Stephen Hunter - Point Of Impact

“No,” said Nick, desperate in his urgency to explain the obvious to these idiots, “no, you see – ”

“Nick, the evidence is simply overwhelming. His rifle, identifiable fragments of his bullet, his prints, his empty shell. He was there, he had motive, he had opportunity, he had – ”

“That’s the frame-up. They framed him. The cassette. Dobbler had a cassette of atrocities. I had Annex B! I – ”

“Nick, this Dobbler’s disappeared. We’ve had a nationwide alert out for him, and we haven’t come up with anything. He probably wandered off in the deep woods and died. Nick, we can’t even prove he was in the woods with you. There’s simply no proof. Only bizarre conspiracy theories.”

“No,” said Nick, “listen, just listen. It was a frame-up and Bob burned the Annex and the tape because he didn’t want the press twisting them. He’s a goddamned hero. He took out guys who killed kids in this country’s name and now he’s hanging himself rather than – ”

“Nick, let’s get back to reality, okay?” said the prosecutor, Kelso. “We’ve got a real deal for you. It’s more than I would have offered, but your boss here and Mr. Meachum insisted. Now you listen to it. It’s very generous, very forgiving. It’s a wonderful deal.”

“Nick, Bob is gone. Bob will never see the outside world again. He knows it and his lawyer knows it. There’s nothing you can do except save yourself,” counseled Howard.

“I can’t – ”

“Earth to Nick,” said Kelso. “Bob Lee Swagger is history. He’s finished. Only a moron couldn’t get a conviction off this overwhelming body of evidence. I’ve got a forty-six-page report from the FBI ballistics lab. I’ve got his threatening letter to the president; I’ve got the late Leon Timmons’s sworn testimony that he shot Bob Lee Swagger in the attic of a house on St. Ann’s street in New Orleans after discovering him in the act of firing the shot; and I’ve got you to testify that Bob leapt out of that building, overwhelmed you, stole your gun and your car. I’ve got him. He’s gone.”

“I – ”

“Nick, damn it, listen to me,” said Howard. “It can go two ways. One way you win; one way you lose. Those are the only possibilities. In either event, Bob is lost. Are you listening?”

Nick finally nodded.

“Number one. You are called to the stand as a cooperating witness. You are, after all, the hero of the hour. You are, after all, the FBI agent who penetrated the Bob Lee Swagger conspiracy and went underground with him – ”

“I – ”

“Shut up and listen, Nick,” said Howard. “ – who went underground with him on his trek through America, under the deception that he had been killed, which we established as a fiction after the shoot-out at the Baptist church in Blue Eye. You gained his confidence and you shared his danger, as you made certain there was no larger conspiracy. It’s one of the most brilliant undercover operations the Bureau has ever brought off, by the way, Nick. It’s your triumph – and it’s mine. Credit where credit is due. The spoils go to the victor. Then, when you were certain, you called us in, and we apprehended him. As a consequence, we closed down Raymond Shreck’s narcotics smuggling ring and eliminated close to fifty Latin gunmen, veterans of the infamous ‘Panther Battalion Massacre.’ It was quite an operation, Nick. It’ll make stars out of all of us.”

Nick just looked at him.

The “stars” line, and Howard’s transparent greed hung in the air for just a second. Then the old man, Hugh Meachum, leaned forward.

“Excuse me, Howard. I wonder if I might say one thing to Nick?”

“Of course, Hugh,” said Howard.

“Now Nick,” said Hugh. “I know how complicated all this has been for you but I’m afraid there’s yet another level of complexity that I have to put before you. I know you’ll be able to handle it.”

He smiled in a grandfatherly way that made Nick almost want to punch his old teeth out.

“Nick, I know you think you’ve seen Annex B. I know what you’re thinking: that I’m involved somehow. Perhaps you think I’m the architect of all this, that I orchestrated this whole thing, the destruction of Cuembo, the murder of the archbishop, the frame-up of Bob. Nick, it’s so dangerous where you are. You’re in the famous Wildnerness of Mirrors that is counterintelligence. I’ve seen that document. A Cuban double agent tried to peddle it to the New York Times a couple of months ago. A translated version actually saw print in a Syrian newspaper. The Japanese news agency Torakata paid thirty-five thousand dollars for a copy, then never printed it. Nick, it’s a plant. Cuban military intelligence, very crafty, very clever. That’s why it’s so dangerous when young men like you wander into these regions. This poor Lanzman who tried to reach you: he may actually have believed it or he may simply have thought that you’d believe it. Nick, it’s mischief.”

Nick looked at him.

“Mister, you’re full of – ”

“Nick, if it helps, go ahead and hate me. It doesn’t matter if you hate me. It’s allowed. But Nick, let me tell you something that isn’t allowed. You actually have an opportunity to save lives. Thousands of lives. To really make a difference in the world. It’s not allowed to stay on the sidelines and watch it happen.

“Now, you know that a Salvadoran Army unit called Panther Battalion was involved in a terrible atrocity on the Sampul River. Several hundred innocent villagers, many of them women and children, were killed. I shouldn’t tell you this, but it appears there was some American involvement in the episode. Yes, your Colonel Shreck, working for General de Rujijo. Annex B had just enough truth in it to seem convincing. But the American government had nothing to do with it. And that’s why this is a precious secret, Nick. It’s precious because it’s dangerous. If the usual enemies – the press, certain members of Congress, others on the mischievous left, sympathizers, fellow travelers, the like – Nick, if they should get ahold of that information and publicize it, they could sabotage for another five years any chances at peace in that country. Nick, think of the children who’ll die if that happens. Nick, we have a peace now. We can’t risk it.” Nick swallowed, hating the confusion in his head.

“Now the second possibility is distinctly less pleasant than the first,” said Howard. “You are subpoenaed as a hostile witness, a disgraced federal officer, now on suspension awaiting termination. You are asked very strict, limited questions about your participation in the events of March 1, 1992, in New Orleans: where you were, what you saw, how you messed up. Then you are dismissed. If Bob’s lawyer tries to cross-examine you, we’ll object to every single thing that doesn’t refer to March first and we’ll be sustained. The minute after you are done testifying, you are indicted on three counts of impersonating a federal officer. Mr. Kelso himself will prosecute, and we will bring witnesses who will absolutely nail you, Nick. You’ll do at least seven years hard time. And you won’t have done Bob a damned bit of good. You will have just thrown your life away for nothing.”

Howard sat back.

Nick then said, “Is that all?”

“No, of course it’s not all,” said Kelso. “The same day you are indicted for impersonating a federal officer, Sally Ellion is indicted for espionage – delivering classified government files to a private citizen.”

“Howard, goddammit – ”

“Shut up, Nick,” said Howard.

“Nick,” said Kelso, “I’ll prosecute that one, too. It happens to be a much more serious charge than the charge against you. You’ll be out in seven years, five with good behavior. She won’t be out for twenty.”