Brian Haig - The Capitol Game

“Who is she?”

“She was a mild nuisance, yesterday. Today she’s poison.” He felt an almost irresistible urge to call Wiley and warn him he’d better stand fast, or else. Unfortunately that would give away that CG was having him watched and tailed.

“Want us to check her out?”

“Yes, but don’t get caught. Don’t even come close to getting caught, understand?”

“She’s a federal agent. I definitely understand.”

At nine the next morning, Mia entered Nicky’s office, quietly closed the door, and delicately eased herself into the lone chair, a worn, crumbling antique that looked old enough to predate the Pentagon. Nicky was on the phone, chewing out some hapless agent for blowing a promising lead in an important investigation. He cursed a few times, unusual for him.

Mia cradled a folder on her lap and waited. “I’m busy, what do ya got?” Nicky barked the moment he hung up. It was only Wednesday. He looked worn out and exhausted already. Two dozen fresh cases were piled up in his in-box. His mood was foul.

“We have to talk, Nicky.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“Remember when you asked me about the Capitol Group?”

“Yeah, and you jerked me off.”

Mia squirmed in her seat a moment. She certainly had, though she wasn’t about to confess it. “Here’s the deal. Just between us. I want your word that you’ll keep this confidential.”

“No, you don’t have my word.”

“Nicky, this is big.”

“I don’t horse-trade with my own agents. If you got something, tell me.”

Mia got up and shoved the folder in his face. Nicky splayed it open. He read it slowly. “Jesus, where’d you get this?”

“A source.”

“An inside source, obviously.”

“Good guess. And I’m not going to disclose the name. Not for now, not even to you, Nicky.”

“For godsakes, you’re a federal agent, not a reporter. There’s no damned First Amendment in this office.”

There was a long pause as they glared at each other across the desk. Nicky used his fiercest glower to try to back her down. A waste of time. Mia had her jaw set, her arms crossed.

This was the one big problem with a brilliant agent with a Harvard Law degree, he quickly concluded with no small amount of annoyance. She had a world of good options outside the service. She could tell him to screw himself and mean it. It was amazing that she took this thankless job in the first place; any day, she could catch a dose of sanity and shove off for greener pastures.

“I suppose you have a good reason,” he said with a weak nod.

“The best. I gave my word. And it’s the only way my source will continue to cooperate. A lot’s at stake here, twenty billion excellent reasons to keep my source talking. I’m not saying it’s going to happen, but people get killed or seriously hurt over a lot less. For now, the less who know my source’s identity, the better. That includes you.”

Nicky didn’t agree, but neither did he raise an objection. What would be the point? “This for real?” he asked, holding up the folder, pinching it between his fingers as if it were a ticking bomb.

“Quite real.”

“You know what it means?”

“I think I do. CG’s polymer wasn’t adequately tested. It means we have to call an immediate, drastic halt to the entire coating operation. Then a major fraud investigation against one of the most powerful and influential companies in Washington. Have I missed anything important?”

“How about a major scandal that will rock the capital?”

“Okay, we’ll add that to the list.”

Inside the folder Nicky was holding like a contaminated vial of germs were the summary pages of a report prepared by a company called Summit Testing-the final results of a privately financed study, contracted and paid for by a company called Arvan Chemicals.

The report claimed that after four months, the polymer’s miraculous protective qualities somehow broke down, eventually dissipating to nothing.

One day the polymer could defeat nearly any bomb on the planet; the next it could barely stand up to a mild breeze.

“When did they start the coating operation over there?” Nicky asked. He was catching on quickly.

“About three and a half months ago. They’re shamefully behind schedule. But many hundreds of vehicles are now coated and vulnerable. The soldiers call them poly-plus roadies.”

“You know what it means to try to stop this?”

“Think what it means not to, Nicky.”

“Why don’t you help me think about that?”

“Thousands of soldiers are now rolling around Iraqi streets, thinking they’re impervious to the worst the jihadis can throw at them. They’re taking risks they would never contemplate otherwise. One morning they wake up and get a very nasty surprise.”

Nicky waved the report in the air. “How do I know this is reliable?”

“Yesterday I had a chat with the president of Summit Testing. The company’s credible. Its reputation within the industry is impeccable. They were hired, almost two years ago, by Perry Arvan to conduct a field test in Iraq. A private defense contractor agreed to serve as the guinea pig. Dozens of its vehicles were coated and sent into the most violent streets in Baghdad. For four months, no problems, everything worked great. Then one day the polymer broke down completely.”

“How?” Nicky asked. “Why?”

“They have a hunch. They aren’t entirely sure it’s right, though.”

“Let’s hear the hunch.”

“The reactive explosives in the polymer are nitrogen-based. It’s a rare occurrence, but they suspect ultraviolet rays from the sun break down the reactive qualities. Starts out gradually, then accelerates quickly. Physicists could explain it better than me, but apparently it’s known to happen.”

It was suddenly clear to Nicky how volatile the summary in his hand was about to become. Senior people in the Defense Department had pressed hard for a quick, noncompetitive contract for CG. Nicky had heard rumors about shortcuts and favors. All big defense contracts generated plenty of nasty gossip, often spawned by jealous competitors, but in the strain of running a building that spends five hundred billion dollars a year, they were usually ignored as long as they weren’t too serious or perceptibly credible. This one just became all too credible.

Nicky swiped a hand through the gray stubble on his scalp. “So you’re asking me to take this upstairs based on a guess? To stop the biggest, most publicized defense breakthrough of the decade because of a hunch?”

“It’s no hunch that the polymer breaks down, Nicky. Let’s not argue, okay? You’ve got the report. It’s a stone-cold fact. The only uncertainty is what causes it.”

Nicky collapsed back against his desk. He pretended to read the file again and think about it. He wasn’t squeamish, nor was he cowered by CG’s reputation and power. In twenty years in this racket, he’d seen it all. He’d been involved in taking down some of the biggest giants in industry, been cursed at and threatened, once had bricks thrown through his car window. No, he wasn’t worried about the fallout.

What bothered him was Mia.

He’d been getting pestering calls for days, asking what she was up to. As large and fragmented as the Pentagon was, it had a small-town culture with gossips and nosy busybodies on every hallway. She was hassling CG, and vacuuming up contracts and background material from the procurement people. She was doing this all on her own. The question was, why? He considered three or four reasons and liked none of them.

But it really didn’t matter. He had no choice. None at all. Nicky finally said with clear reluctance, “All right, I’ll bring this upstairs to the director. But I’m not happy, Mia. I don’t like being the caboose.”