childhood, and of their family pet, a toy poodle named Pierre who used to sleep under the covers with her.

Either she hadn’t made the connection with his last name or she was being respectful of his privacy, but she hadn’t asked about his father. Given her assertive and frank nature, it was likely she didn’t know or she would’ve mentioned it. Everyone in the FBI knew of the Committee on Domestic Terrorism, especially SACs. The FBI was directly involved in the security of the nation, and domestic terrorism was high on its list of responsibilities. He knew sooner or later the subject would come up, so why not just get it out in the open and be done with it. Besides, she’d told him about her family. It seemed rude not to reciprocate.

“My father is Senator Matthew McBride.”

She looked over at him, then back to the road. “You’re joking, right?”

He said nothing.

“Stone McBride, chairman of the CDT?”

“I thought maybe you knew and were just being discreet.”

“I hadn’t made the connection with your name. It wasn’t in your file. Is that why you’re involved?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Probably. He and Ortega go way back. They served in the same unit in Korea. Harv’s close friends with Ortega’s son, Greg. That’s the personal favor he mentioned at the airport.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t change anything. I’m glad you’re aboard with us, but it does add a bit of depth.”

“We aren’t too close.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He didn’t approve of my career choice. His commanding officer was killed by a sniper. Deep down, he knows I’m no different than any other soldier. The man was a battalion commander. He called in artillery and tank support. He gave orders that cost lives on both sides. Hell, he had snipers under his command.”

“Then what’s the real problem between you? In a single word.”

“A single word?”

“It cuts to the chase, eliminates the BS.”

Nathan thought about it for a few seconds, and one word came to mind. “Okay, a single word. Absence.”

“Okay…”

“Your turn. In a single word, why aren’t you close to anyone?”

“That’s brutal.”

“It’s your game.”

She was silent for several miles and Nathan started to think she wasn’t going to answer. He thought her word would be commitment or dedication , something along those lines. She was married to the FBI and she couldn’t-or more accurately, wouldn’t-take time to form a meaningful relationship. Her answer surprised him.

“Fear,” she said, staring straight ahead. “Maybe you’ll change your mind about dinner.”

“Look at the bright side. Think of all the money we just saved,” he said.

“Seeing expensive shrinks?”

He nodded.

“I think my word was a little more honest than yours. Want to try again?” she asked.

“Not really, but I believe in playing fair.” When she didn’t say anything, he took a deep breath and jumped off the precipice. “Okay… My word is resentment .”

“Well, now we’re getting somewhere. What’s your best childhood memory of him?”

Nathan didn’t hesitate with an answer, because it was one of the few good memories he had, and he could probably count them on one hand. “We were fishing. I don’t remember where, some lake up near Yosemite. I reeled in a big one, or what seemed like a big one, you know, to a kid. He was so proud of me. I remember his smile.” He turned toward the window, grateful for the dark interior. “You’re way out of my league, Holly. After ten minutes, you’ve hit the bull’s-eye with me. Am I really that transparent?”

“Not at all. Just truthful.”

“This isn’t easy to talk about.”

“I appreciate you’re confiding in me. To be honest, I expected you to be all business.”

“I thought the same thing about you. I thought all you’d want to talk about was the Bridgestones.”

“I do want to talk about them, but it’s a three-hour drive up to the cabin. I’ve never met anyone like you.”