Haggai Harmon - The Chameleon Conspiracy

“He threw everything back at the Chameleon and, in fact, filled in all the missing blanks.”

“Didn’t he suspect that you were pulling an interrogation trick on him? After all, he’s a sly fox.”

“We thought of that. But when we gave him details of where the Chameleon was hiding, he was convinced that we got him,” said Casey.

“Does he know the truth now?” I was curious.

“Yes. Under the same plea we reached earlier, he confessed to sending a hit man to kill the Chameleon. He will be locked up forever.”

“Was terminating the Chameleon McHanna’s idea or Iran’s order?”

“McHanna says Iran told him. Obviously we can’t ask Tehran for comment. That leaves us with McHanna to face murder charges. As a lawyer, you know it makes no difference if he had him killed under orders from Tehran or on his own initiative. It’s still murder,” concluded Casey.

“It’s all over but for the shouting,” Hodson said. “Iran’s most dangerous spy ring operating in the U.S. has been eliminated.”

“Are you sure?” I insisted. I had the clear impression that Bauer, Hodson, and maybe even Holliday were looking to wind it down. But I still had unanswered questions.

“I am.”

“Well, I’m not. If I were you I wouldn’t ring the gong. I think we should continue digging. There were about eighteen members of Atashbon, and we’ve accounted for only eleven.”

“We have accounted for all of them,” Hodson said, beginning to lose his patience. He looked at Holliday and Casey, who shrugged their shoulders.

“That’s Dan Gordon,” said Bob Holliday. “You have to take him the way he is.”

Hodson smiled. “You may not know this, but Dan and I have worked together before. I’ve had enough ‘Dan hours’ to teach me that he’s relentless and cannot be stopped.”

Holliday said in an amused tone, “My predecessor, David Stone, called him a pit bull who never lets go.”

“I’m blushing,” I said. “Stop.” But in my heart I hoped they wouldn’t. Admissions of imperfection? Not right now, and not from yours truly.

“I have to admit I was wrong,” I said suddenly in a futile effort to improve off my image.

“That’s a first,” said Casey. “Enlighten us.”

“I labeled him a chameleon because he caught his prey with his tongue and changed his skin each time he changed location. But apparently in nature, chameleons don’t change their color to blend in with their environment. In fact, they mostly change their color when faced with imminent danger, or when their mood changes.”

So the lid was finally put on the Chameleon and his comrades, although belatedly, I thought as I walked out the door. The forces of karma might have a good sense of justice, maybe even a sense of humor, but certainly a bad sense of timing.